"He definitely wants to sleep with you," he taunts.
"Excuse me?" I look at him weirdly, "What are you even talking about."
"The way he touched your arm. That's what people do when they wanna fuck someone." He looks down at his paper and continues to...
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I walk to my locker to grab my backpack and Elijah follows, of course.
I sniffle as I shut my locker and walk to psychology.
"Are you getting sick?" he asks.
"I said no talking."
"I'm just making sure you're okay." Elijah shrugs.
I rub my temples, hoping it'll help with my headache. "I don't need you to, okay? I got it."
When we arrive, I take my seat closest to the wall and continue to massage my temples.
I zone out as the teacher reviews body language.
I tried going off my meds a few weeks ago. I haven't told anyone yet because I wanted to see how it played out. I thought it was going so well but I feel so off today. I hope that it's just me getting sick.
I'm just so exhausted from having to rely on a pill to be happy. I am so much more than a stupid drug.
I run my hands over my face and then rest my forehead completely on the table.
I stay like that for a few minutes before I hear Mrs. Port speak. "Mr. Rivera."
"Hm?"
"Is Miss Lavender more important than my lesson?"
Confused, I slowly lift my head and turn around to see Elijah staring at me.
"I mean..." he trails off with a tilt of his head, not breaking eye contact.
I hear a couple of scattered giggles from around the classroom. I immediately face forward and sink into my seat.
"Pay attention. That goes for you too Miss Quinn. Head up please," she gestures with her hands.
I sigh and prop my head up on my hand. I take out a notebook and a pencil to scribble some notes but I can't focus.
My leg bounces under the table and I feel overstimulated. I take out my water and sip a huge amount. I can't sit still and I feel nauseous so I decide to ask for the restroom.
I raise my hand and Mrs. Port comes over. "May I use the restroom?"
She nods her head and I immediately stand and make my way out to the restroom.
I quickly check under all the stalls and when I'm sure it's clear, I stand in front of the mirror and stare at myself.
I take a deep breath and look up so any tears forming won't fall.
Crying at school is the worst. Especially since my eyes and nose get red and glossy, completely noticeable.
I give up and cover my face with my hands, resting my elbows on the sink. "Shit," I whisper to myself, barely audible.
