I Know How You Feel

Classes were pretty rough for me. Everybody kept asking for details and I kept saying no. I heard all the grumbling expletives in their head at me. Some even walk away saying bad things about me. Like I couldn’t hear them. People were so cruel.

There were rumors that I poisoned her. Some kid even got it right on the mark in his thoughts.

“Maybe she’s a witch and she used her evil powers to make her brain almost explode but then realized she couldn’t kill her and stopped. Nah, what am I thinking that’s crazy. I’m crazy!”

I let out a breath as the kid walked away. My peers had bigger imaginations than I thought.

I survived up to lunch and then people were swarming me. Our usually empty table was being invaded by people in my grade.

“What happened to Misty?”

“Did you do it?”

“Did they have to zap her?”

“Did her head catch on fire?”

“Did the teacher do it?”

“Were you-”

“Okay, Okay. Everybody is leaving… now,” I heard a familiar voice bellow over the ruthless crowd.

Slowly they all turned around. I couldn’t see much but the different expressions on people’s face. Some scared, some angry, others defiant. But in their thoughts I could see the vice principal. The vice principal Mr. Patt was coming to my rescue. Eventually everybody cleared out and the tall, skinny old man was the only one left. I have to say that the first time I met him, he really creeped me out. After a while… No, he still creeped me out.

“Olivia Knoes?” Mr. Patt asked looking down at me.

“Yes, sir,” I stood up.

“You are needed in the office,” he said. “Follow me.”

“Okay.”

I got up and walked a little. I look over my shoulder to see Sam with a face that mimicked her thoughts.

“What did you do?”

I shrugged my shoulders and had to jog to catch up with Mr. Patt and his abnormally long legs.

Mr. Patt held the door open for me and I walked into the musty office. The walls were covered in off-white paint and the carpets were grey. Everything around felt dull and dim. Even the lighting seemed lower than the rest of the school. No wonder no one came in here of their own free will.

I sat down and waited for Mr. Patt to come back.

When he did, he brought a man in a black suit with a green tie. The man walked straight up to me and held his hand out.

“George Fowler, Nice to meet you,” he said.

“Olivia Knoes, you too… I guess,” I returned. I was confused beyond belief of who this man was. And it seemed like he could tell.

“I’m sorry, I’m from the state,” he explained, “I came to ask you some questions about your school.”

“Oh, okay.”

Mr Patt went back to his office and Mr. Fowler sat in the chair next to mine. He pulled a clipboard from his briefcase and a pen. The pen looked expensive with a symbol on it of a triangle that seemed to go on forever.

“Okay, how old are you?”

“Fourteen.”

“And when’s your birthday?”

“February fourth.”

It went on like this for about ten minutes until he started asking questions about teachers and their curriculum. I answered honestly and fully. I was on a roll until he asked me a question that set me off guard.

“Has anything strange happened at your school? Like something occurred and you couldn’t explain why it happened?”

He said this with complete sincerity and even his thoughts sounded serious. His thoughts weren’t really thoughts to begin with. They just repeated what I said like he wasn’t trying to focus on anything. His eyes seemed to bore into my soul as he waited for me to answer. I nearly told him about Misty; I felt like he already knew. Instead, I laughed, yes I laughed, at Mr. Fowler from the state.

“Mr. Fowler, our school isn’t exactly that eventful,” I answered, “It’s considered strange when we have a pep rally more than once a month.”

“Ah, okay,” he smiled and stopped writing. “You are free to leave now.”

“Oh, okay.” I turned around and walked out the door.

“Does that interview count?” I thought.

I chuckled to myself and walked back to the Choir room. Of all the random and weird things that have been going on in my life, that meeting still confused me.

“Ah, Olivia, there you are!” Mr. Harson greeted me as I came in. “Now we can sing Somebody to Love.”

He asked for no explanation or a note. He just pointed to the microphone. I went up there and sang; I decided that this was truly my favorite class.

That afternoon Romeo invited me over. From then on I was going over there every day. We played video games and went bike-riding but somehow by the end of the day we always ended up in the music room and Romeo would play his song. I always had to stop myself from singing along to the lyrics in his head.

“E quel bellissimo sorriso,

Con quelle mani cosi delicati,”

“Any lyrics yet?” I asked again.

“No, il mio cuore, not yet,” he answered. That was his nickname for me. Il mio cuore. Of course I had no idea what that meant at the time, so I really was kind of blissfully ignorant. I knew he liked me from his color but I thought it was just a teenage boy thing. I just thought he thought I was cute and boy, was I wrong.

In the meantime, I was trying to figure out what happened to Misty. My mom said even the hospital wouldn’t give any further information besides that she was doing better and had moved back home. Nobody knew what was going on with her. Her parents wouldn’t even let her minions come and visit her.

It was starting to worry me but I had other things to think about. After the dance we were going to D.C. and even though Mr. Harson said I was really kicking butt on the solo, I couldn’t help but be nervous. It’s terrible when I get too nervous. It feels like my windpipe closes up because I can barely sing anything. Luckily, that only happened one time and that was back before I joined Choir.

On Friday Sam was really excited. I was trying to avoid the fact that Misty still wasn’t at school. Sam managed to get away from Nurse Gerd with a walkie-talkie. She was learning how to patrol the school and look for injuries. I was learning how to take candid shots.

“So my mom is going to take me out to get my nails and hair done. And I’m getting new makeup and jewelry for my dress. You should come with us,” she mumbled as I clicked the camera.

“No, I’m not much for getting pampered and my mom makes jewelry so I can borrow some of hers,” I replied knocking on the door to the art room. I held my breath, knowing I’d who idea see behind that door. Luckily, Sam didn’t seem to realize this just yet.

The kindergarteners were over and the people signed up to be art teachers were working hard to show them how to use a paint brush. It would be hard to get them to not smile at the camera. I, on the other hand, had no trouble grimacing as Tyler’s thoughts trickled into my mind. I tried my best to block them out.

“Aw, but you will let me do your makeup, right? I have red lipstick with you name on it,” she bribed using her manipulating smile. I rolled my eyes and gave in.

“Fine torture me, but don’t make me look like a zombie,” I teased.

“Gosh, one little favor and nobody will live it down,” she muttered to herself. The art teacher came to the door and opened it.

We walked and I quickly snapped a few pictures before a few of the kids turned their heads. Thank God for shutter speed. I gently reminded the kids to not look at the camera and took a few more pictures, avoiding making eye contact with Tyler as I did. It wasn’t two seconds later when he decided to stare down to camera. I instantly turned around and bumped into Sam.

“Sorry!” she backed up and walked out the door, her frown showing she finally saw Tyler.

I could feel the nervous energy coming off of her skin. It ran through me like adrenaline. The little pessimist in the back of my mind reminded me of the dream. Then I spent the next few minutes convincing myself it was just a dream. A stupid dream. I paced, walking to the opposite side of the room.

“But, red lipstick and some light gloss,” Sam asked noticing I pretty much was just walking to walk at this point.

“I never liked that lipgloss,” Tyler mumbled, passing in front of me to pick up more paints.

“You know what! We need to go to the carpenter’s shop next,” I said loudly, walking towards that way.

“Oh jeez, that’s probably the first time she’s talked to Tyler since the break up. I should say something…”

“No it’s ok,” I mumbled, “He’ll just see how hot I look at the dance and curse himself for choosing alcohol over me.”

“Right,” she grumbled getting mad at me for listening to her thoughts.

“Sorry, yours come in stronger than anyone else’s. Well, yours, Richard’s and my family’s but I block out his before I get unneeded details of his love life,” I explained.

“Oh, why do you think that is?” she asked curiously.

“I figure it’s because I’ve known you longer. You know, your voice is easy to pick out in a crowd,” I suggested not entirely sure of this theory.

“That makes sense I guess,” Sam mumbled.

We walked up to the door and Sam’s eyes went wide in realization.

“Wait, so you hear voices in your head?” she asked before I could answer her thoughts.

“Yeah, how else would it work?”

“I dunno, I guess I just didn’t realize… No wonder you get crazy sometimes, I couldn’t stand that,” she said trying to be sympathetic.

The word “crazy” was pretty much all I heard.

“Yeah, I’d be terrible for you to just have more than one thought in your head. It might make your head explode to have multiple thought patterns going at once,” I snapped aiming for the jugular.

Sam just stood there like stone, expressionless but I could feel the hurt coming off of her like the A/C had come on and just blasted me.

“I’m sorry, Sam,” I mumbled looking down at my hand. “The crazy thing is kind of a soft spot these days.”

“I’ll remember that,” she said in a monotone voice.

The door to the woodshop opened and we went in to take more pictures.

After I went home and took another look at the dress. I heard a knock on the door and my mom answered it. A low tenor voice that was muted by my door spoke with her and I heard footsteps coming up the stairs.

Then I heard the musical Italian thoughts of Romeo. What was he doing over here?

He opened the door to my room and I continued to look at the dress.

“Ciao, Romeo,” I said.

Romeo grumbled. “Ciao, Olivia,” he said, his tone disheartened.

“Hoping to scare me?”

“No, just surprise you,” he admitted.

I turned around and he was right in front of me. I stood there for a while and felt some intensity that I played off as imagined. I couldn’t deny that he was attractive, but he was Sam’s date.

“Keep the door open!” my mom yelled breaking the silence.

We both laughed at the awkwardness and I went to open the door all the way.

“That dress looks nice,” he said, “Sam won’t show me hers but I see it was her work.”

“Yeah, Sam makes gorgeous clothing,” I commented picking up the dress. “She made me a really pretty shirt once that made me look like I--.”

Then I saw a flickering image in Romeo’s mind that seemed to move in time with the thoughts. Romeo was imagining me with the dress on and He saw me looking a lot prettier than I’ve ever thought I looked. It made me stop mid-sentence.

“I should try it on and show it to you,” I said, “the dress I mean. Since I’m not your date or anything.”

“What? Oh, yes,” he agreed nodding his head enough for me to laugh if my stomach wasn’t in a hundred knots.

I slipped into my closet and put my dress on. I looked in the full-length mirror and smiled. Sam’s dress made me look beautiful. I pulled it down a little and fixed the sleeves. I opened the door and spun around comically.

“How do I look?” I asked him. “Your honest opinion.”

“Uh,” he said staring at me in awe. “Bella, not Bella, I mean, beautiful.”

“Ha, thanks,” I mumbled blushing. The silence returned. “I’ll go take it off now.”

I walked into the closet and pulled the dress off. I sat there for a minute staring at nothing. After I put my clothes on, I didn’t want to go out and face Romeo again. It was awkward especially with the dream. Why was he looking at me like that? Like I was well, beautiful. Sam was way prettier than me. This question lingered in my head all the way up until he left.

“Is that the Italian boy you were telling me about?” my mom asked, her voice musical and teasing as she chopped vegetables in the kitchen, “the one you wanted to learn Italiano for?”

I groaned, sitting at the dinner table.

“What?”

“I think he likes me,” I finally admitted it to myself. “Like, has a crush on me.”

“Why is that bad?”

“Because Sam likes him!” I whined. I put my head in my hands and groaned some more. “And she’s just getting over Richard. He was going to be a new start for her!”

“Well, you can’t control who the boy likes. And the boy can’t control his like for pretty and smart Italian girls like yourself.”

“Moooom, you’re not helping!” I groaned through my fingers.

I thought about not going and saying I was sick but I knew that would ruin Sam’s night. But then if I did go and Romeo tried to make a move on me the same result would occur. There was a third option: avoid any situations where Romeo and I would be alone. There, done.

“What? Do you like this boy… what is his name?” she asked.

“Romeo D’Arco,” I answered.

“Do you like Romeo?” she asked.

I thought about it for a while. He was very attractive. He and I had the same things in common and both loved music. He always smelled wonderful and—then I stopped myself. I could not like Romeo D’Arco. He had to like Sam. He just had to. It would break her heart if he didn’t.

I pulled my hands away from my face and yelled, “Why does that matter? I wouldn’t steal a guy from my best friend!”

“It was just a question, Olivia,” my mom said putting her hands up defensively.

“Sorry, I’m just worried,” I mumbled.

“It will turn out okay, Olivia,” she reassured me, “you guys are too close to lose your friendship over a boy.”

And that was the only time my mom was completely and utterly wrong.

The day of the dance, Sam and Romeo both walked up to my door and rang it. I walked downstairs slowly in my mom’s heels. The way they already feel on my feet, I knew they would come off as soon as I got into Sam’s mom’s car. We went back to Sam’s house and did our makeup and hair. I simply curled mine to try and tame the frizz. Sam straightened hers and put a black flower clip in it. Then I let her attack my face with makeup after she did her own. It turned out to be a lot but still really pretty.

I had bright red lipstick covered in a sparkly gloss and my cheeks were highlighted with a purplish blush that complimented my skin tone nicely. Sam made my eyelashes huge and put black eyeliner on my eyes that continued up my eyelid fading to silver. It was amazing.

“You are truly an ar-teest,” I said, staring at myself in the mirror.

“Thanks,” she blushed under all her make-up.

As soon as we opened the door to the dance the music was pounding. I took off my heels again and began to dance. I never knew whether I was a bad dancer or not because either way, I still embarrassed Sam. I managed to dance my way all the way across the gym and away from Sam and Romeo. As soon as I got across the floor, I looked for Wyatt. He wasn’t hard to spot in a crowd being at least six feet tall. He was dancing with a bunch of girls who, like me, didn’t have a date.

“Wyatt!” I yelled over the music.

He turned around and his face lit up.

“Olivia, doll! You look gorgeous. Sam did a good job,” he yelled. He carefully danced through the crowd over to me and gave me a hug. “I like the red lipstick, very sexy,” he added.

“Thanks,” I giggled. He grabbed my hands and began dancing with me.

“So, where’s your date?” he asked.

“Where’s yours?” I retorted.

“You know me. I do not date, I group,” he said nodding his head to the circle of girls from different grades dancing together.

“Ahh,” I smirked and he twirled me around.

After dancing for a couple of songs I walked outside to get some air. As I walked towards the double doors I spotted a wheelchair near the concession stand. In the seat I could see the back of a bleach blonde’s head.

Misty.

I ran across the floor and went up to the concession stand.

“What can I get you?” the lady at the counter asked.

I couldn’t hear her list the options. All I could hear were Misty’s thoughts.

“Skittles are yummy. Oh, pretty girl, pretty girl in blue. Pretty girl look sad. Skittles? Where Skittles?”

A moan came from the wheelchair and the lady ran over to see what the problem was. All I could do was force myself not to turn my head and look at her. Her thoughts sounded like little Sarah’s. They were very slow and distracted.

I couldn’t control myself anymore. I turned my head to look. The girl was indeed Misty. She was as pretty as before in her pink dress and makeup but her face looked weird. Her face looked so childish and innocent. The lady gave Misty a teddy bear and a loud high pitched giggle filled the room.

That giggle shattered my sanity.

This was all my fault.

“Oh gosh, that could be one of Misty’s friends. Oh gosh, what am I supposed to say to her. I can tell her that Misty brain got damaged when she hit her head on the floor. Oooh, but I can’t.”

“I just realized; I don’t have any money,” I said all the life drained out of me.

“Oh, okay,” she said the worry now splayed vividly across her features.

I blocked out her thoughts and walked out of the building. There I decided that from this moment on I couldn’t have any friends. They all had to just go away. I would just give my school friends the cold shoulder and they would disappear. Wyatt would be a bit tougher and I would have to hide in my room from Richard. Sam…

I nearly burst into tears at the thought of not being friends with Sam anymore. I wouldn’t be able to get to her by ignoring her or hiding from her. We were too close for that. I would have to hurt her. This fact made me draw a jagged breath. How could I do that? I thought.

Could I do that? Could I actually hurt her enough to make her never want to talk to me again? Could I plow through nearly twelve years of friendship just by one big fight?

My mind said I could. I had too. I couldn’t hurt anyone else. I had to detach from the world. Become a loner.

I blinked back more tears and opened the door. The music went quiet and a man was on the microphone. I took one last look at Misty and walked back into the auditorium.