NORMAL (2 page)

"You don't look okay. Can I get you something? Or someone? The nurse maybe?"

I take a deep breath and muster up my composure. This is the absolute last thing I need. To be labeled as the crazy girl with the anxiety issues on day one. He's just one student. I have to cut this off at the head. "I'm really fine, I just needed a minute," I assure him as I turn around and plaster on what must be an obviously fake smile.

Holy shit
.

He is a walking trigger for me. Gorgeous. My
God
is he gorgeous. And gorgeous guys in high school are assholes. Especially jocks. And judging by his physique, that's exactly what he is. He's tall. Built. Six plus feet of lean muscle... athletic. Something I'd have found incredibly attractive a year ago.

Now all I can think is how easy it would be for him to overpower me.

No matter how many self-defense classes I take, I'm still just an average height, slight figured girl. No match against him. No match against any man really.

Suddenly all I register is the desolately empty hallway, the absence of any other souls. The fact that there are over a thousand people in this building, including thirty or so just on the opposite side of the door he just exited, is completely and utterly lost on me.

My pulse races again, ten times worse than before. I gape at him in shocked panic, but can't catch my breath enough to speak. My hand reaches for the front pocket of my backpack again, but this time for the zipper. I can't get a grip on it, my fingers shake too much. My gaze makes its way up this stranger's frighteningly powerful body, up past a chiseled jaw, and lips so full and soft looking they are in total contrast with his masculine bone structure. My gaze inexorably continues its path past a straight nose framed by perfectly defined cheek bones, and lock on his eyes.

The sneer I expect is missing. He's not looking at me like I'm a crazy weirdo - though I'm pretty sure that's what I've become. Instead, he's watching me with genuine concern. His eyes are the deepest blue, like a midnight sky, and his brow is creased with worry.

And the strangest thing happens. As we keep eye contact, I start to calm. I breathe in, and out. In, and out. I am still panicking, but I can breathe, and my fingers stop shaking enough to get a grip on the zipper pull. I look down to unzip the pocket and grab the bottle, but as soon as our eye contact is broken, I can't remember what calmed me in the first place and start breathing hard again. My chest constricts. The bottle tumbles from my trembling fingers and rolls a few feet away. Before I can scramble to pick it up,
he
does it first.

I freeze, waiting for him to hand me my medication, but he pauses, and reads the label. His brow furrows again in concern, or consternation, and as he reluctantly hands me the bottle, I can feel him judging me. But I don't care yet. I can't. I need to calm down. I need a pill. I twist open the lid and look up and down the hall and silently thank God when I see a water fountain. I force myself the thirty or so feet to it, pop the pill, take a drink, and then lean back against the wall and close my eyes, waiting for the magic to take effect.

Slowly, the pressure in my chest alleviates. My breathing starts to even out, and though my mind is a bit cloudy - the whole reason I want to stop taking the pills in the first place - the attack is passing. A few more moments and I'll be able to open my eyes, maybe even venture into math class.

"Better?"

My eyelids fly open. I hadn't realized he was still here, let alone followed me to the water fountain.

"Fine. Like I said," I mutter ungratefully. He furrows his brow and hesitates and I wonder why he's even still here. For a split second, even calmed by modern medicine, I worry he might want to hurt me, and I swallow nervously and hold my breath.

"Why don't I know you, Aurora?" he asks casually, as if he didn't just witness me breaking down in the hallway.

"Rory," I correct, before I realize he just called me by name. "Wait. How do you know my name?" My tone makes me sound paranoid, and the irony is that had I not just ingested anti-anxiety medication, just the idea of this tall, ruggedly beautiful boy knowing something about me I hadn't offered him would have sent me spiraling into another attack. But I took the pill. I caved. So I can come across like a relatively normal person, at least for now.

"It was on your... um... bottle," he replies.

I look down, mortified. Vaguely I wonder if he knows what Alprazolam is prescribed for, even though he obviously just witnessed my attack. I'm thankful the bottle says the generic name, and not just
Xanax
, which teens generally recognize. Some even take it for fun, which doesn't make sense to me. There is nothing fun about any of it.

"So why don't I know you,
Rory?
"

"I'm new," I practically whisper.

"I see. Well, welcome to Port Wood. I'm Sam. Sam Caplan."

"Nice to meet you," I breathe, still without looking up.

"So, can I, like, walk you to the nurse's office or something?"

Now I look up. "No. Like I said, I'm fine. I just need to get to class." I turn and start to walk back toward room 313 when another student comes barreling down the hall. I pause and step back toward the wall, out of his way.

"Cap! What's up? I'm late as fuck!" he announces to explain why he's taking the halls like a bat out of hell. However, as soon as his gaze skates over me he comes skidding to a stop. "Well,
hi there
." His eyebrows rise with interest and he rakes my entire body with his gaze, he doesn't even try to hide it.

I take another automatic step back and fold my arms protectively over my middle. I tell myself that he's just flirting. It's harmless. It's normal.

But I'm
not
normal.

I'm so glad I'm medicated right now.

Sam seems to sense my unease and steps in front of me, practically shielding me from someone who is obviously his friend. His friend's brows draw together as he looks at Sam, clearly confused at his stance, as am I.

"Sorry, Tuck, we're late too, gotta get to class," Sam explains as he gently takes my hand and leads me back towards calculus. I'm momentarily stunned by his touch. A strange man taking hold of my hand should have freaked me out, even medicated. But his touch was somehow... comforting.

"Uh, okay. Catch you later, I guess," Tuck calls out and resumes his jog down the hall in the opposite direction.

As soon as he's gone I yank my hand back, ignoring the fact that a part of me doesn't want to.

"Sorry," Sam offers.

I just shrug in response.  

"He's harmless. Tuck. Tucker. He's just a flirt."

"Whatever. It's fine. I'm-"

"You're fine. I got it."

I look up at him. Back into those eyes.
Big mistake
.
I start to feel guilty. It appears that I've grown so accustomed to being the victim that I can't even recognize when someone is trying to help me.
Great
. Now I'm a bitch. "I'm sorry," I mutter.

"Whatever, it's cool. You in my class? Calc?" he gestures to the door to 313.

I nod.

"Cool, let's go."

"Didn't you... weren't you headed somewhere?" I ask. After all, he must have had somewhere he'd needed to go - before he got sidetracked by the new girl having an episode in the hallway. Sam chuckles and it's a lighthearted, genuinely sweet sound. The kind of laugh that instantly puts you at ease, that intimates sincerity and warmth. I'm surprised by how it affects me.

"Nah. I just get bored in calculus sometimes and ask for a bathroom pass." He shrugs and opens the door for me.

I go in ahead of him and to my surprise, he grabs the form out of my hand and slams it on the teacher's desk. "New student," he murmurs, as if it's the most ordinary thing in the world and then takes a seat in the second row.

The teacher barely looks up as he directs me to take a seat, which I do - as far back as I can - and the few students who look up, mostly girls, look only at Sam. And I can't blame them.

And just like that, I'm back to being invisible.

****

When the bell rings everyone rushes to pack up their things and head out the door. Sam turns around and I freeze as he makes eye contact and the corner of his mouth twists up into a half smile.

"Rory? Is that you?" a girl's voice rips my attention from my strange, hypnotized reaction. I reluctantly pry my eyes away from Sam's and search for its source.

Then I see her. Okay, so I don't know no one. I know one someone.

And it's someone I actually like.

"Carleigh? Holy shit,
Carleigh
,
" I stand and she hugs me. I hug her back hard, so grateful that she's here and that she even remembers me that I momentarily forget that I can barely even bear to be touched. Especially by strangers. But then, she's no stranger.

Carleigh Stanger's family lived next door to my Grandma Mimi - my mom's mom - before she passed away. We used to visit her up here twice a year and I would play with Carleigh. Always. She was my best vacation friend. I haven't seen her since we were twelve. I peek over at the front of the room just in time to see Sam smile and walk out of the classroom.

"They call me Carl these days," Carleigh informs me. "What's up? How are you? What are you even
doing
here?" she asks excitedly. I laugh at her energy.
When was the last time I actually laughed?

"Slow down,
Carl.
I... well, I moved here," I explain.

"So you're here for good? Like you go to school here now? Like for the rest of the year?"

"That's the plan," I confirm and am rewarded by her ear-to-ear grin.

Present Day

C
arl is eager to catch up, but we both have to get to different classes. We hastily compare schedules and learn that we share the same lunch period and plan to meet up then. My next four classes pass slowly. I feel slow in general, because of my medicine, but I'm grateful not to be panicking. None of my teachers make me do that thing where they ask you to stand up and introduce yourself. Say a few things about yourself. I couldn't be more thankful. What would I possibly say?

Everything
about
myself has been stripped from me.

I'm no longer a tomboy or a cheerleader. My friends aren't my friends anymore. In fact, they're my enemies. I don't like football anymore. I hate it. And everyone who thinks it's the greatest thing in the world. My boyfriend - well,
ex-
boyfriend - is my worst fucking nightmare. I haven't done anything in the last nine months other than cry, read, cry, listen to music, and cry. Oh, and have panic attacks. I'm sure that would all make for an inspiring introduction.

As I walk around the building to the parking lot where I agreed to meet Carl, I wonder how the past few years have changed her. No one is the same person at eighteen as they were at twelve. My best girl friend from back home- well,
ex
best friend, Lacey, is just like how I used to be. Well, how I was last year anyway. Or at least how I
tried
to be to fit in with the girls, as much as any innate tomboy really can. She likes boys, and cars, and football, and being popular, and trying to become more popular. Right now, all I want to do is figure out who the "cool kids" are here, and avoid them like the plague. I hope Carl is more of an outsider type. I could use a friend, but I don't think I could handle a clique, and
definitely
not the popular clique.

But deep down I know Carl is no loner. She's always been friendly, and she's pretty too. The last time I saw her, her naturally blond hair hung down to her waist, but now it's cut to her shoulders in a more contemporary style. Unlike me. My auburn hair still hangs long and I rarely style it into anything other than its natural boring waves. When I saw her this morning, Carl was wearing eye shadow, liner,
the works
, and she did an expert job of accentuating her light green eyes. I used to wear makeup to school. Used to spend twenty full minutes on it every morning. Now I wear mascara and lip gloss at most. I don't want to seem like I’m trying. When people think you're trying, they think you're looking for something. And I'm looking for nothing.

When Carl shows up, she's flanked by another girl with blond hair, but it's definitely not natural, and neither are her pink dyed tips. They both smile warmly and Carl hugs me again.

"This is Tina. Tina, Rory," Carl introduces.

"Hi," I murmur, but Tina pulls me in for a hug just like Carl did. Not what I expected. I tense and hold my breath until she pulls away.

"Great to meet you, we only have forty three minutes for lunch. Diner good with you?" she says a mile a minute.

"Uh, sure," I reply and fall into step behind them as we head to what I assume is one of their cars.

"We get to leave campus for lunch?" I ask. My old school made us eat in the cafeteria.