An Engrish Paper

An Engrish Paper

It was a normal day without morning band practice. I woke up at five, and snoozed till five-fifteen after I had made sure my hedgehog was still alive. Solemnly, I got dressed and ate my regular breakfast. It was a little nippy outside, but perfect for me and my large black jacket.

The night was waning, but it was still full of the terrifying mysteries and creatures that could swallow up someone like me. A faint mewing came from behind me, as my favorite black cat ran to greet and excort me into the night. Mrs. Heather came and picked me up, and afterwards I sat in the silence of the old school bus. As time went on, I eventually put on my tunes, and felt a little dead inside.

Colorado was playing.

To anyone, that might seem normal; it was just a song. But to me, the raspy voice that sang "Is it rainin'..." made my heart feel like a heap of lead in my chest. I was a big girl now, I couldn't cry because of this simple song.

The approximate hour or so had passed, and I grudgingly woke up to step off of the bus. I didn't have a lot of time with my friends this morning, but I stayed around for the short period I had. We had our fun, and, for some reason, I left early. Don't ask me why, I just...felt like it, I guess. I walked a little slowler than I always had, and as I passed an on-duty teacher, she coaxed me over.

She said she had just found out, and was deeply sorry. I shook my head and smiled a little, it was fine, everyone knew sooner or later. After a minute or so of talking, she hugged me and I hugged her back, feeling a little better and happy that I had left early.

The day continued on as usual, but I felt a little nauseous about my english assignment. I had to write about something that had changed my view of things. As much as I love writing, I felt uneasy as I regailed through my pencil, the deeds that had unfolded that day. When another girl had left Mrs. Thornton's desk, I let my own and went to her to tell her how I felt, and she let me change the subject. As I walked back to my desk, my stomach knotted itself and I had to write happy things, things to take my mind off of those dead eyes. I tried my hand at a rough draft on my new bright and cheery subject, but words were at a loss. Everything had been harder to write since that day.

The knot tightened, and I could only stare at my paper. Then a girl next to me asked what I was writing on.

"I don't know..." I said weakly. My voice was cracking, I could feel it. She told me if I needed to talk, she would be there. What? I thought to myself. No. I...couldn't talk to anyone about this. This was my problem.

So, I laid my head down and blinked to get the tears out. I hoped to goddess no one could see me. I didn't want them to know that the shy, quiet girl in the corner had emotions. They trickled down my glasses and nose like bitter reminders of the man I respected and loved. I felt even worse when, even in my slightly unusual state, my paranoia thought it heard someone mention that "she's crying...". So after teh tears had msotly left, I lifted up my head from the small puddle of tears on my notebook, and wiped them off with the thresh of my hand.

I didn't do much of anything else that day. I stayed quiet throughout, even at lunch when I was with my beloved friends. I was afraid that my voice might still give away the sadness that my eyes withheld. Dance was normal, physical science was awkward, and I was relieved to see my mom pick me up to get food before the football game.

She laughed when I told her about the morning. "It's not exactly a secret, Anna."

I shrugged, knowing that I didn't portray any sign of depression during school, none that I knew of, anyway. I only walked slower and had trouble catching up with everyone. After I had gotten dinner, mom dropped back off at school and I shed the mask of every-day Anna. I was now comfortable being my odd self, and enjoyed the company of my fellow band nerds. Though, tonight was an away game in full uniform. I liked going away for games, but I didn't like wearing full uniform. "It's just no." as I would tell my friends. We packed up, loaded up, dressed in, and everything was a go. I snoozed a little on the way, listening to my iPod once again, and did everything like I usually would once we arrived.

It was a nice night, cold enough for uniforms. We marched into the stadium and did our job as performers, but I stayed quiet and distant. I wasn't much for talking, but moved seats with people when they wanted to. We marched at halftime, and winced a little when the announcers said we were marching at the DeRidder festival tommorow. That was far from the truth.

As far as I know, I didn't mess up. That might just be my ego talking, though, and after we had exited the field the next band took over. I watched them in a happy daze, for I know they were better than us, but I absolutely enjoyed their theme and music. After that was third quarter, the bands' break, but I wasn't feeling well, so I didn't eat.

I was surprised to find that a past teacher of mine had found out that same day. I was comfortable around him, and joked that everyone was finding out now. He laughed, and hugged me before another student came over and told me, jokingly, to stop bullying him. After that, another teacher, this time from my elementary school day,s approached me and I was astonished. People really did care about the quiet girl with the black jacket and annoyed look.

"Time is a wonderful healer." she told me. Those words seemed to ring true, but I still felt sad that I couldn't talk to someone about politics or our own views of music. Mom had tried, but she wasn't one for politics or music.

Our break ended, and I was punctual as always. The fourth quarter was exciting, even if you didn't like football. At the very end, a band student who had graduated last year was with us once again, and she had a small bag full of stuffed animals that our director had won at the recent *parish fair. This, I thought, didn't pretain to me, so I just kind of stared off into space and listened as she gave out the animals. At the end, she pulled out a fairly large purple monkey and asked if she should keep it to herself. Of course, some students said yes and some said they would but it from her. She laughed, and said someone needed it more than she did. The girl walked up the bleachers, and handed it to me. I was a little astonished, but smiled.