Conscience

I hate my conscience.
It nags me constantly, telling me what I did wrong, never what I did right.
Like today, I told my mom I didn't want her sitting with me for Parent Visitation Day. Well, not directly, but it was definately implied. After seeing my mom's face, I now can't eat my lunch. I don't know if I would be able to eat my lunch in the first place. It's a greasy pizza with who knows what on it. And I think it's moving. I push the tray away from me.
I'm sitting by myself. The only friend I have is Halee, who is in the seventh grade, and I'm in the eighth, so I'm alone. Maybe I wouldn't be if I'd changed my ways during sixth grade. I used to have a ton of friends in elementary school. But when middle school started, they had pretty much all decided that they were too cool for me. Including Nathan.
Nathan's a long story. I've known him since, like, first grade, and have been good friends ever since then. Then, in the fifth grade, I developed a little crush on him. Then, in middle school, when everyone starts going out, it turned into a bigger crush. And bigger and bigger, until today, up to this very minute, where I spend almost every waking moment he wasn't with Jessica, and that he was with me.
But that would be impossible. The only time we ever interact is when he asks for a pencil or the homework, or when he asks what Mr. Anderson, our orchestra instructer, said. (We sit next to each other, since he's first chair, and I'm second chair viola.)

But anyway, I'm sitting alone when Racheal comes to sit down. She's pretty much the only person who talks to me my age who actually has a real conversation.
"Hi." She says, opening her mouth wide so she doesn't get any pizza sauce on her face. Unlike me. I'm horrible when it comes to eating. I have gotten chocolate on my forehead, or so Halee says. But why should I believe her? She's the one who's catch phrase is "come to the dark side. We have cookies."
"Hi."
"What's wrong, you're not eating. And you eat a lot."
"I don't know, I feel... guilty. I told, no, implied, that I didn't want Mom sitting with me at Parent Visitation Day for lunch, and after seeing that look on her face, I don't think she'll ever make me lunch again.
"Why don't you go talk to her?"
"I don't know where she went! She probably went to my brother's classes."
"Well, isn't she coming to your orchestra class or something?"
"Yeah, I guess I'll talk to her then." So that ended that.

It was a long rest of fourth and fifth block. When sixth period arrived, and I was supposed to go to orchestra, I was a little surprised to not find my mom standing by the stage doors.
"Please tell me you brought your music." Nathan's voice said right in my ear, bringing me back from my thoughts.
"You know, that really doesn't work when your music folders are right in your hands."
"Right." And Nathan walked away to get his instrument.

When we were both ready, rosin on our bows, we sat down only to be yelled at by Mr. Anderson.
"Now, you violas have to tighten up on 'Cats and Dogs'."
"Yes, Mr. Anderson." We droned. I looked back to where the instruments were. Out of nowhere, my mom was standing back there, leaning against the wall. I smiled at her, and she smiled back. I had a feeling we were good.





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