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Metaphysical

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Chapter 2

I wake up trying to kick away naiads that weren’t there and cough up water that wasn’t in my lungs.
My class surrounds me, whispering. I sit there dumbly, staring at their shoes. Some people have no fashion sense when it comes to shoes, I think. Which is hypocrisy since I’m wearing off brand sandals at the current moment.
I turn over onto my stomach, too embarrassed to get up. I moan.
“I think she’s dying…” whispers a boy, Nate, I think.
“Should we get the
Does any of this make sense? It's kinda confusing I know, but in a few chapters, It'll get real good.
nurse?” Donna.
“Mr. Gibbs is getting her.”
I roll my eyes, and sit up. With the astonishment of many. “I’m not dead, you idiots.”
I stand up and grab my brother’s old Panic! At the Disco backpack, that I now use for school.
“We should really get you to the nurse, Tazewell. You passed out and hit the floor hard” Mutters some guy. So, that’s why I was sore. Not from drowning, from falling.
I sigh, looking at everyone in the class. “It’s fine guys. Medical condition, that’s all,” I tell them, then lie. “I forgot my medicine. I’ll run home and get it.”
They argued that I shouldn’t be left alone. Since when were they so caring? Did they think they would get attention for helping me?
I lied, saying I was going straight to the nurse. As soon as I walk out the door I break into a run, straight out the doors, and into the woods that surround Princeton High, where I attend school.
I run and run and run for 5 minutes until I reach my destination. A shack, no bigger than a large closet. The Shack. My shack. No one would find me here.
I collapse in front of the structure, lying on my back, looking at the blue sky.
At school, I cringe. That stupid mythology book that we read was literally the death of me. I can’t let my mind slip like that. I was rarely conscious anymore.
Hours passed and I forced myself to keep a blank mind. If no spark of color, no imagination at all, creeps into my mind I will remain conscious. Of course, that is nearly impossible.
The sun still burns high in the sky by the time I am discovered. A platinum blonde crosses her legs beside me.
“You good?” She asks softly.
I shake my head. “What are they saying about me?”
“Supposedly you’re diabetic.”
“Good. That’s good.”
I sit up and look at her.
Emma Whitton. Perfect Emma. With her perfect curls, and her perfect denim blue eyes. Her glowing, clear skin, and pink cheeks. Her contagious smile. She was too perfect. I wanted to uglify her. She made me sick sometimes.
But she wasn’t just Perfect Emma. She was Faithful Emma. Staying with me since Kindergarten. Sometimes I thought she did it out of pity. The poor girl with a single mom, and a dead brother. But she was too kind for that. She helped everyone, loved everyone, and would give away all her money to someone else if she could.
She was one of the two people, excluding my mom, who knew of my condition. If you could call it that. She has kept me grounded in the real world.
Emma cocked her head “Where did you go?” This was her usual phrase to ask what I had dreamt about.
“The river. From the mythology story that we’re reading in class.” I look at her, terrified. “I died. The naiads drowned me.”
She threw back her head of curls and laughed. I scowled at her for being so cruel.
“I’m sorry,” she said, wiping her eyes. “It’s just, not every day does someone tell you how they died.”
I stood up, raising my arms in exasperation. “How can you be so heartless?” I question her. “It was so real. I died.”
“But it wasn’t real,” she assured me.
“It didn’t feel like that when I was drowning!”
Emma shook her head. “Listen, I get it. But you’ll always wake up, and you’ll always be fine.”
Just as I was about to retort, a shout came from nearby. And a frantic boy of our age runs past, then backtracks and stops in front of us.
“I—” he panted, “Heard…that you…passed out…in class.” His chocolate colored skin glinted with sweat.
I roll my eyes. I’m tired of everyone being so interested in my spells of unconsciousness, even if it is Ranger, who is the only other person who knows what really happened. I walk away, crossing my legs in front of a pond made by the rain. Emma explains how I died to Ranger in the background.
My colored, ‘red hot flame hair’, as Ranger calls it, burns back at me. Emma had taken me to a hair stylist for my birthday because she could afford that kind of stuff. I absolutely love it; it makes me look like a goddess of fire. Especially when I flip my hair.
I shake my mane of wavy flames and set my hair ablaze. Definitely a fire goddess. I feel a hand on my shoulder, but it’s too late. I’ve begun to slip again.
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WibblyWobblyMadLibThis teenager is a 'regular' and has contributed a lot of work, comments and/or forum posts, and has received many votes and high ratings over a long period of time. said...
Sep. 14 at 7:46 am
Bare with me guys, this is my first...anything, to write.
 

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