Unusual Retreat

Finalist in the 'Timeless Tales 2011' competition

I started counting the dark, azure, ceramic tiles beneath me. A little crack in the third one draws my attention. It is intricately webbed and branched out from the left hand corner. The webbing probably was originally white, though now grime had discoloured it somewhat. The right-hand corner is chipped right off showing the grey interior of the tile. As I continued to study this particular tile, my racing heart gradually begins to slow down.
This is kinda how I spend most of my lunch break, starting at the toilet floors and reading kids undying love written or scratched into the walls. I didn’t exactly plan to be a loner; I think it just kinda worked out that way. I still feel normal, like I could have friends, though that’s probably something that loners just say, right?

I don’t know or care exactly how many months I’ve gone to this same toilet, but I guess it’s better than going back out. I’m not really interested in being insulted. I suppose you think words don’t hurt, and I imagine for you that may be the case. For me: It does hurt.

When you are told you are ugly every day at school, you start to believe it. It wasn’t always like this. When you’re little it doesn’t matter so much what you wear and it isn’t a horrible insult to fashion if you decide to wear striped leggings and the girl next to you wears something different. I am not so sure why it matters when you are older, but according to the majority at my high school it does.

I suppose I can’t stay in the toilet forever, and I think I am already late. I make a dash through the door and slide into the corridor. I start to run when I see the clock’s torturous hands come too close to one another showing I am already five minutes late to science which starts at one o’clock. Abruptly an ice cold voice splits the air in five cold syllables.

“Elisabeth Tayler.”

My back stiffens and my head drops forward. My palms are starting to sweat. Mr Burk’s voice is nothing to joke about.

“Which class are you supposed to be in, and why are you running?”

Stupid question. He knows I am late and he asks why I am running. Not only that, but just by asking he is using up another two minutes I could have had in science. I am kind of hoping his question is rhetorical, I don’t want to answer.

“Well, as you don’t seem to know, I’ll help you tomorrow lunch in S16.”

“Yes sir,” my voice cracks as I reply. I hate it when it does that. Why can’t I just answer normally?

As I continue to my class, now well over five minutes late, I start to think about detention. Comfortable seats, no insults. So far it seems to be fairly good. It’s definitely an improvement on my current retreat.

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