Short Story Step 1
No matter how long I stared at the clock, it refused to move any faster. Someone in the back of the classroom is spinning their pencil, hitting it against the desk repeatedly. As our teacher continues her lecture, she moves back and forth between the board and her desk. Her heels make a clicking noise each time she moves. The kid next to me, who’s paying as much attention to the material as I am, chews his gum loudly. I can feel each noise like they’re rattling my bones. I had hoped that this class I would be able to focus for once, but all hope of that has flown out the window. I grit my teeth, squeezing my pencil in my fist. The girl behind me, Ella, shifts in her seat, her chair letting out a shrill scrape. My last nerve snaps.
I stood up quickly, pushing my chair out behind me and rushing out of the class. I walked down the hallway, feeling a migraine blooming behind my skull, and I blinked a few times, suddenly overwhelmed by the fluorescent lights of the hallway. I push open the door to the boy’s bathroom, walking over to one of the sinks. I put my hands on the edge of the sink, leaning into it and sighing, letting my hair fall into my face. My breathing is unstable, coming out in short bursts. I try to focus on it, ignoring the pain knocking around in my head. After a few minutes my breathing stabilizes. I look up into the mirror. I see myself looking back. I have deep, dark eyebags below my eyes, drawing attention away from the rest of my face. The light in the bathroom flickers slightly as I stare at myself in the mirror. What is wrong with me?
My chest rose and fell with my heavy breathing. I squeezed my eyes shut, focusing on my breathing. In and out. In and out. After a minute my breathing started to slow to a regular pace. I could feel the tension lifting slightly from my shoulders. I opened my eyes and looked back into the mirror. I looked the same. Maybe less panicked. Still just as miserable.
The bathroom door behind me swung open, slamming into the wall. I flinched at the loud sound, interrupting my thoughts. A hand slapped harshly on my back. “Eduardo Candido!” A voice booms over me. “How are you doing, Eddy?”
I grimace, looking back at Vincent Thibault, who now has his arm wrapped around my shoulders. I give him my most convincing smile. “Hey, man. I’m fine, what about you.” I shrugged his arm off my shoulders, inching towards the door as subtly as I can.
Vincent clapped his hands together enthusiastically. “Getting ready for the big game tonight. You gonna be in attendance?”
I laugh, hoping it sounds genuine. “We’ll see, we’ll see. I’ve gotta get back to class. I’ll see you later, dude.” I put my hand on the door, pushing it open.
“Yo, Eddy?”
I turned to him again, an eyebrow raised. Vincent rarely sounded so… serious. His expression had been replaced by something strange I couldn’t read.
“Yeah?”
“Blake has been talking about you. He’s really sorry about how things went down. You should talk to him. It’d be dope if you two got along again. There’s still a spot for you on the team, you know.”
I exhaled. It was meant to be a laugh, but it came out more like a scoff. “We’ll see.” I repeated, before leaving the bathroom.
