Damaged Goods - 1. Chapter 1

“Go ahead and laugh!” That’s what I would tell them; that’s what I would say to all of them.

Lesson Number 1: The best way to defuse an awkward situation is to try to act as though it doesn’t bother you.

And that’s exactly what I had planned on doing, no matter how angry it made me. No matter how much I hated it, I wouldn't let them know it. To show emotion is to give power and if I gave them power it would be all over before it even began. As harsh as it is, the only way to look at this is war, and wars are won not on the battlefield, but in the minds of the men commanding the battlefield.

I was the general of my own one-man army and I was not going to fall in my first battle. ‘Go ahead and laugh I really don’t care. Yes, I am the kid who freaked out last year, so what? No, I’m not crazy; it was just a nervous breakdown. No, I’m not going to freak-out again. Yes, I swear.’ I had spent countless hours going over every possible answer I could give to every possible question that could arise. I had developed a habit of analyzing every possible outcome of hard situations - another of my coping mechanisms.

The first year of high school is enough of a war, but it doesn’t help when you already have a reputation as a freak. Freak, a term I had been corrected many times for using, especially when it came to describing myself. However, the truth of the matter is freak about sums it up nicer than any other word out there. It certainly rolled off the tongue better than ‘Bipolar Disorder’, or ‘Adjustment Disorder’ or ‘Panic Disorder’.

Lesson Number 2: Doctors are paid by how many times they can use the word ‘Disorder’ to describe you.

The more disordered you are, the more money they make. And in terms of disorders, I was a gold mine. No matter how many times the word disorder is thrown around, it never does me any justice, No, the only word that fit me well enough to my own liking was freak. I had come to not only accept it, I had come to wear the title as a badge of honor.

It had been over four months since the incident. With any luck, the entire situation will have blown over and the topic of discussion will have moved onto another more interesting matter. I mean, it was the first day of the school year. By now, maybe most of the others have forgotten about the kid having to be taken out of the school in an ambulance because he had a freak-out in the school cafeteria. ‘Freak-out’ is another term I’ve been told not to use.

“Nick, is everything all right?” I jump as I hear my aunt’s voice outside the bathroom door, my concentration now broken.

“Yeah, I’ll be out in a minute.”

“Ok, well hurry up. It’s not usually a good idea to be late on the first day.” I listen by the door until I’m sure that she’s gone before staring back into the mirror, going over all of my pre-prepared answers.

Lesson Number 3: Mental preparation is everything.

I take three deep breaths and try my best not to throw up, get one last glance in the mirror, and for the first time this morning, I actually use it to look myself over.

The bad news: I hadn’t grown hardly at all over the summer, making me a prime target for seniors with superiority complexes. The good news: they may either take pity on me, or be afraid to hit the school crazy. Everything was still the same as always in the looks department, same messy dark brown hair hanging in front of the same dull grey-blue eyes. Same tired look due to sleep disorder, another disorder that had earned my doctor another $75. Same average weight and height. Would it be too much to ask for some kind of growth spurt by 14? Most of the kids I knew had already grown taller than me. I was sure to be considered by midget standards now.

“Did you remember your Meds this morning?”

“Yes,” I answered as I opened the door. My aunt was in the kitchen zipping back and forth through the room, looking under the table and all over the counter, moving a pile of papers around franticly.

“They’re in your purse; you left them in there last night,” I said, as I grabbed a carton of orange juice out of the fridge.

“How did you even know what I was looking for?” she asked, holding her car keys.

“You lose them every morning, so I figured I’d just start keeping track of them for you.”

“What would I do without ya here to take care of me?” She came over and wrapped her arms around me, nearly crushing the orange juice carton between us. My aunt, who was my mom’s younger sister by about seven years, had been granted guardianship after my father died in a car wreck last year. She had been diagnosed with ADD from a young age and was constantly losing and misplacing things. She was one of the few people who I felt understood what it meant to be told you’re crazy or that your mind isn’t functioning correctly. She was the one who had taught me to take the freak title with pride.

It was another few seconds before she finally released me from her death grip. Somehow, the juice had made it out unscathed and I lifted the carton to my lips and began chugging, foregoing a glass.

“Really, is it so hard to act like you have some kind of manners and use a glass?”

“I would if there were any clean. No one ran the dishwasher last night.”

“Well if you knew it was full, why didn’t you start it?”

“Because we have no dishwasher detergent.” She looked confused as she went over and reached in the cabinet under the sink.

“Look, I got dishwasher soap yesterday.”

“Aunt Maggie, that’s not dishwasher soap; that’s just normal dish liquid. You have to read the labels. If it doesn’t say ‘Dishwasher Detergent’ on the label, it’s not.”

“Really?” She looked at the label on the bottle, then back at me, then at the dishwasher. She thought for a moment and then opened the dishwasher door, squirting a good amount onto the dishes; she then closed the door shut and turned the knob until it roared to life. “Soap is soap, I say.”

My Aunt Maggie had never planned on having children, and for good reason. At times it was hard enough taking care of herself, let alone anyone else. But when my father died, she was the only one left to take me, and she’s been trying her best to fit the role of caretaker ever since.

She was what many considered to be a knockout in the looks department. She was a skinny blonde with height that many people, myself included, would kill for. However, she managed to make it through life utterly unaware of just how many people were jealous of her.

“You sure you don’t want me to drive you? It’s on the way to the Studio.”

“No, I’ll be fine. Besides, last time you were late for work, Jeff had a bitch-fit, remember?”

“He did not! What on earth gave you that idea?” Another thing about my aunt was that she was a terrible liar. Which was fine, ‘cause so was I.

“I overheard you talking on your phone. In case you haven’t noticed, you talk really loud.” She was defeated and she knew it.

“Speaking of talking, is there anything we need to talk about before the bus gets here? You know, about… what you’ll do if anything comes up?” Her look had gone from joy to worry in less than a second.

“No, I’ll be fine. I talked to Allen last night. He said everyone has pretty much forgotten about the whole thing, so I think I should be in the clear.” I was thinking to myself, ‘Please buy it, please buy it, please buy it,’ hoping to avoid having to discuss it any further.

“Oh you talked to Allen? That’s good, how’s he doing?”

“Uhhh… he’s doing fine; he said he’s real excited about starting High School.”

“That’s good. Well it’s nice to see your talking to some of your friends again. I was getting worried about ya there for a little bit.” I didn’t even know an Allen. However, as long as she bought it, it didn’t matter.

“Well I should probably get to the bus stop.” I turned and left before she had a chance to ask any more questions about my fictitious friend. I was the first one at the bus stop on purpose; I was hoping that I would make less of a scene if I were just already there when everyone else arrived. It would be them invading my territory, rather than the other way around.

The first ones to arrive was a group of girls who had walked together; they seemed to take as little interest in me as I in them. If I had been born 30 years ago I would have had another disorder to add to the list; fortunately, being gay is no longer looked upon as a mental defect, at least not by any respected psychiatrist. It wasn’t something I denied or anything; I just never really mentioned it to anyone. Besides, it was probably the least of my concerns for the moment.

“Hey, is that him?”

“Yeah I think so! Wow, I can’t believe they let him out of the loony bin already.”

“I know! What if he flips out and tries…”

“Shhhh I think he can hear us!”

They were right; I could hear every whispered word. I had to restrain myself from making a scene right there. Laughing. I expected laughing, I could handle laughing. At least then I had a clear idea what everyone was thinking. I looked over to see one of the girls from the group looking over at me, almost studying me, as if I was a science project. I looked forward again and did my best to pretend to not notice, but even with my head turned away from them, I could feel their eyes on me.

A few minutes later, a couple more had arrived, none of them really paying any notice to me. One or two of them gave me a quick glance, as if they had to double check that it was really me they were seeing. I don’t think anyone had expected to see me again, at least not this soon. There was more and more whispering, but it soon became drowned out by the other voices and I could no longer determine what was being said.

I was almost home free of the bus stop when he showed up. It was easily the most awkward moment of my life. He just stopped and stared at me, which cause me to just look down at the ground and do everything possible to avoid his gaze.

The last time I had seen his dark blue eyes I was laying on the bathroom floor in a pool of my own blood, only moments after my meltdown in the cafeteria. I should be thankful for him; he did, after all, save my life. But as it was right now, I couldn't even bring myself to look at him. My heart began tightening in my chest as his eyes stayed fixed on me for what must have been at least a minute straight.

‘Why the hell won’t you stop looking at me and just go away? God, I don’t know what you’re expecting me to say. I’m sorry you had to be the one to find this pathetic creature half dead from a botched suicide attempt.’

“Hey Drew, over here!” I was finally able to exhale as his eyes left me and he continued to mingle with his friends. I had often wondered if he regretted finding me. Even though he was hailed as a local town hero, part of me couldn’t help but feel like he would have rather it been someone else… or no one at all.

I lifted my eyes off the ground just enough to see his long blond hair disappear into the crowd, and for a brief second I longed to be a part of that group, to be able to bring myself to say something to him, anything. How long was I going to have to be rendered helpless by his presence?

My train of thought was soon interrupted by the sound of the bus approaching. Swiftly, everyone began to line up and file their way up the steps. Maybe if I made my way back now I could catch Maggie before she left and take her up on her offer. ‘No! If I run now I’ll be running all year. It’s better to just get it over with.’ I waited until everyone was almost on the bus before darting my way to the end of the line at the very last moment.

I scanned the bus, hoping, if possible, to find an empty seat somewhere. However, it seemed as though I wouldn’t have any luck today. By now, everyone else from my stop had managed to find a seat and I was left standing there like an idiot. I felt numerous eyes on me and could hear a few more whispers as I made my way down the aisle. I wanted to just turn and run, but once again, my previous argument came up.

“Hey kid, you do realize we have a schedule to keep, right?” The bus driver was growing impatient with me and his comment had successfully caused a round of laughter. I needed to disappear and quick, before this became a scene. That is when I saw it, a hand sticking up from one of the seats, flagging me down. I more or less ran and flopped myself into the seat and swiftly buried my forehead into the back of the seat in front of us.

“Hey, you’re not going to be sick, are ya?” I looked up to see a heavyset girl with crimson red hair and dark makeup. She had a look that was almost a cross of confusion and pity. I’m not sure which it was. “I just thought I’d ask; you looked like you were going to throw up in the aisle and you don’t look much better here.”

“I’m not sick, just nervous.”

“Nervous about what, a bus ride or school?”

“Everything,” I said under my breath, low enough so she couldn’t hear.

“Huh?”

“Nothing I’ll be fine in a second. I just need to breathe a little.”

“My name’s Carrey, by the way,” she said, as she grabbed some lip-gloss out of her purse and applied a fresh coat to her lips. I didn’t say anything and instead just continued to take deep breaths. “This is usually the part where you tell me your name.”

“Oh right, sorry, it’s Nick… Nick Whiller.” The moment I said it her eyes seemed to double in size, as the realization of who I was set in. ‘Way to go, dumbass. Why the hell did you give your last name? There are plenty of Nicks out there; she probably wouldn’t have made the connection!’ I was mentally screaming at myself now.

“Wait, aren’t you the kid who…”

“Yeah, I am,” I answered, cutting her off. Afterwards we rode for a few minutes in silence, which was fine by me. I preferred silence, it was easy.

“So which electives did you choose?” It was the last question I was expecting. Out of all the things she could have asked, that was the best one she could come up with? However, it was a welcomed surprise to not begin answering awkward question already. It actually took a moment for it to sink in before I could figure out how to answer.

“Oh ummm… I don’t know?”

“How can you not know? Weren’t you the one who chose them?”

“I didn’t really get to choose. I was already gone by then.”

“Oh, ok; that makes sense then, I suppose.” Again, more silence.

Lesson Number 4: Silence is good. Silence means no gun fire, no whispering behind your back, no laughing. Silence means peace.

We rode that way for the rest of the bus ride and I concentrated instead on rehearsing my responses. Which I’m sure in Carry’s eyes only added to the crazy factor.

The bus emptied out fast and I found myself more moving with the crowed rather than moving of my own will. Like cattle being hurdled from one place to the other, you don’t really know why you’re walking in one particular direction, but you figure everyone else is moving that way, so your feet just seem to decide for you that that’s the way to go.

Once we got into the school, the situation completely changed and the herd of cattle seemed to transform as if by magic into a swarm of bees. One direction now became fifty and order gave way to chaos.

“Hey, you looking for the office?” I spun to see Carrey standing behind me. I hadn’t realized until now just how tall she was. At first it was almost intimidating. She easily towered over the majority of the students there. As harsh as it is to say, she seemed to be built like a linebacker. That mixed with bright red dye job to her hair made her a hard person to miss. Even in this crowd.

“Yeah… I’m supposed to go there for my schedule.” She said nothing but instead just walked past me down the hall.

“Well are you coming or not? I do have to get to my class eventually.” I had to almost power walk to keep up with her strides. The good news: we made great time; the bad news: I could sense more and more eyes as we walked. “Hey, look for me in lunch and we’ll see if we’ve got any classes together, ok?” she said after we finally reached the office. I went to say something else, but she was gone into the crowd before I got the chance.

Inside the office was just as you would expect; plain white walls that were decorated with generic plain paintings, in addition to numerous fake plastic plants. In the middle of the room was a woman at a desk who was busily typing away. She hadn’t even noticed me yet.

“Excuse me.” She still didn’t seem to notice my presence and just continued to type away. She adjusted her glasses once while looking up at the screen. “Excuse Me,” I said, this time a little louder.

“I know you’re there. Just have a seat and I’ll be with you in a moment,” she said dutifully, without taking her eyes off the computer screen. She seemed about as dull as the office she worked in. “Ok, so why is it that you’re here?” I had barely gotten the chance to sit when I was back on my feet again.

“It’s about my schedule…”

“All Schedules are final; the time for making adjustments has long passed.” She still had not once moved her eyes.

“No, it’s nothing like that. I umm… I don’t have one.” For the first time she looked away from the screen. She seemed to study me for a moment. I watched as she pressed her lips together, almost as if to disapprove of my presence.

“Very well, Mr. Whiller, if you would just have a seat over there, the principal would like to speak with you first.” I could tell right away there was nothing good about what she said.

‘Why can’t I just get my damn schedule? I don’t see why the principal is needed for that.’ Nevertheless, despite all my mental protesting, I took my seat and kept my mouth shut like a good little kid. After the first few minutes of sitting in silence, I began counting every time I heard the clock on the wall ticking, which only managed to turn seconds into minutes and minutes into life times.

Lesson Number 5: There is nothing more nerve-racking than waiting to do something you really don’t want to do.

Five lifetimes later, I finally heard the sound of laughter coming from behind the principal’s door as it swung open to reveal a tall bald man in a suit, shaking hands with a larger older man with short graying hair and a bad moustache that made him look like a walrus. I watched as they exchanged a few more laughs, shook hands and parted ways, leaving the walrus man standing in the doorway.

“Mr. Whiller, I presume; if you would, have a seat in my office.” His office was about as dull as the other one, minus the fake plants. “So first things first, how are you feeling today?”

“That depends; do you insist on seeing every student like this?” He sat down behind his desk and leaned back in his chair folding his hands on his stomach. It was obvious he was choosing his words carefully, which meant chances were I wouldn't like the answer.

“No, it’s just in certain circumstances I feel it better if I speak to the student one on one.”

“And exactly what do you mean by ‘certain circumstances’?”

“I don’t really feel it’s necessary to go into details; let’s just say I want to do whatever possible to make things as easy as possible for you. Also, I wanted to let you know that should you need one, we have a counselor here during all school hours.” This was exactly the type of conversation I had been hoping to avoid, especially with the principal. As noble, as his intentions were, he had so far succeeded only in making things that much worse.

“Actually I already have a counselor, and having a schedule would make things a lot easier.”

“Right. Well if you’ll see Mrs. Heisman, I believe she has that all set for you.” I gathered my coat and book bag and tried to make my way out of the office as swiftly as possible. “Oh and Mr. Whiller, on a side note, this school has a record of being incident free for quite some time, so what do you say we try to keep it that way?” I felt my blood begin to heat as soon as the words left his mouth. It took every bit of restraint I had not to make an incident right there in his office. But instead I gritted my teeth and just nodded my head.

“Ok Nicholas, I have your schedule right here. You’ve already missed homeroom, so just head on to your first class,” she said as she slid a half piece of paper across her desk. I should have looked at it then, but was more interested in getting on with the day and instead just shoved it into my pocket.

“Thanks, and it’s just Nick, by the way.”

“Not according to your records it’s not.” It was obvious arguing with her about anything was pointless, so I decided to leave it alone and just get as far out of there as possible.

The halls, which only twenty minutes ago were swarming, were now empty and quiet, giving the school a ghost town appearance. I took the opportunity to find out exactly where it was I was headed. The moment I found my first hour class my mouth dropped open.

“Is this some kind of joke?” I was probably over thinking it, but a part of me couldn’t help but wonder of it was intentional.

1^st hour (Elective)
Psychology
Room 221
Ms. Raltz

I wanted to go back in there and demand a change, but I already knew what the answer would be and besides, doing so would only prove that it bothered me and I wasn’t about to let them know it. So before I knew it, I found myself standing outside room 221, looking in at a younger woman who was leaning up against the front of her desk speaking to the class, which I was now supposed to be a part of. Before I knocked she turned to look at me, standing outside the door like an idiot. She didn’t come to the door, but rather waved for me to come in.

“Ah you must be Nickolas or do you prefer Nick?” Already a much more pleasant greeting than from the secretary.

“Umm, Nick is fine.”

“Ok then Nick, you can have a seat next to Drew over there,” she said as she handed me a textbook. I turned to see where she was pointing and the book in my hand dropped with my heart. It was him, the same Drew from earlier.

‘Why? Why in the hell him? Of all the kids in the school, it’s him!’ Fate always managed to somehow remind me just how much it hated me.

“Are you ok?”

“Yeah… I’m ok,” I lied… for the third time today.

Lesson Number 6: All the lessons in the world cannot prepare you for warfare.