Still Failing At Everything I Do
Chapter Eight
Theory: My algebra teacher is a robot.
Why? She writes her letters perfectly straight; her sentences like there were lines on the board.
Plus, she talks in an obviously robotic voice. Patrick says I'm crazy, but I'm not going to give up on this theory until I prove it to be true. Plus, he's not even in my algebra class, so how should he know?
Joe agrees with me. He's created this whole, intricate 'Kill the Robot' plan in his notebook. That is a little crazy.
The whole period, we passed the notebook back and forth, doodling and writing out plans.
About fifteen minutes before the class period ended, Joe wrote this to me:
Reeeegan. You like Patrick, don't you?
My eyes got all wide and I ripped a hole in the paper trying to write a response.
What?? Why?
I didn't look over at him to see the look on his face, because I knew he would be smiling this all-knowing smile that a lot of stoners give you. When the notebook was back in my hands, I stared down at the page in pure happiness.
Well, 'cause of the way you look at him when you talk or whatever. It's different from the way you look at anyone else. And he really likes you, you know. He told me. He's crazy.
I looked at Joe, questioning him with my eyes. He just raised his eyebrows, smiled, and nodded. So I grinned back at him and daydreamed until the bell rang.
girl got it bad
Last period of the day was gym, which I had with Patrick. We're out on the track right now, and niether of us are really athletic, so we always run together. We can keep up with eachother pretty easily.
"So, uhm, Patrick," I started, gasping for breath. I'm not out-of-shape or anything, trust me, but this was our third lap around the damn track and I'm just not a runner. I was built for singing and jumping around, not running.
"Yeah, Regan?" he asked, breathing just as little as I was.
My heart was racing pretty fast now-- and it wasn't because of the running. It was because of the question I was about to ask Patrick. "Well, uhm, Patrick, I just... you know, wanted to know, if, you, like, liked me." I mentally kicked myself. Can't I even put a sentence together anymore?
Patrick stopped running. A foot ahead of him- where I realised I was running alone- I stopped as well and ran back over to him.
"Wh-what?" he asked, tugging at his t-shirt.
"Uhm, yeah. I just wanted to know if you, liked me. And I'm not looking for the, 'yeah, you're my friend' answer."
He stared down at his feet and asked, "Why?"
"Because I need to know,"
"Why do you need to know?"
"So I don't look like an idiot when I ask you my next question," holy shit, I might actually be speaking in intelligible sentences right now. And I might actually look cool doing it.
People were running past us, without a care in the world that they were slamming into our backs or that one of them hit me so hard I landed on my hands and knees. Patrick pulled me back up and said, "I... well, yeah, I do,"
I smiled, ignoring my bloody palms. "Well, good then, because I like you too. So, Patrick, will you-"
"No!" he yelled. The grin slipped off my face. "I mean, don't ask me. I want to ask you." I raised an eyebrow. "Regan," he started, "Will you go out with me?"
I laughed, "You are so immature. But yes."
Let's just say, we didn't do any more running that day. But we did a lot of grinning, even when the gym teacher yelled at us and told off us for blocking the other students. None of that mattered.
it's a natural kind of high
I felt like I was walking on air on my way home from the bus stop. Patrick and I are dating. And it's not just in my dreams!
My good mood lasted until I walked in through the door of my house. But that could kill anyone's mood.
"Hey mom," I yelled, but I recieved no answer. "Moooooom, I'm hooome," I sang, walking into the kitchen. There she was, sitting at the breakfast bar, a piece of wet and torn paper in her hands.
"What's that, mom?" I asked, looking over her shoulder to try to read it.
She hid it under a loaf of bread and turned around to face me. "That is none of your business!" she screamed. Her eyes were red and puffy, like she had been crying.
I furrowed my brow and pulled the paper out from under the bread to read it. She tried to take it back, but I held it out of her reach. "Dear Marie, the past 23 years with you have been less than what I expected, and I simply can not handle anymore of it..." I stopped reading right there and looked my mother in the eyes. What was once sadness had been replaced by pure anger-- anger that was directed at me.
"It's all your fault!!" she screamed, hot tears running down her face. "It's all your fault he left! If you could've just been like your little brother..." She stood up and started walking towards me, backing me into the corner.
"Mom," I yelped, a tiny, pathetic sound. I felt a tear roll down my own cheek, and I dropped the letter to the floor.
"I tried to be everything to him!! When we first got married, he was so happy!! We wanted boys, boys who would grow up to go to the Ivy League! Boys who could be something!!" She picked the letter up off the floor and started ripping it to pieces. "And then I got pregnant! He was so excited! We went to the doctor and found out that we were having a girl!!"
I was shaking, really shaking, sobbing uncontrollably.
"Do you know your father wanted me to get an abortion? And I almost did, Regan, I was at the office, in the waiting room, it was perfect! If it had been even a week later, I would'nt have been legally allowed to get the abortion. And then what happened? I went into labor, right there in that room!!
"All your birth certificate was was an apology letter from that abortion clinic, you know, you ruined everything!"
"Mom," I cried, slipping to the floor. "Mom, no,"
She grabbed my arm and pulled me right back up. "If it wasn't for you, he'd still be here!! I hate you!" With that, she pulled her hand back and hit me right in the eye. I found myself slipping to the floor again, but this time it was with such force that my head slammed against the wall. She grabbed my hair and used it to pull me back up again, and drag me to the stairs.
I tried to fight her off, but I was still busy fighting off the shock that my mother had just hit me. And, the even greater shock that my father had just walked out on us.
Before she could pull me up the stairs by my hair, I stood up and tried to get away from her, but her grip was strong. So, to keep from losing all of my hair and having to deal with more pain, I tried to keep up with her pace. She threw me on the floor in front of Jacob's room and kicked me in the face.
I screamed out in pain, and tried to crawl over to the attic door but she caught me by my foot and pulled me back.
"You're not going anywhere!!" She cried, pulling me up so I was standing, then punching me square in the other eye. Again, I fell to the floor in pain, crying and screaming, pleading for her to stop.
Right before she could cause any more damager, Jacob's door opened. "What's going on?!" he asked, before he saw me lying on the floor, bleeding and hyperventilating. He looked back at my mother and put two and two together. "Don't touch her!" he yelled at her, kneeling down next to me. "Why are you doing this?!"
"Daddy's gone," I said, even though he wasn't asking for my answer, through my harsh, rushed breaths. "He's not coming back,"
Jacob's eyes grew wide and he put both of his hands on his head, staring at the floor.
"And you can thank that little bitch right there,"
"It's not her fault!!" Jacob stood up, helping me up as well.
"You know nothing about it, Jacob! Go back to your room!"
"No!"
He just stood there, between us, until she gave up and went to her own bedroom. "Are you okay??" he asked me.
I'm sure I had two black eyes, my head was horribly sore (as was the rest of my body), and my nose was bleeding. I was really freaked out and upset, but otherwise I was okay. "Y-yeah, I'm okay..."
rest in results
I locked myself in the attic that night and cried myself to sleep. I wanted to call or instant message Aleida to tell her everything that had happened, but I was too shaken up to press a key.
Even when the Sidekick rang, I couldn't pick it up. I just lay rolled up on my bed, a pathetic heap, flooding my face.
This is a horrible end to an otherwise wonderful day.
End Chapter
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