CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX
NADIA
FIRST DAY BACK
It was my first day in school since I had been discharged from the hospital. A mixture of anticipation and anxiety lingered in my gut. I didn’t want to go, but Jack had done a great job convincing me that I needed to finish what I started.
“You don’t want them calling you a dropout,” he had said.
He had spent the past two days at my place, making me feel like I was the only one that mattered to him. In those days we became closer, did things together, got more intimate, and even had sex.
I fiddled with the hem of my shirt as I stood outside the school gates, the morning sun casting a warm glow on everything around me. I had no idea what kind of reception to expect from my classmates. It’s not like I expected them to throw their arms around me, considering not one of them had come to visit me at the hospital.
As I stepped through the front doors of the school, the familiar sounds of chatter and laughter enveloped me, a noisy cocktail of excitement and indifference. Students congregated at lockers, sharing stories and gossiping about everything under the sun. I paused for a moment, taking a deep breath to settle my nerves before heading to my first class.
Almost every pair of eyes fell on me the moment I walked in-whispers and muffled conversations trailing behind me like a shadow. I pretended not to notice, keeping my head high as I walked toward my seat. My heart raced, a mix of dread and defiance fueling my steps.
When I finally reached my desk and sat down, I let out a shaky breath, seeking comfort in the familiarity of the worn-out chair. Before I could collect my thoughts, I felt a hand gently tap my shoulder from behind. My heart lurched, and I turned slowly, bracing myself for whatever confrontation awaited me.
“Hey, Nadia,” he called out. It was Mark, Jack’s friend, wearing a casual smile. “I’m glad you’re back.”
“Thank you,” I replied quietly, trying to keep my voice steady. I turned my attention back to my desk, desperately hoping he would take the hint and leave me alone.
But he continued, “I’m sorry I couldn’t come to check on you. I was…”
“Save it, Mark,” I interrupted, cutting him off before he could finish. “It was your choice, and I have no business with it.” My tone was firmer than I intended, but I didn’t care. I just desperately wanted him to leave me alone.
To my relief, it seemed my words sank in, as Mark hesitated for a moment, looking a bit taken aback. Finally, he whispered, “I’ll see you later,” before retreating to his seat.
Just when I thought I could finally catch my breath, the teacher walked in, signaling the start of the class. I could feel my heart still racing from my earlier encounter.
Mr. Cardozo, our English teacher, cleared his throat and scanned the room. His eyes landed on me, and he paused, a smile spreading across his face. “Oh, Nadia, you’re back?” he said, his voice booming with a mix of genuine warmth and playful sarcasm.
I nodded, still trying to maintain my composure.
“I heard you passed out for a few days,” he teased, leaning slightly on the edge of his desk. “What does it look like on the other side?”
The entire class erupted into laughter, and I felt my face flush with embarrassment. At that moment, the laughter echoed in my ears like a chorus of mocking bells. I didn’t consider his words funny, but I stayed calm, forcing a small smile that didn’t quite reach my eyes.
“Anyways, welcome back. I hope you’re able to catch up on the things you missed,” Mr. Cardozo continued, and with that, he moved on, returning to the day’s lesson.
The hours dragged on, each morning class shaping up similarly. I felt like a spectacle, with teachers making jokes and references about my hospital stay. One of my classmates even referred to me as the “fainting queen,” and I could practically feel the heat radiate from my cheeks. Anger bubbled within me, yet I found myself clenching my jaw, suppressing the urge to retaliate.
As each minute ticked away, I realized I was silently enduring the laughter, the little jabs sent my way as if they were nothing more than flies buzzing around my head-annoying, yes, but ultimately insignificant.
“Just ignore them,” I whispered to myself. “It’s just noise. Focus on your work.”
And yet, the noise wouldn’t stop. During the break, my classmates gathered in groups, some throwing glances toward me, engaging in hushed conversations that I could only catch snippets of. It was as if I had stepped into a reality show where I was both the main character and the villain.
“Did you hear she’s back? I thought she’d just disappear,” one girl said, her voice dripping with fabricated concern.
Another chimed in, “I hope she knows she can’t just waltz back into the basketball Team. Right? No one gives a fuck about her.”
I felt the ache of isolation settle deep in my heart. I pushed my chair back and wandered to the restroom, hoping to escape the relentless glares.
As I leaned against the sink and splashed cold water on my face, I closed my eyes for a moment. “Why do I even care what they think?” I murmured to myself. I had survived the hospital; I could survive this too…and again…”
When I finally returned to class, I found my seat still empty, the room filled with a mix of chatter and unfinished assignments. Halfway through math, an unexpected commotion broke out in the back of the classroom. I turned to see a group of students pointing and laughing.
“What’s happening?” I asked the girl next to me.
“Looks like Jake just spilled his drink all over Brian!” she giggled, and I couldn’t help but smile at the silliness of it all for a fleeting moment.
But the laughter died down quickly when the teacher turned toward the distraction, glaring disapprovingly. It reminded me of my situation: just a misstep away from turning everyone’s laughter back on me.
The rest of the day passed in a blur, with teachers continuing to bring me into the spotlight. Mr. Cardozo joked about my “dramatic return,” while Mrs. Anderson asked if I had any “special powers” now that I had “come back from the dead.”
Every jibe stung, and as the final bell rang, I felt a rush of relief. Finally, I could escape. I packed my things as quickly as possible and hurried out of the classroom, eager to put distance between myself and their incessant chatter. They might tease me, but I’d be damned if I let them see how much it got to me.
As I walked toward my usual place by the trees where I could sit quietly, my heart raced at the sound of footsteps behind me. I turned, and to my surprise, it was Mark again.
“Hey, Nadia, wait up!” he called as he jogged to catch up with me.
I rolled my eyes internally but stopped to face him. “What now, Mark?”
“I just wanted to see how you’re doing,” he said, his tone more genuine this time.
I crossed my arms defensively. “Why do you care? You weren’t around when I needed someone.”
He looked genuinely remorseful. “I know, and I’m sorry. I really am. I just got caught up with everything. It wasn’t personal.”
“Seems personal enough,” I replied coolly.
He opened his mouth to respond but hesitated as if searching for the right words. “I didn’t know you were seriously hurt. I never thought… I mean, we’ve all been through stuff. You know how it is in this school.”
“Yeah, I guess it’s just me though, huh?” I shot back, bitterness lacing my voice.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” he said quickly, holding his hands up defensively. “Look, I just wanted to say that I’m glad you’re back, okay? I’d like to be friends.”
I narrowed my eyes on him. “Friends? Really?”
“Yeah! I mean, you’re smart and cool. It might be fun to hang out with you. Just like my friend often did before he left.”
“Just like Jack often did?” I asked, bemused. “You’re nothing like him!” I retorted, anger and sadness threatening to boil over. “You don’t get to just make demands like him.”
Mark seemed taken aback. “I didn’t mean it like that. I’m just trying to be nice.”
“Nice?” I laughed humorlessly. “Nice would have been checking in on me while I was in the hospital. But you did not!”
Before he could respond, I turned on my heel and marched away from him. I could hear him calling out behind me, but I ignored him, wanting nothing more than to find a quiet spot to collect my thoughts.
I slipped behind the school, finding solace under one of the trees that lined the edge of the property. The leaves rustled softly above me, and for a brief moment, I closed my eyes, inhaling deeply, trying to block out the din of the school and the whispers that seemed to haunt me.
“Why did I come back?” I questioned myself again.
Thankfully in all my encounters today, I had not met Alex and Sandro.