Ariel

Mr Armstrong crosses his legs and leans back in his chair. "Is there anything else you'd like to talk about today?"

"No," I sigh.

Every week, I sit in this small office with its overly shiny plastic plants, answering the same questions and having the same conversation. It's pointless.

"Do you not want to be here, Ariel?"

"I've missed half my lunch and I'm going to be late for my next lesson, which will only upset the teacher. What do you think?"

"I'll write a note to inform the teacher of where you've been. Do you not find these sessions useful?"

"I do when you show me practical stuff. Like, I've set reminders and alarms on my phone so I know where I'm meant to be and when that works most of the time. The folders and labelled pots in my room help with homework and knowing where I put things, most of the time."

"But you were late for school the other day."

"That was unavoidable."

"Everything is avoidable if we plan correctly."

I roll my eyes. Of course, he would think that. I bet he didn't grow up with a self-medicating depressed mum who locks herself away from the world.  I bet he doesn't have a mind which overthinks everything like it's stuck in turbo mode; I'm surprised my brain hasn't overheated, melted and dripped out my ears.

"My mum was ill so I had to take my brother and sister to school which is in the opposite direction to here. It was unavoidable."

"Ok, if you say so. Have you spoken to your mum about getting tested like you wanted to?"

"I never said I wanted to get tested."

"You showed an interest."

"No, I agreed with you when you said knowing what the problem is means we can attempt to fix it."

"Exactly."

"So you're saying I'm a problem?" I arch an eyebrow.

He stiffens and stutters, "No."

"Yes, you are. You're saying I need to be fixed which means there's something wrong with me."

"There's nothing wrong with you, Ariel. Your brain simply works in a different way."

"So basically, you're saying I'm not normal? Have you ever thought I think normally and you think differently? Maybe, I'm how we're meant to be and you aren't," I snap. "What even is normal? Not that long ago, women were sent to asylums for masturbating whereas now they print whole articles on it. In some countries, they still kill people for being gay because they think it's abnormal. Are you saying they should be allowed to as being homophobic is their normal? Normal is only normal when the majority are doing it." 

Mr Armstrong rubs his forehead. "Let's not start this again, Ari-"

"Yes, let's not, because my whole life I've had people telling me I'm odd or different and for once, I'd like to be told I'm perfectly fucking fine because that's who I am and being me is ok."

"Ariel, watch your language-"

"And you need to watch yours." I jump up from the chair and storm out the room.

Mr Armstrong needs to be sent for a refresher session on how to deal with people. Currently, he's shit at it which is fucking ridiculous seeing as it's his job. 

For years, I've had him, and other teachers in the past, pushing for me to get tested to show there's something wrong with me. My mum refuses, like she refuses the suggestions that I should be on medication. To be honest, I'm happy about the medication bit. Part of me is scared if I start taking drugs I'll turn into my dad. Is being a drug addict genetic? 

Stomping along the hallway, I already know Mr Armstrong will phone my mum. I don't know why he bothers. She will tell him he should encourage me to embrace myself. My mum is all about me accepting me, which is great in principle, however when you're failing multiple subjects and everyone keeps reminding you how forgetful and unorganised you are; it's kind of hard to simply be me. Everyone I encounter in life wants me to change, everyone apart from my mum and Ryder.

Reaching the classroom I've missed half the lesson of, I open the door and reach for my bag on my shoulder. Where's my bag? I forgot it in Mr Armstong's office. "Fuck!"

"Ariel, step outside now and wait for me in the hallway. That sort of language is not acceptable in the classroom," the teacher snaps.

I shake my head. I'm not even going to bother arguing. This is what happens when you get a reputation, people don't give you a chance. They assume the worse and react more harshly. I can't wait to leave this place.

Leaning on the wall, I wait for the teacher to come out and tell me off. Faithful comes into view at the end of the corridor and I smile. I need some friendliness right now.

"Faithful!" I call out as I jog over to him.

Faithful nods and stops. "What's up, El?"

"Nothing new. Kicked out of class for saying fuck. Are you going to the party tomorrow night? Maybe, I'll get to see you in action again. Will Kia be riding the Faithful finger express tomorrow night?" I grin.

Faithful shakes his head whilst unable to hold back the chuckle. "El, you will never see a repeat performance so get that out of your head now."

"Never say never. By the way, Teresa is a fucking evil piece of work. You seriously let yourself down by dating her." I shake my head.

"I heard how you nearly had a fight the other day. Stay away from her, El, you know what she's like."

"I think she may have a new target. Taylor headbutted her today."

"Taylor?"

"Yeah. She's in the year below us. Really pretty but dresses in stupid plain clothes. Dating Miles, he joined the basketball team recently."

"I didn't realise he was dating anyone. I thought him and Teresa were hooking up."

"No! That's why it kicked off the other day, I was defending my friend, Taylor, because she's going out with Miles."

"Taylor should talk to Miles because he isn't acting like he's unavailable when he allows Teresa to hang all over him." Faithful shrugs. "I got to go, been sent to Ms Healey's office."

"Two times in one day, you're making improvements." I smile.

"Ariel, why are you up there? I asked you to wait outside not walk-off," A voice shouts behind me. "You're behaviour is unacceptable-"

"I'll go wait outside Ms Healey's office," I call over my shoulder.

The teacher mutters something under her breath and closes the door behind her.

I roll my eyes at Faithful. "Looks like we've got another date outside Ms Healeys. Would you like to lead the way, Sir? By the way, when are you going to propose? We've been dating for a few years now and I think it's time to take the next step. Talking of next step are you and Kia serious now or only having fun? Also, did you know she's part of the volleyball team?"

Faithful arches an eyebrow. "Have you been stalking her?"

"Social media browsing isn't stalking, and I didn't realise we had a volleyball team. I would join. Except, I hate sport but they have amazing butts, don't they? Whenever you watch beach volleyball they have these gorgeous butts and I would love a gorgeous butt. Wouldn't you?"

Faithful chuckles. "I'm sure everyone would."

"Is your butt hairy? Are boys butts, in general, hairy? You must check each others out in the changing rooms. Who's got a better butt: you or Ryder?"

"El, let's go to Ms Healey's or we're going to get in more trouble." Faithful puts his hands on my shoulders and guides me along the hallway.

Allowing myself to be pushed forward, I think about how much trouble I am in, not only at school but at home. Will my mum leave her room? Will the twins end up living with their dad permanently? I hope not. I love them two, I can't imagine not having them around. Will I have twins when I'm older? I don't know if I want kids. It's a big responsibility. What happens if I lose one? I'm always losing things. Can you lose a kid? How many parents have lost their kids? 

***

Staring at the ceiling, my mind is on overdrive. I woke up after a few hours of sleep; now, I'm brimming with energy and wide awake. I glance at my clock again, two o'clock in the morning.

Thoughts, ideas and questions flick through my head. Nighttime is even harder than the day to control where my mind takes me. It's like an uncontrollable wave which gets larger and faster, gathering more and more momentum until it eventually crashes. It's exhausting. 

A noise makes me jump up from my bed and dart into the hallway; my mum is in her coat, opening the front door.

"Mum? Where are you going?" I ask.

My mum jumps and clutches her bag before slowly turning to face me. It's the first time I've seen her in days; she looks a mess. Her greasy hair is scrapped back accentuating her puffy red-rimmed eyes.

"We've run out of milk," she croaks. "Go back to bed, Ariel."

"It's two in the morning."

"I'll go to the twenty-four-hour store. I'll get the ingredients for pancakes too, they're your favourite."

"Mum, don't," I whisper. 

My mum's eyes widen and I wonder if she understands what I'm really saying I don't want her to do. I don't want her to start taking drugs again. And I'm not talking about the class A's my dad used to take.

My mum was never into heroin like my Dad. No, she likes the legal stuff. Prescription drugs which are not prescribed to her but numb the pain so she can float through life in her drug formed bubble. She got into them years ago and even though she manages to get clean occasionally, sometimes for months at a time, she eventually falls back into taking them. 

"I'm just going to the store, Ariel. I won't be long."

"The twins are at their Dads. He'll take them if he thinks you can't cope."

"I can cope, Ariel, I just haven't been feeling well."

"Go to the fucking doctors then! Get some help because I can't keep covering for you. They're coming back Sunday lunchtime so you need to get yourself sorted or-"

"Don't, Ariel, don't do that. You can't take them away from me, you three are all I've got left. I love you all so much." Tears start to run down my mum's gaunt cheeks. "I'll be better. I promise I'll sort myself out. I can do it."

"You need help but you'll only get it if you ask," I say stiffly.

I want to hug my mum, I want to tell her everything will be ok. I don't know if it will. This isn't the first time she's cried and told me she'll sort herself out. She still hasn't realised it's not that easy. She needs to stop pretending she doesn't have a problem.  She needs to ask for help.

The front door closes behind my mum as she leaves. Grabbing my phone from my bedroom, I slip on my trainers then follow her out of the apartment. Walking down the stairs, I listen for the front door of our building to click shut then run down and exit onto the empty dark street.

The dark lonely figure of my mum turns a corner and I follow. Mission- 'stop mum from buying drugs' has commenced.

I message Ryder.

Me: You awake?

Continuing to follow my mum while keeping to the shadows of the buildings, I shiver. It's chilly tonight. The fact, I'm walking around in my sleep shorts and a baggy t-shirt isn't exactly helping to keep me warm either. Why didn't I grab my coat?

My phone rings and I answer without looking. "Hello?" I whisper.

"El, what's going on?"

"Why do you think something is going on?"

"Because whenever you message me in the night it's usually with a random question, you never ask if I'm awake," Ryder yawns.

"My mum left the house. I'm currently following her around to make sure she's not going to buy something."

Ryder huffs. "El, it's the middle of the night. Send me your live location now. I'll be there as quick as I can."

"No, I don't need-"

"Just do it, El." Ryder hangs up.

I love Ryder. If I was into guys he would be my first choice every time. He's the perfect partner. No one else gets to see the real Ryder. They all think he's moody, arrogant and into drugs. He isn't moody he just doesn't have a lot to be happy about. He's not arrogant he just doesn't see the point in talking to people who have no interest in finding out what he's really about. And he isn't into drugs, well he doesn't take them anyway.

My phone buzzes and I open the message.

Ryder: Send your location now.

I roll my eyes and send him my location. He knows me so well.