{Washback High}

      "-llon Bates."

      My head snaps up, my left hand pausing over the notebook I've been absentmindedly doodling on for the past forty minutes.

      I stare over at my history teacher in confusion.

      She sighs, looking slightly peeved - which is saying something for her. I hear snickers start up in the classroom, whispers being shared amongst each other.

      I slouch back in my desk, trying to keep my face from going red as I avoid everyone's gazes.

      Mrs. Flimming silences everyone with a stern look that's not to be messed with, her attention coming back to me.

      She clears her throat, tapping her finger on her desk. "Callon, pay attention this time." She instructs, raising a brow up underneath her glasses. "When were the Salem Witch Trials?" She repeats the question.

      Uh.....

      My foot drums the floor underneath the desk, my pencil lightly tapping the notebook.

      I search my memory.

      Having no luck there, my eyes quickly scan the board behind Mrs. Flimming, hoping to find some clue as-to what the answer might be.

      Nothing.

      I suddenly become very aware of everyone in the classroom staring over at me. All eyes watching.

      Brian and Roxie sit over to the right, up closer to the front.

      Brian's staring over at me with an amused smile on his face. Roxie just giving me a glance before seeming to lose interest. Her eyes facing the front again.

      1620......No.

       I look up at the clock that's hanging on the wall, nervously rubbing my knee with a sweaty right hand. Foot still drumming away, pencil continuously tapping the notebook.

     I frantically run through more dates in my head, frustration getting the best of me.

     1763......No!

      Without warning, my senses amplify. Everything that's usually just background noise, suddenly becoming way too noticeable.

       Each second that ticks away on the clock sends spikes up to pierce my brain. Someone obnoxiously chews gum over to the right, smacking their lips. Silent strokes from a pencil, becoming like nails on a chalkboard to me. The steady heartbeat of the person sitting directly in front of me, like a drum in my ears. The unpleasant smell of BO strongly assaults my nose, making my eyes sting. Eyes that suddenly see everything in stark clarity, colors intensifying so strongly they involuntarily narrow.

      Does it feel extra warm in here?

      Sweat breaks out on my forehead, my hoodie feeling much too warm all of a sudden.

      Whispers - that sound like normal tones of voices to me, echo throughout the room. Repeatedly circling around me like a tornado.

      He's such a weirdo.

      Like, what's up with him anyways?

      Always wearing that beanie.

I look down, my hand squeezing my knee.

       He's probably a criminal.

       Freak.

I close my eyes, taking a deep breath. Left hand tightening around the pencil. Calm down. Don't listen to what they're saying, control yourself Callon.

      Thinks he's special or something.

       He's kinda cute.

      Alone everywhere he goes.

       Too quiet.

      Friendless.

      Delinquent.

       So weird.

      The pencil snaps in my hand, like a toothpick.

       Well. So much for that.

      I take a few more deep breaths.

      Slowly, everything thankfully begins to return back to 'somewhat' normal. But one whisper catches my attention.

       1692.

       My eyes open back up, landing on one of the history nerds that sits in the first row.

       She's impatiently leaning forward, those words repeatedly escaping her mouth in a whisper as she stares at the whiteboard.

       Thank you.

       The clock strikes its tenth second.

        I sit up a little straighter. "1692." I answer, just loud enough for the teacher to hear me from my seat in the back.

       Mrs. Flimming looks slightly surprised. But nods her head regardless. "Yes, thank you, Callon." She continues on. "But to be more precise, it was Febru-" She gets cut off as a loud ringing fills the room.

        Signaling the end of this class.

        I wince, the sound never being quiet enough for me.

        Everyone immediately starts gathering their books, placing them back in their bags before rushing out the door - towards the cafeteria for lunch.

       As I make a move to shut my notebook, my eyes land on the strange marks I've been making all day.

     I usually end up doodling all over my books during class. Who doesn't?

      But today, today I've had this itch in my hand - it only being satisfied while I'm drawing these....symbols?

     I furrow my brows, loudly shutting the notebook. It's probably nothing. I get up, slinging my backpack over my right shoulder.

     Heading down the row of desks, I get stopped by Mrs. Flimming right as I'm about to walk out.

     Great.

     I stuff my hands in my pocket, turning my head over towards her.

     "Callon, I would like to see you after school please." She states, her eyes leaving no room for argument.

      I let a breath out. "Okay." I simply reply with, resuming on my way outside the classroom.

      I hear her own irritated sigh, then I'm out the door, mixing with the hub of noisy teenagers.

      After nearly getting run over a couple times, and getting stared at some more - which is completely normal. I finally make it to the busy cafeteria in one piece.

      I walk past the long line of people waiting to get their food. Heading over towards a deserted table that's in a more secluded corner of the cafeteria.

      I set my backpack on the chair beside me, plopping down into my own chair with a heavy sigh. My foot already tapping the ground.

     Pulling out my phone, I check the time: 12:47 P.M. Still another whole three hours to go.

     I toss it back inside my backpack, running a hand down my face as a headache pounds in the back of my skull.

      I roll my shoulders, trying to loosen some of the tension that's been building up since my little.....episode in Mrs. Flimmings classroom.

      For as long as I can remember that's happened to me anytime I get emotionally overwhelmed, or simply when I get too nervous.

      No idea why. But what I do know is it's really annoying, and to be honest-

      -It kinda scares me.

     I mean, no normal person does that.

      I let a small chuckle out.

      Normal.

      Only a word to me.

      I reach back inside my backpack, pulling out a peanut-butter jelly sandwich. An apple, and my water bottle.

     I'm old fashioned. I've got Orenda to thank for that.

     Taking the plastics wrap off the sandwich. I take a bite. I grab my algebra worksheet I need to finish, placing it down on the table. Then I reach into my back pocket, bringing out my earbuds and iPod.

       I place the earbuds in my ears, scrolling through my playlists until I find one that's to my liking.

     Pressing PLAY. I drown out all the cafeteria noises.

      I expertly flip my hood up and over my Beanie. Then I place my elbows on the table, leaning over as I focus my eyes on the problems at hand.

     I hate algebra.

~~~~*~~~~

      Something hits the table with a loud whack, and I jerk my head up in surprise. My foot pausing its relentless movements.

     And of course. My eyes land on an unsmiling Brian.

      Well, I was expecting this.

      While keeping my eyes on Brian. I reach up, pulling the earbuds out of my ears before placing them back in my pocket.

       His hands rest on the table - them having been the loud noise that woke me from my studying trance.

      He has two of his friend from yesterday. One standing on each side of him.

      His table he'd been sitting at is over in the center of the room. Roxie with a couple of her friends and some of Brian's other friends sit around it, staring over at us.

       I glance around.

      More like everyone's staring over here now.

      Since this is a small town, the number of students that currently attend this school is only somewhere in the one-hundreds.

       Meaning, we all get lunch-break at the same time. So now I have around a hundred pairs of eyes looking at me.

   No pressure.

      "Hey twerp." Brian casually says, his two friends chuckling beside him. I ignore him, looking back down at my homework.

      He can't do anything here.....But that doesn't mean he won't.

       I feel something abruptly land on my head, then my hood is roughly pulled backwards.

       I jerk away like I was burned, quickly readjusting my Beanie that's now slightly popping off my head from it getting caught up with the hood.

        My heart hammers in my ears, headache getting worse with each second.

        That was too close.

       Looking back up, I see Brian's now standing next to me, his hand falling back down to his side. "I'm not done with you yet, Bates." He states with a rough voice, hate clear in his eyes.

       I narrow my eyes, shoulders tensing. Leaning away from him, I start packing up my backpack.

       Glancing at my phone, I check the time: 1 o'clock. Only ten minutes until the bell is going to ring.

       I look back up at Brian. "What do you want?" I ask, my voice low.

       He smirks, obviously happy I questioned him. "Oh, nothing much." He hits my water bottle with his hand, knocking it to the ground. The noise painfully echoing throughout the now silent cafeteria.

       Everyone watching.

       Keep calm. Stay focused.

       I take a beep breath in through my nose, letting it out slowly from my mouth. I lean down to pick up my water bottle, immediately catching a movement from the corner of my eye.

    Roxie gets up from her seat in the middle of the room, holding her phone up to her ear as she walks towards the exit doors.

       My hand grasps the cool tin of the bottle.

       "Hey!" Brian's loud voice penetrates my ears, sounding almost like he's underwater for some odd reason.

       She disappears out the door.

       "Don't ignore me!" He angrily shouts.

      While I'm still leaning down, and before I can do anything. He reaches out, grabbing my beanie as he swiftly pulls it off in less then two seconds.

       The air leaves my lungs, chest tightening in despair.

        I hear some surprised gasps echo through the cafeteria, and I stiffly sit back up in my seat.

        Panic fills me, my headache pounding away.

        I look over at Brian with wide eyes. He's standing three feet away from my left, and in his hand-

       -is my Beanie.

       My head feels completely naked, and I get an overwhelming urge to cover it with my hands.

       Everyone's looking over at me, their eyes focused solely on my ears.

       Brian's eyes are wide in surprise - clearly not expecting this of all things. His friends the exact replica of him.

       Then, he smirks - like he just found the worlds darkest, most hidden secret.

       I involuntary shrink under all the scrutiny stares. A feeling like my chest is literally caving in on itself growing deep inside me.

       I wince at the sudden loud noise of Brian breaking into laughter, his two friends joining him.

       My chest rises and falls quickly, air not seeming to come fast enough into my lungs, nausea suddenly assaulting me.

       "What are you doing here, Bates?" He questions through his laughter, trying to look confused. "Shouldn't-" He chuckles. "Shouldn't you be back at the North Pole, helping Santa?" A fresh wave of laughter runs through him, and he throws my Beanie back at me.

      It smacks into my chest, falling down in my lap.

       I hold it tightly in my hand, head hanging down as laughter starts up all throughout the room. Everyone now joining in.

       No.

      My face heats up in embarrassment - I'm sure turning a bright red.

       It's happening again!

       I've been living in this town for three months now, and I'd been doing a good job of not letting anyone see my ears - no one seeing them.

       And now....All my hard work, flushed down the toilet.

      Despair tightens around my throat, choking me.

       "Wow!" One if Brian's buddies wipes a tear from his face, looking over at me. "You're more of a freak then we thought, Bates." He points out, playfully smacking Brian on the shoulder.

        All the air in the room seems to of evaporated, everything going in slow motion.

        I see the lunch ladies stare over at me with sympathy. Yet their eyes shine with a deep curiosity, analyzing me from afar.

       Laughter.

       Almost all the kids have their faces pulled up into smiles, their mouths open, fingers pointing.

      Laughter.

      The room grows warm. Unbearably so.

      Laughter.

       I abruptly stand up, my hands tightly grasping the table as everything resumes its normal speed.

       "You don't belong here, Bates." I look over at Brian, his face full of disgust as he stares at my ears.

      My heart drops.

       He's right.

       My hands tremble, everything moving around me in a sickening swirl. Painful stabs run through my head - so painful I wince at each one.

       My stomach rolls. The food I just ate wanting to make its way back up.

      My sensitive ears make the sound of laughter intensify by ten, catching each discouraging word they all say about me.

       I squint my eyes in pain, bringing my hands up to cover my ears as wave after wave of overpowering noises hits me.

       It's too much!

       The lights in the room dim, catching everyone's attention. Then suddenly-

      -They explode.

        The laughter immediately dies, screams taking its place as shards of glass rains down on everyone.

      The automatic sprinklers turn on as puffs of smoke escape the busted lights, creating more chaos.

       I ignore the pellets of glass, the drops of water that fall on me. Quickly grabbing my backpack, I practically sprint towards the exit doors.

       My breath escapes my mouth in gasps, chest overwhelmingly tight.

       "Yeah, that's right Bates!" I hear Brian's snide voice yell at me. "Run away back to mama. It's the only thing you're good for!" He shouts, the chaos of everyone still trying to avoid the glass almost drowning out his voice.

       But of course. I can still hear him.

      "Oh wait!" He pauses and I reach the Exit doors that lead outside. Almost away from all this hate - all these noises.

       "You don't have a mom!" He starts laughing again, ignoring the chaos around him.

        A knife stabs my heart, almost stopping me in my tracks.

        I push the exit door open with more force than necessary - it swinging back and hitting the brick wall with a bang. Undoubtedly leaving a dent in the door.

         Air. I need air.

        My whole body feels overheated, the cool winter air not doing anything to help. My face literally feels like it has a hot burner sitting on it. Sweat mats my hair to my forehead, dripping down into my eyes.

       My arms tremble, dizziness and nausea both running through me. Head pounding away.

       I keep my eyes squinted shut. Every beam of light outside sending stabs of pain shooting through my skull.

       I stumble blindly away from the doors. Finding myself in an alley between the school and another building.

       Leaning my forehead against the brick wall, I drop my bag beside me. Squeezing my eyes completely shut, I try taking some deep breaths.

       Only, I can't.

       My breathing comes out in short, tight gasps. My throat and chest feeling like they're caving in.

       My stomach continues to roll, and I barely contain the urge to actually throw-up.

      There's a ever growing pressure building in my head, squeezing my skull unbearably tight.

       "Your more of a freak then we thought, Bates."

        I bring my trembling hand up that's still holding onto my beanie with a death grip. Then I use both hands to place it securely back over my head, hands both trembling uncontrollably.

        "More of a freak then we thought."

        I feel my mouth tremble without my consent, those words repeatedly running through my head like a never ending roller coaster.

        Calm down Callon.

       "You don't have a mom!"

        I tighten my hands into fists, bringing them back up beside my head as I flex them in a attempt to help ease the tension.

        Everything's still so overwhelming!

        I know I need to calm down, it's not the first time I've had a Panic Attack.

       My first one was back around when I was five or so. When I had my first 'episode.'

       I'd gotten really upset about something I don't even remember, and ended up freaking out in the middle of one of my kindergarten classes. All my senses suddenly amplifying, every little detail noticeable.

       It got so bad I ended up having a panic attack on the floor with everyone watching.

       And now I still find myself having one every now and then. All thanks to my ever-recurring episodes.

       This is actually a very similar predicament to one other time actually...Though I'd rather not go into detail about that particular time.

       I take in painful gasps of air, letting them out through my nose.

        "You don't belong here."

        My chest somehow finds a way to become tighter, breathing getting harder, panic still filling my head.

       But he's right. I've never felt like I truly belonged anywhere.

      And I'm not just saying that to say it like some delinquent who hates the world and everyone in it.

       Everywhere we've moved in my lifetime I've always had this....feeling that I just don't belong.

       Even though I'm with Orenda. Which just makes it worse because she's the only family I have left.

        So if I don't belong with her.

        Then where do I?

      As the tightness, the pain, the dizziness, the nausea, and the panic start to become too much. Orenda's reassuring voice from a distant memory echoes in my head.

        "If you're ever feeling uncertain or overwhelmed, then just make a list."

       "You can do that, can't you Callon?"

        I feel myself unconsciously nod my head in agreement. Those words from seven years ago filling me with comfort.

      Orenda came up with this strategy for me when I get into a situation like this - with her being the 'plan ahead' kinda person.

       She calls it: Callon's today list.

       It sounds stupid, but it actually really does help.....That is if I remember to actually do it.

       I push away some of the fog that's settled in my brain, making a clean slate.

       Step 1; Calm down and work your way out of this Panic Attack.

       Step 2; Finish up classes for today.

        Step 3; Make it to work on time.

        Step 4; Celebrate your birthday with Orenda.

        I feel a small tug of relief as I make a mental plan for later, taking it one step at a time.

        Step 1; Get out of this panic attack.

        I can't help but let a wry smile onto my lips.

        Easier said than done.

        I continue to keep my overly warm head pressed against the brick wall, my hands spread flat across the wall beside it.

        Waiting for my chest to loosen so I can finally breath again, for my head to stop sending spears of pain through it, the nausea to settle-

         -And for the relentless pressure of panic to finally leave me.

~~~~*~~~~

        I numbly walk into Mrs. Flimming's classroom. My head angled down towards the floor, hood over my beanie.

       She's the only one in her class. It being 3:15 now meaning everyone's either riding the bus home, or walking.

      She's in the process of cleaning off the giant whiteboard, barely giving me a glance as I come in.

      I plop down in the chair that's positioned directly in front of her wooden desk, my backpack landing on the ground beside me.

      I stare down at the ground, my hands and feet completely still for once.

      After I'd finally regained some reality after the panic attack, I'd decided it was best to just go and finish up the last few classes for the day.

      And so I did.

     Completely ignoring everyone and keeping my head down, I made it through my last two classes.

      Step 2 completed.

      I'm probably going to sound crazy for saying this.

     But if I had skipped school for the rest of the day, then the principal would've called my aunt. Which would then lead to her questioning me to no end until she gets the answers to find out exactly what happened.

     Then we'd probably be moving next week.

     That's how my life works.

      Orenda finds out something bad happened at school, and the next thing you know: we're off to another state.

      That would be why in the twelve years I've lived with my aunt. We've moved eight  times.

       And I honestly don't want to deal with anymore moving right now.

       Besides, I've had worse then what these kids here do to me. Much worse.

       I hear a squeak as Mrs. Flimming takes a seat in her chair, the smell of her strong perfume making my nose wrinkle in distaste.

       "Callon." She starts off with, moving some papers around on her desk.

        I stay silent, completely still.

        She hesitates and I feel her eyes examine me, stopping on my hands that I usually can't keep still.

        She sighs.

        Out of all the teachers here Mrs. Flimming's is one of the nicest to me. As surprising as that may sound.

        "Callon, I heard about what happened in the cafeteria." She regretfully says.

        I tense up, my chest that's still not completely back to normal, tightening once more.

        I don't want to talk about this.

        "I've already talked it over with the head staff, and they agreed that I should call Brian's parents." I hear her reach towards her phone.

        I swing my gaze up. "No!" My voice comes out slightly panicked, a tremor present.

       It'll just make things worse.

       She raises an eyebrow at me, her eyes examining my face. Placing the phone back down, she leans her arms on the desk, eyes staring me down.

        "Are you alright, Callon?" She questions, her eyes softening.

        If I had a penny for each time someone asked me that question during my lifetime, I'd be rich.

        I slightly nod my head, looking down. "I'm fine." I gruffly reply, probably sounding a bit meaner than what I was going for.

        She doesn't seem completely convinced. "Should I call your aunt?" She hesitantly asks.

       I shake my head now. "Is there a reason you wanted me?" I ask, trying to speed things along.

     She looks a little taken aback by my brash attitude. But she quickly reverts back to her normal stern self.

     "Well, I know we've talked about this before." She says. "But I feel I should remind you, Callon." She picks up a paper.

       "I know your ADHD hinders you in your studies and in attending class." She states.

        My hands fist in my lap, and I keep my eyes down.

        I don't want to talk about this either.

       "But your grades are slipping, Callon." I wince. "And as your teacher, I felt it was my duty to inform you in-person."

         Is this all?

         "And I know you have work to get to, so I'll make this frank." She crosses her arms on the desk, and I look up.

         She stares me in the eye. "If you're having any trouble here...or at home." She almost hesitates at the last part.

          My eyes slightly widen. She thinks I might be having problems at home? Like being.....abused?

          If there's a problem, it's the people here at this school.

         But, like I've said before. I've had worse.

         "You have someone here who will help you." She sincerely says. "And if there isn't a problem, then you need to learn to pay more attention in your studies and less attention on everything else during class." She promptly states, seeming satisfied with herself.

        I wait a moment, then nod my head. "Okay. Can I go now?" I quickly ask. "I'm going to be late for work." That's a lie, but she doesn't know that.

         She nods, motioning over towards the door.

         "Alright, if there's nothing you want to add?" She drawls out, probably hoping she can get some last minute closure from me.

        I shake my head, getting up to leave. Swinging my backpack up on my shoulder, I head towards the closed door.

       "Oh! And Callon." She calls as my hand lands on the doorknob.

        I look back at her.

       She gives me a warm smile. "Happy birthday."

       I give her a rare small smile of my own. Then I proceed with opening the door and heading out.

        I walk down the now deserted hall, only the maintenance-man in sight.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A/N
          Okey wow! That's a bit of a heavy first half of the chapter (I felt so bad for Callon as I was rereading it😭)

          But I'm thinking I'll be making the chapters a bit shorter now that we've finally gotten somewhere lol.😏😏

        Sorry for taking so long to update, our only uncle who lives over in Hawaii came to visit Sunday-Tuesday morning, and we only see him like five times throughout the year, so I was busy with that. (We went to see the new Lego Batman movie) and I still have schoolwork I do, so yeah, I've been pretty busy you could say.🤗

Questions:

       1. So whatcha ya think so far now??

       2. Did anyone expect Callon to have ADHD? I'd be impressed if you did, as I didn't really hint toward it much. (So it's alright if you didn't guess it lol👌🏻)

3. What'd you think of the Callon and Roxie moment in the alley? (I personally thought it was hilarious 😂 but I find a lot of things amusing.😜)

4. Was there anything that personally stood out to you while you were reading this chapter? (I'm curious.)

5. Has anyone seen the new Lego Batman movie? And if so, what'd you think?

      So, we did an excellent job on completing my order of Votes and comments on the last chapter. (Two thumbs up everyone!👍🏻👍🏻)

Oh! And if anyone spots any noticeable spelling/grammar mistakes, please point them out to me! (I hugely appreciate it!😁)

Now *Rubs hands together * Seven votes and Twenty comments (although I don't think we'll be having a problem with that lol) for this order before the next update!!

So get to VOTING people.....and commenting, I wanna hear your thoughts! (No matter how creepy that sounds😜)

Maggy