she was afraid of confusing people. “You could also join a study group.”
“Yeah,” she sighed. Talking about Calculus being the hardest class she might take was beginning to make Elizabeth very nervous. “I could think about doing that.”
Ms. Petrova reached out her fragile arm and gently touched Elizabeth’s hand. “If you ever need anything, even if it’s not related to Calculus, you can come to me.” The students began to file in the classroom silently. Elizabeth looked down pretending to concentrate on a Calculus problem. Her ears perked up and she was trying to listen for any signs of gossip going around the classroom about her. She heard nothing.
Ms. Petrova walked across the front of the room handing out the Calculus tests to the first person in each row. “Tests will be graded by lunch time,” she said, “for those of you that care. It’s the first test of the year. There will be room for improvement…”
Jack ran in the classroom almost knocking Ms. Petrova over.
“Nice entrance Mr. Bennett. There is an extra credit problem on the exam. You have until the end of the period to finish. If you have questions, come to my desk quietly. Begin now.”
Elizabeth looked at the first question. “Find the derivative of exp( cosh( x ) ). Hint: use the chain rule.” She tried to remember what the chain rule was. It was only the first question and she felt as though she may as well just turn in a blank test because she was going to fail. She glanced to her right. Jack was pulling on his braids. He looked like he was struggling just as much as she was.
Ms. Petrova walked over to Elizabeth’s desk, located in the first row. “Elizabeth, do you have a question?” She shook her head. “Then get to work. You’re wasting time.”
Elizabeth started to let the pencil flow from memory and guessed on what she couldn’t answer. She finished the final answer when the bell rang. Forty-two minutes had gone by quickly. She handed her test to Ms. Petrova and moved on to her favorite class, AP Senior Composition, where Mrs. Henderson was very easy going with the class. She would teach them a style and they could write about any topic they wanted to. Elizabeth preferred to write fiction. The idea of concocting and escaping in a fantasy world where her main character could live was very alluring to her.
Her next assignment, due next week was a five-thousand word paper on heroism. They were supposed to walk around the room and gather ideas from other students. Elizabeth, still nervous about what happened the previous day stayed seated at her desk. Jamie Johnson, the blond, curly haired, tall senior class president took a seat next to Elizabeth.
Jamie was on top of the social pyramid where only a few lucky people, like Jack Bennett were able to stand. She was popular from beginning to end with popularity beginning in sixth grade. The people who are more physically beautiful and precociously developed in middle school due to good genes, early puberty, parents who are never around and have money, were always more likely to become popular in middle school with the momentum continuing into high school. It was a known trend that people who were popular in middle school would likely remain popular, and people who were dorky were likely to remain dorky. Even late bloomers had little or no chance of climbing the social pyramid.
“Did it hurt?” she asked staring at Elizabeth with her big blue eyes.
It wasn’t that Elizabeth was unpopular, per se. People liked her well enough. She got along with almost everyone in her class, the popular kids, the nerds, the stoners, the drinkers, the yuppies, etc. If you asked Elizabeth what class she fit into, she would say none of them. She didn’t look at people as status symbols. Elizabeth was thin and frail. She had no hips, no curves, and wore a
32B bra size. That was being generous. Her hair was naturally wavy and brown but she typically wore it straight. It was either up or down. She was simple. She wore no other make-up than mascara. That was just who she was.
“Did what hurt?”
Jamie smiled and looked around the classroom. “Okay, as Senior Class President, I think that it’s part of my job to make sure you’re doing okay, you know, psychologically, so you can achieve all your high school dreams and graduate with the rest of us.”
“I’m fine.” Elizabeth could feel her legs start to shake.
“Look, we’d all love to believe that.” There was no way that Jamie was sincere. “I’m really glad you’re okay. I’d just like to ask you a favor. If you want to hurt yourself again, maybe you could do something a little less bloody or maybe off school property? Amanda Slavin found you in the locker room and she was so grossed out she passed out. I’d just hate for anything to disturb this perfect senior year.”
“Jamie,” whispered Elizabeth. “It was an accident. I had an ink stain on my shirt and I thought I was using my Tide-to-Go stick. It won’t happen again.”
Jamie shrugged her shoulders and smiled again. “Good, because I really like your papers. You’re a great writer. It’d be really terrible to lose your talent.”
Elizabeth tried to imagine what she looked like laying on the locker room floor. The whole school probably knew it wasn’t an accident. They were probably all talking about her, about what a freak she was for cutting herself. They probably thought she was trying to commit suicide. Nobody understood what she was going through. Nobody understood how a simple cut could ease the emotional pain she felt. Nobody would ever understood how alone she was in the world.
On her way outside during lunch, she stopped in Ms. Petrova’s classroom to pick up her graded Calculus test. Ms. Petrova handed Elizabeth her test. “You can do better next time if you study.”
Elizabeth panicked and looked down at her test. The letter “B” was circled in red marker. “But, I got a B. That’s not a bad grade.”
“You can do better.”
Elizabeth walked out to her lunch spot and shoved her test into her purple backpack. She was frustrated. When did a B become a negative grade? It was only the first exam of the year. Elizabeth had plenty of time to make up that grade and still get an A in Calculus.
“What’s up buddy?” asked Angela taking a seat next to her friend. Kate was right next to her.
“I got a B on my Calc exam that I barely studied for and Ms. Petrova said that I could do better,” she said mocking her.
“Considering everything, I think a B is alright,” suggested Angela.
“Wow,” Elizabeth said, offended by her friend’s comment. She fired back immediately. “What did you have at the end of last year, a 3.2 Cumulative GPA? That’s like a B average for three years of high school. You’re not even taking Calculus. You have no idea how hard it is. I’m still going to get into Duke and graduate with honors and be something.”
Angela didn’t even look shocked. She pursed her lips and thought carefully before she spoke. “I’m over your attitude, Elizabitch. I know you’re having a hard time, but don’t take it out on me. Besides, I didn’t know Duke accepted teenage body slashers.”
“Okay, enough,” interrupted Kate with wide eyes. She looked at Angela. “We’re not judging her. We don’t understand.” She turned to Elizabeth. “We are not judging you. For God’s sake we just don’t understand! Why are you doing this to yourself?”
Elizabeth pulled her knees up to her chest and rested her head. Her friends were right, they didn’t understand. “It feels good.”
“How can cutting yourself possibly feel good?” Angela asked overwhelmed, confused and disgusted.
“Do you know that a national study found that like seventeen percent of students at Princeton and Cornell have cut themselves?” Elizabeth paused. “I remember the first time. I thought about it for a long time before I actually did it. I saw this movie on the Lifetime Movie Network about this girl, Dawn, and her mother was really controlling. She felt a lot of pressure and she cut herself. She burned herself when she couldn’t cut herself. Her mom didn’t understand, she just like yelled
at her and was embarrassed about the fact that her daughter needed help. Anyway, Dawn screwed up and ended up in the hospital. It just didn’t seem like what she was doing was so bad and I thought it could help me. So, after I cut myself the first time and it helped alleviate my stress, I promised myself that I wouldn’t do anything to seriously injure myself. It’s all under control. It feels good.”
“You stabbed yourself!” shouted Angela. “You were taken to the hospital by ambulance! How is that possibly under control?”
“Keep it down,” pleaded Kate. “People might hear us. Is this like some sort of addiction?”
“No. The psychiatrist at the hospital said that it’s my way of coping, that it’s not problematic. You guys just don’t understand. I’m not psychotic or sick. It just helps me face stressful situations in my life. Until I learn other coping skills, it’s fine.”
“Are you going to continue to see the psychiatrist?” Angela asked.
“No, my mom says someone might find out that I am crazy.” Elizabeth wondered if she really needed a doctor to talk to or if what she was feeling inside wasn’t so different than other kids.