"A thousand times we die in one life. We crumble, break and tear apart until the layers of illusions are burned away and that is left, is the truth of who and what we really are."

-Teal Scott

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Adeline

"I'm glad you're up, I didn't want to have to come up there and get you."

I roll my eyes, as I sit opposite of my dad who sits on the dining room table, his face buried in today's newspaper. I watch as his eyebrows furrow in frustration, he always finds something to dislike in the paper. Honestly, I think he willingly sought it out just so he could complain about it all day.

His graying dark brown hair stood out in every direction, I must look like a saint compared to his bed head.

I stayed up all last night, going to bed early seemed out of the question, seeing as I felt like utter crap. I knew something had to be wrong but it didn't feel as though I had the flu or a cold, I just felt off. I couldn't explain it if I tried, not even to James. He wanted to stay up all night with me but I had insisted he go to bed; he took school and grades more seriously than me anyway.

I'm about to tell my dad that I was going to walk to school today but he stops me, with a quick shake of the head.

"No, stop right there. I'm driving you, I don't feel like talking with your dean again this week. She is very persistent on the whole threatening to suspend you bit." He doesn't even look up from his newspaper as he speaks.

He wasn't, in, fact lying about the whole dean thing, she really had it out for me this school year. Then again, I kind of ask for it. My teachers used to leave me alone, maybe because they felt sorry for me, I didn't really care. But now they seem to all want to attack me, part of my teachers simply feel that I have my whole life to mourn. The other half think I should most likely move on and think of the future. I haven't decided which one of the two is more wrong or right. Or maybe they are both wrong and I really just hate school; I sometimes forget.

I laugh, finding his dislike for the manly woman equality the same as my own, "Are you sure dad, I think she likes you." I hide my smile behind my hand as he glares at me from the top of his newspaper.

"Don't even go there Addie, Ms. Whatever her name is, scares me." This time, I can't help the loud laughter that echoes through our small dining room.

Gripping my bag, I shoulder it before standing, "Hey, I thought we were going to be late," I asked, still stifling a laugh.

"Oh right, come on kiddo." Rushing up from his chair he grabs his keys and wallet off the dining room table, heading to the front door.

I ignore his use of the word kiddo and follow him to the front door only to beat him to it. I open it, quickly walking to the passenger side of our black Nissan.

My dad is an insurance agent; he is paid pretty well. After being with the company for several years they bump him every now and then. He needed a career, not a job to keep his mind busy, it was good for him.

I wait for my dad to unlock the door and casually stride to the driver's side. For someone who is so worried about me being late, he sure took his time.

Sighing, I open the door when he clicks the button that unlocked it automatically.

My dad insisted on driving me to school which was only a short distance, barely a quarter of a mile. I used to walk but I would be late so he insisted on taking me but what he doesn't know is that I intended to be late. Being late meant you didn't have to bump into people as they rushed to their class. There was no sucking on each other's faces couples or the freshmen who insisted on acting like four-year-olds. Nothing bothered me more than people.

After about five minutes, we arrived at the renowned J. Edgar High school of this very quiet and pristine neighborhood. Which is filled with nothing but hypocrites, bullies, and the occasional floozy.

I couldn't help but feel glum staring at the red brick buildings. It was an open campus, the halls and lockers were outside, classes were visible through the large door windows and the staircases stuck out like a sore thumb. It was a complex layout but in the end, you get used to it. When I first started here, I got lost like every day, it was not only embarrassing but tedious.

"Thanks, Dad see you at one-fifteen." Giving him an encouraging yet disbelieving smile I begin walking away from the car.

"Adeline wait!" I stop turning to face him, "I'm sorry I can't pick you up today I have to pick up your sister from the airport. I almost forgot." He smiled weakly at me.

I shook my head, "It's alright, just don't forget Isabella, dad." I said while laughing, he always managed to forget the most important parts of his day. I don't know a time where I didn't have to remind him.

I stop, my face falling as the ache from last night creeps back on in, right at the center of my chest. It knocks the air right out of me, causing me to take a step back.

My dad leans into the passenger seat, concern etched on his aging face, "Addie, honey, are you alright."

Forcing out a believable smile, this time, I raise my head to him, "Yeah, it's nothing, I'll see you later." I finish the walk to the school building, ignoring the last of the lingering faces around me as I control my breathing.

The doors of the school looked like a prison cell, rusty light blue gates on squeaking hinges. Opening one, I couldn't help but cringe at the sound.

I head over to the office first to get a tardy slip, Mrs. Hooper, sat behind the desk. She looks up from her computer and stares at me from her oval shaped lenses.

Sighing, she watches me from the brim of her glasses, "Ms. Winters, late again I see, you know dear the school board can suspend you for so many tardies." Mrs. Hooper was a nice enough older lady, I loved giving her a hard time, though she only knew me as a joker.

Even though the dean did, in fact, threaten to suspend me, I didn't seem to care. Go on ahead, suspend me for being a few minutes late only to take away actual days from me. Cause that's smart.

"Ah but Mrs. Hooper, I wouldn't have the reputation I have now, though." She purses her wrinkled lips at me but smiles.

She shoos me away, "Go, go before you're more late dear, and try not to make it a habit."

Taking the slip from her I walk ever so slowly to my first-period class, ugh, algebra 2.

I loathed math, it was one of my worst subjects and who in their right mind teaches algebra to a bunch of zombie teenagers at seven-thirty in the morning; no one sane that's for sure.

Opening the classroom door I trudge over to Mr. Douche, sorry Mr. Donald and hand him the slip. I didn't want to bare the long over given speech about being late to his class again so I head to my seat in the back.

I took in the several judgmental looks from my classmates. The over achievers sat in the front, throwing side glances at the rebel. The ones who did work but still didn't do their homework sat in the middle. Then there were the ones like me, the so-called delinquents of the class. I didn't mind it, for the most part, I was left alone to a certain extent.

Not worrying about taking down notes, I start the homework that he's already written on the board. Don't forget, not starting as in succeeding but starting as in failing miserably.

My fist clenches around my pencil as the sensation of being hit with uneasiness spreads through every muscle of my body; not this again.

I drop my pencil as I try to breathe, my eyes unfocused then refocus, causing me to become dizzy. I cover my head, burrowing deep in the nook of my arm as I try to block out the melancholy sickness. This usually helped, but it's like the whole sick feeling thing has gotten worse; three times in one day isn't normal.

"Miss Winters! Adeline wake up now or leave my class." Raising my head from where I've buried it I stare up at him with tears in my eyes.

Mr. Donald's eyes widen slightly, indicating he saw the tears, "Adeline please come into the hall with me and bring your things." Wiping away the pathetic tears before they even fall onto my face, I follow him to the hallway.

I shield my face as a breeze picks up, hitting us full on as we stop just outside the door, "Are you alright, is there something going on at home?" The million dollar question all teachers want to know. I know some teachers really do care, regardless of that fact I still really hate when they ask me questions about my life, it felt too private. Why would I talk to them about life at home? They don't go around telling me theirs.

"No." I declared.

He ignores my slight attitude; I give him credit, "Do you need to go see the nurse?"

Not meeting his gaze, I nod my head yes. Honestly, the attitude wasn't from him asking me about my life at home, it was the fact that I had cried in the middle of class. I had told myself a long time ago that I wouldn't cry, especially in front of people I could care less about.

"Alright feel better Adeline, I'll give you your homework tomorrow if you come in." With that, he heads back into the classroom, leaving me to ponder what just happened.

The feeling came and went as I wander around the school halls. I just needed to sleep off whatever this was before I lose what's left of my dinner from yesterday.

I stop at my locker, placing my books inside. No longer wanting to sit in the sun, I finally went to the nurse's office.

The nurse had just finished placing a scratchy looking fabric on the plastic bed. She instructed me to lay down and rest my eyes until I felt better. She was nice and all but just being in here with the smell, it made everything worse.

"Thank you," I muttered.

A wide smile spreads across her face as she places my bag in the cupboard next to the small bed, "If you need to use the restroom the door is just outside this office to the left and if you feel thirsty just take some water from the faucet."

I nod my head, indicating I heard her. I lift myself on the bed hearing the plastic crinkle under my weight. I lay back, already feeling uncomfortable in a place like this.

"Just remember honey, you can leave when you are feeling better." She closes the white curtain that separates the office from the small bed, leaving me in darkness.

I sigh, my breathing slowing as I try and relax; keyword try.

I take my phone out from the confines of my back pocket and quickly text James. Hey, at nurse's office. Not feeling well again, come if you can.

I turn to the side nestling my phone against my chest hoping he replies soon. I don't think I can handle another break down alone.

••••••••••••••

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-Ash

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