The doctor didn't believe me. I could tell by the smile of amusement and the glimmer of patience that lit in her hazel eyes. That could only mean that she was just going to brush over my words as the symptoms of teenage angst. "Why would you think that?" she asked with a voice that could soothe a wailing baby. Was she patronizing me?

"Because no one's been able to see my handwriting since last month." I glared at my feet when my eyes began to sting. "You're a doctor, surely you must know something?" I pleaded, wiping my eyes before looking back to her steady gaze.

"I'm sorry, but I don't know what you mean. The idea of no one being able to see your handwriting except you, that's not possible. Have you been having any bad dreams lately? Are you sure that you aren't taking anything?"

My fists tightened at my sides. "I know what I saw. I know that it's hard to believe, but I've been living like this for an entire month! My grades are steadily dropping to C's when I had all A's! I can't... I can't live like this, never able to express my feelings with my own handwriting! Aren't there any pills to take? I don't want to eat words anymore! This endless amount of knowledge that I've gained... it's pointless if I couldn't learn it with my own power."

I knew this was pointless. Letting my frustrations out on my doctor... that wasn't right. But I just couldn't let my feelings build up like this. I reached up to wipe my moist nose with shivering hands.

"I've been forcing myself to eat the food that I used to love eating only to have it burn my throat and fall from my grasp. I only eat because of my parents, because I know that they'll worry. I have to deal with the agonizing truth of never being able to eat food again and you're just treating me like some insignificant annoyance!" I took deep breaths and lowered my rising voice to a desperate whisper. "Just... please, do something. I just want to be normal. I don't want to eat words."

It was a long moment of muffled cries and sniffles before she sighed. "How long has this been happening?"

"I just said since last month."

"Well Ziva, have you been hearing any voices recently?"

"No... I haven't. Why?"

"No reason." She grabbed a pen and made it scribble a slur of words in her notebook before closing it in a swift movement. How envious I was of her hands that could write so freely on paper. "So you say that this phenomenon started in January? Do you remember the exact day?"

I nodded and sighed, clearing my mind of any anger that had riled up in me before. "It was the 13th, ma'am."

"Hmm... have you been getting enough sleep lately?" She looked skeptical. I couldn't blame her; who wouldn't be in this situation?

"I have." At least, I did before this fiasco started. If only there were some clues that I could find on the internet. Alas, nothing was found and I simply began to lose hope.

"Maybe you aren't getting as much as you should. If you lose too much sleep, you'll start to hallucinate. That seems to be the probl-"

"That is not the problem, ma'am. These aren't hallucinations, I'm not binge eating, I'm not anorexic and I'm not crazy." I huffed, crossing my legs. "I just want to know what is going on with my body. Is this some new type of disease? I can give you proof, if you want."

Her eyebrows arched up. "I'd like to see that very much."

Before I could respond, the door bursted open with Mom entering from the other side. "Sorry hun, I had a call from a customer."

I averted my eyes from the doctor's in nervousness. "It's fine, Mom."

"So, Doctor Cruz. what were you about to say?"

I could tell that she was watching me, hoping for a reaction. I pretended to be oblivious while simultaneously pleading with my eyes.

"Well, she just needs some rest and she'll be fine."

Mom sighed with relief before turning to me and yet again nearly strangling my small frame with her unbelievable amount of strength. Or maybe I was simply weak from exhaustion and hunger, who knows. "Ooh, that's wonderful isn't it Ziv? You're alright!"

"Yes, it is." I said, mumbling into the fabric of her thick green sweater.

I stood after she let me go, brushing my pants off for any invisible dust. The woman then handed Mom the 'nutrients' that I apparently needed and had her sign some papers before she took my hand and bid the strange lady farewell.

While walking down the hallway, I remembered something and halted. "I have to ask Doctor Cruz a question. I'll be right back, I promise!"

Mom nodded and I left her behind to slowly trail after me in rushed steps. Luckily the door was still open and I peeked inside. "Doctor Cruz?"

She was sitting at her desktop again when she looked at me, bewildered. "Yes?"

"Can you possibly not tell my parents about this...? I don't want to worry them."

"Of course; a patient's information is always confidential."

Relieved, I nodded. "Thank you! Please tell me if you find anything!"

"Will do." She gave a warm smile, then reached for something on her desk. "Here, take this. If your problem gets... out of hand, call me."

I took the card, examining it.

B. P. A. - Scouting Representative
Dr. Barbra Cruz

Underneath her name was a telephone and fax number in gold font. I looked back to her and said, "Thank you," before closing the door and returning to my Mom's side.

xx

The wooden tiles under my feet fascinated me for some reason. The intricate patterns and shapes carved into the floor by bad children were like miniature murals that one wouldn't notice if they didn't gaze at the floor for long periods of time. I occasionally did out of boredom. I had been roaming around the halls after my trip to the lavatory because I didn't want to be bothered learning things that I had already thoroughly studied on my own. I wasn't cutting-- I was exploring.

My eyes suddenly pounded, covering my vision in a flurry of green and purple spots. Was I dehydrated? I shook the feeling off and headed back to my next class, Art, when the bell rang.

I walked into the long room that echoed the laughter and murmurs of excitement for the only class that didn't offer punishments of homework on the weekends.

"Good morning, Mister Abington." I said once the bald mid-thirties art teacher came into my sight. He was talking about how Vincent Van Gogh cut off his ear with a dark skinned student who I remembered was named Diana.

"Mornin' Ziv, how're you doing?" He smiled happily, as he did whenever someone walked up to him. The girl with braided hair had already left with her curiosity satisfied when I sparked a conversation with him.

He was a naturally jolly person; so much so that I wondered why he chose to work in a school with an abundant number of obnoxious hormonal children. Of course, I never voiced my thoughts, only letting it drift swiftly in the wind just as my words had.

"Good for the most part, how're you?" I muttered while reminiscing on my dull meeting with Doctor Cruz.

"Doing awesome. My boyfriend proposed to me yesterday!" It was then that I noticed the peculiar band on his ring finger. It was eye catching, and I was vaguely of the when he mentioned his l... lover. The area felt unfamiliar, so I tended to stay away from those types of subjects.

I smiled, genuinely proud of his progress despite my lack of knowledge with the topic. Sometimes we spoke of life together while acknowledging the difference in our status as student and teacher. Mister Abington was probably the teacher that knew me the best. Occasionally he would speak of his boyfriend- well now fiance- when I came here for lunch to avoid the ruckus. "Well, congratulations."

"I know, right?! He's a great guy, and I really love him." His eyes were brimming with more happiness than usual, as if his life was complete.

I chuckled lightly at his enthusiasm. "That's good." Though, gay marriage wasn't legal in this small town, so I guess they'd have to register somewhere else.

He sighed in relief and averted his eyes with a smile. "Yeah. It is."

Nodding in agreeance, I headed back to my seat as the rest of the students came in. I wondered what would happen if I had told him about my problem. He was creative, so maybe he would know something. But it didn't make sense to tell my teacher before my parents.

Would they even believe me, I wondered. Mom was normally a realist, always telling me that I should think well before taking action. Dad might believe me though. He was always attracted to fantasy stories. But this wasn't a fantasy, it was real and it was slowly beginning to take over my life. I trudged to my seat in deep thought when Mister Abington called our attention.

"Alright," Mr. Abington said after reverting back to his professional self, "I want everyone to grab a partner- we're going to do portraits."

Students instantly stood from their chairs to find their friends or acquaintances. I glanced to my left and sighed. Unfortunately Abigail was absent and Sophie didn't have art this period, so I was stuck to work on my own. If Abigail wasn't here then there would be an odd number of students-- and who would want to work with the albino girl who read books that they weren't interested in?

Whenever I asked anyone to work with me, they all evaded my question or had already found someone. It was inevitable; most of the students were either indifferent of my presence or followers of Kyle that agreed with everything he said in hopes of climbing the invisible hierarchy that they thought existed within this school.

With no luck in finding a nearby mirror, I had no other choice but to ask the teacher for assistance as the students shuffled around the class the latch onto their peers. Knowing that no one else would voluntarily want to be my partner, I reluctantly raised my hand for the teacher to see. He soon noticed and headed in my direction in curiousity.

"What's up?"

Wondering if I was making a mistake by calling him over, I stated the obvious. Regardless of my visible pessimism, Mister Abington was just as patient.

"Well," his eyes roamed the classroom until he beckoned for the person that caught his attention to come here, "You can work with him, alright?"

I turned around, surprised by who was behind me. Out of all of the people who were here, why would Kyle not have one? Was this some twisted turn of fate?

I glanced back at the teacher just as my stomach turned, making me wince. "There's no one else?"

He looked perplexed by my words. "I thought you and Kyle got along? Is there a problem that I don't know about?"

I looked down at my stomach and shook my head. "... Nothing to worry about." I could at least tolerate him for this. Besides, now was the best time to hand him the food that I brought from home.

"Alright! The art utensils and paper are on that table over there. This project will last a maximum of three days, so make sure that you guys do a lot today."

When I nodded, Mister Abington turned around and began to observe his other students with a rather satisfied expression on his face.

Kyle on the other hand seemed troubled. I was going to ask what was wrong but before I could he walked towards the empty seat next to where my bag and coat laid in frustration and sat down.

"Is something the matter?" I asked him with slight hesitancy when I settled into my chair, moving it a few centimeters away.

"No. It's nothing." He appeared to be in deep thought, his eyes resting on the black rectangular tables that had our art supplies spread on top. Maybe he was bothered by my presence.

Smiling bitterly at the thought, I sighed. "I'm sorry that you're partnered with me. I can work by myself if you want."

A laugh sounded from his parted lips when he looked at me and smirked. "Don't be stupid. How were you going to do a self-portrait on your own? Take a selfie? Oh wait-- you don't have a phone."

He knew that I hated being called stupid because we both knew that I was far from that. I couldn't remember if I had a phone or not anyways. Rather, I was old fashioned and preferred the flip phones that no one spoke of anymore.

Nevertheless, my cheeks had begun to warm from embarrassment when I averted my eyes from him. I looked at the hands that rested in my lap and muttered, "Don't call me stupid, jerk." It was already enough that he didn't understand what albinism was; I didn't need anymore problems.

"Fine, you aren't stupid. Now stop whining before I get mad!" He sounded exhausted, as if simply talking to me wore him out.

I was puzzled and looked up. Wasn't he already mad...? Still, I ceased my 'whining' and took the pencil and notepad that were within my reach. "Alright. How're we going to do this anyways? Do you want me to sketch you first?"

He tilted his head in confusion, his brown hair parting to the side to reveal his brown eyes. "I thought we were supposed to draw each other at the same time?"

"That seems more difficult because we'd both keep moving our heads." Besides, I didn't even know if I could draw. "But if you want to we-"

Kyle shook his head. "No, I'll draw you first. It's easy because I don't need to do a lot of shading." A child chuckled behind him.

Ignoring his comment, I looked away and set my eyes on my words. They were still above me, waiting for what I guessed to be my permission to enter my mouth. As much as I didn't want to eat words, I still needed to. I couldn't just voluntarily starve myself.

So I gulped, placed the notebook on the table, opened my mouth and ate Pluto, the planet that we had discussed in science class yesterday. Given the size of the 'planet,' I didn't expect it to be filling; yet the vague information that rested in documents and history sated my hunger for a moment. I sighed in relief, glad that the sharp pain was finally gone.

"You look like you feel better." Kyle smirked when he rested his head on his folded hands.

I gasped, suddenly aware of my situation. "Pardon?" Curses, I hadn't meant to let my feelings show that easily.

"What, deaf now?"

Biting my lip, I shook my head. "I heard you, Kyle. But yes, I do feel better." How'd he know I wasn't feeling well? Ah, I did cry in front of him that day... but I figured he didn't notice.

Flipping my white hair over my shoulders, I straightened my posture and posed. "Now then, let's get this over with."

He held up his notebook with brimming confidence. "Certainly."