I'm With Anxious Read online

  She tilts her head. “It helps you what?”

  “What?”

  She sighs. “The vape. How does it help you?”

  I know she’s the one who diagnosed my Oh my GAD, but I’m still embarrassed to say it out loud. “You know, with my anxiety. My emotions.” I pause and then mumble, “My Generalized Anxiety Disorder.”

  She waves her hand. “I know all that. But you do not need it. You need your emotions.”

  I snort. “Um, no I don’t. They’re horrible. They’re out of control. They suck and I hate them. And I hate who I am when I feel them. They’re my curse.”

  She grins ever so slightly. “You think they are a curse?”

  I raise both eyebrows. “Uh, yeah. The crappiest curse ever in the history of curses.”

  “Why not a gift?”

  My mouth drops open. Ms. Foofaraw has obviously lost her mind. A gift would imply something happy and fun and exciting to open. Like a soft sweater on Christmas morning. Anger and sadness and pain would be a gift you give to someone you hate.

  She tilts her head. “You do not see your emotions as a gift? Yes, they are strong, but to feel so strongly means you are living life to its fullest.” She grins like she just announced that I won a year supply of cheesy puffs. “And that is a beautiful gift.”

  I shake my head. “Nope. Totally disagree.”

  She frowns. “Really?”

  “Yep.”

  “And that is really how you feel?”

  “Not feel,” I correct her. “I know.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yes! Totally.”

  “And nothing will make you change your mind.”

  I laugh. “I will never change my mind. I hate my emotions. I hate feeling them. I hate who I am with them.”

  “You are sure?”

  “Yes!” I yell, and then frown at my own outburst. “See,” I whisper. “This is why I need to bury my feelings.”

  She purses her lips and closes the distance between us to stare into my eyes. She’s way too close for my comfort, but I don’t budge. Maybe this is some voodoo counseling stuff that will make me feel better so I play along. Her eyes are a muted green, and her black pupils look like a swirling galaxy of teeny white stars. They’re really beautiful for such a weirdo. So green. With all the black and white stars spinning and twirling. Around and around. It’s so mesmerizing.

  “Then it must be,” she whispers.

  I shake my head. That was weird. I lean back and regain my personal space.

  Ms. Foofaraw slips on her boots. “Okie dokie. Whether you return to school or not today, that choice is yours. Either way our time here is up.” She stands and winks at me. “I will be seeing you again very soon, Lottie.”

  And with that nifty promise hanging over my head, I watch her saunter around the lake house and out of sight.

  Okay. That was beyond weird. Her swirling galaxy eyes? And what was up with her tossing my vape in the lake? Doesn’t she know those things cost money?

  “Lottie?”

  Seriously! Can’t a girl skip school in peace?

  “Is that you, sweet girl?”

  And with that I know it’s my mama.

  “Hi,” I say without turning around, and that feels so lame after the day I’ve had. I want to run over and bury my face in her chest. I want to be three again so she can pick me up and swing me around until we both collapse with laughter and dizziness. I want her to make this all go away.

  She sits down close to me and wraps her arm around my waist. She’s wearing capris and a baseball cap and must have been running because she feels a little sweaty and she smells like her baby powder deodorant. But I don’t care. I snuggle into her. I need my mama.

  “You okay?” she asks.

  I snort. “I thought a goose was talking to me, so probably not.” I frown. “How did you find me?”

  “Your school called.”

  I suck in a breath. I’m totally dead meat.

  “What did they say?” I barely whisper. This is it. This is the cherry to top off my wonderful day. This is the end of my life.

  Mama shrugs. “That you didn’t show up for first period so they were wondering if you were sick.”

  Sick? Most definitely. I’m beyond sick. I’m a freak.

  She tucks my hair behind my ear. “I tried your cell, but you didn’t answer. I was worried so I tracked you here.” She’s trying to keep any feeling out of her voice, but her forehead is swollen with wrinkles and her eyes are red and puffy.

  Oh my god. What kind of girl makes her own mother cry? Exhaustion slaps me in the face and I sag into her. I’m too emotionally exhausted to even say I’m sorry.

  She wraps her other arm around me and kisses my forehead. “Want to talk about it?”

  I shake my head. “I just want to go home.”

  I feel her inhale like she’s going to say something, but she doesn’t. She must have known this day would come. The return of the freak with GAD. It’s been a while, but we’ve been through this before and she knows just what to do. And for that I’m so grateful.

  She doesn’t say anything about my soaked socks. She doesn’t say anything about my limp on the way to the car. She doesn’t say anything until she helps me into my bed. I think she knows I’ve slipped, but instead of scolding me, she just lies down next to me and wraps me in a strong hug.

  “It’s going to be okay, my sweet girl. I love you, and it’s going to be okay.”

  I picture a catfish taking a huge drag off my vape, and I allow the comforting darkness of sleep to wash over me.

  CHAPTER 6

  Back to reality

  When I finally wake up, it’s dark outside. I must have slept all day. I yawn, and bury myself deeper under my feather comforter, clutching my stuffed zebra so tight that my fingers start cramping.

  Slowly, the sweet amnesia of sleep fades away and memories crowd into bed with me. Seeing Dillon kiss that boy. Freaking out. Probably killing him.

  Crap.

  Or… could it all have been just a dream?

  A light illuminates the hallway and spills into my room. I hear voices coming up the stairs.

  “I have to!” Berg yells.

  Berg never yells.

  “Not right now,” Mama says.

  “But she promised!” Berg cries, and suddenly he’s in my room.

  He pauses for a second when he sees I’m in bed, but anger quickly overtakes the confusion on his face.

  “You promised me!” he yells. “You promised you’d be there, and you weren’t! You promised that you and Dillon would meet me at Treats, and you never showed up. I needed you!” His voice cracks. “I needed you,” he whimpers, “and you never showed up.”

  What? God, no. I hurt Berg, too?

  Tears stream down his baby face, and now he doesn’t look grown-up at all. He looks hurt and angry, and I long to hug him.

  “I needed you,” he repeats softly. “I needed you, and you weren’t there for me, and now she hates me.” He narrows his eyes, swipes his tears, and crumples his dimples into thick lines as anger consumes his face. “And I hate you!” he screams, and storms out of the room.

  I feel like I’ve been punched in the stomach. Berg has never yelled at me before. Never.

  Oh god. What did I do?

  Mama pauses in the doorway. I wait for her to say something to make me feel better like she always does, but instead she just sighs.

  “Lotus,” she starts.

  And I immediately panic. She only uses my full name when I’m in trouble.

  “Dillon is…” Her voice cracks.

  Oh god, no. Please don’t say Dillon is dead. Please don’t say Dillon is dead. No. No. No. I think I’m going to puke.

  “Dillon was hurt today.”

  “Oh thank god!”

  She takes a step into my room, a look of confusion on her face. “What did you say?”

  Crap! Double crap!

  “I meant, oh thank god he wasn’t hurt bad. I mean,
he wasn’t, was he?”

  My mama’s eyes narrow. “From the little I’ve heard, he’s hurt pretty bad.”

  Crap. Crap. Crap. My heart is racing. I hope she can’t see the sweat pouring down my face.

  “Um, how bad? Like will he be healed in time for prom?”

  What? Why did I ask that? I could care less about that now. I just want to know how bad I really hurt him.

  How bad I really am.

  Mama shakes her head. “Really, Lotus. I know you think you’ve had a bad day, so you’ve shut everyone else out, but sometimes I wish you would think about someone other than yourself.” And without another word, she leaves.

  I’m stunned. I think I had a bad day?

  I think?!

  I KNOW I’ve had a bad day! No one else in the entire world has EVER had a day as bad as mine! First of all, Dillon dumps me for a boy! A BOY! Then I completely freak out after 18 MONTHS AND FOUR DAYS of excruciatingly hard work trying NOT to ever freak out again! And THEN my brother YELLS AT ME, AND MY OWN MOTHER TELLS ME I’M SELFISH!!

  YES, I’VE HAD A BAD DAY!

  I sniffle. I expect tears, but something else boils up instead. Something red, and hot, and torrid.

  It’s anger. Again.

  And it grows, like the heat from a fire when you keep your hand there too long. At first you can stand the warmth, but then it gets hotter, and hotter, and hotter, until you either shriek out in pain as it engulfs you or wrench your hand away to escape it.

  And I can’t escape it.

  I HATE Mama for being mad at me! And I HATE Berg for yelling at me! And I DOUBLE HATE Dillon for not loving me! I HATE THEM ALL! HATE! HATE! HATE!

  My heart races. Swirls of red and black and white cloud my vision, and I grab the closest thing I can find and channel all my rage into hurling it across the room.

  Time slows as I watch my cell phone fly across the room and crash onto my desk. The shattering of glass is like a soft purr to my anger, and I smirk at my destructiveness.

  Until I realize what I just did.

  I broke the glass heart my great-grandfather lovingly crafted for my great-grandmother. I broke it. Into hundreds of shattered and un-fixable pieces.

  Just like me. Shattered. And un-fixable.

  I’m awful.

  I hate letting my feelings overpower me, because when they do, I hurt people. I mean, what kind of person calls the sweetest boy on earth a flaming queen? And who doesn’t keep a promise to her brother because she’s so caught up in her own problems?

  I’ll tell you who.

  Me.

  The freak.

  I hate myself for breaking that precious heart. I hate myself for getting angry. I hate every single atom in my being that makes me the freak with Oh my GAD. I hate the sour taste in my mouth. And the churning in my stomach. And the pounding in my head.

  I hate who I am.

  I will bury these awful emotions so incredibly deep that they will disappear forever, and I won’t ever have to be me again. The freak will be gone. Forever. I will inhale happiness and bury every last bit of pain and anger and sadness… even if it kills me.

  I gaze out the window into the night. The stars are blinking and iridescent in the blackness, but all I can think about is how their light is tainted and sad because I know they are the remains of lives burned out millions of years ago. I inhale the deepest breath I’ve ever taken in my entire life, and I hold it. I will always remember today and how it felt to be in such pain. And that will remind me to never, ever feel it again.

  I curl up into a little ball, close my eyes, and wish myself far, far away from today.

  CHAPTER 7

  Now this is much better

  I groan. I don’t feel so good. In fact, I feel like that time I ate four cream-filled donuts in five minutes, and then promptly threw up.

  “Are you ready?” someone asks from the other room.

  Ugh. Berg must be watching TV. And it’s so loud! I almost yell at him to turn it down, but then I remember he’s super angry at me, so I don’t. I feel around for my pillow to help drown out the sound.

  “Aicha, what are you doing? Mum will be home soon, and you know I’m not supposed to be wearing this yet.”

  Mum? What the heck is Berg watching? And where is my dang pillow?

  Someone pinches my arm.

  “Ouch!” I cry out.

  I try to open my eyes, but they’re so heavy I can’t. I reach up, pry them open with my fingers, and immediately wish I hadn’t. A hazy wheel of vibrant colors spins around and around in front of me. I can’t focus on any one color, or any one thing. It’s like I’m inside a whirling, rainbow tornado. My stomach lurches so I quickly snap my eyes closed. I am not going to throw up. I am not going to throw up.

  Inhale. Exhale. Inhale happy. Exhale icky.

  It takes me a few more seconds, but I finally get my stomach to settle down and I open my eyes. This time the bedroom is in focus.

  But it’s not my bedroom.

  I’m sitting on some kind of fat beanbag next to an opulent bed drowning in orange and purple pillows and covered with a pink, wispy veil. The walls are painted a bright teal blue. The ceiling is covered in ornate metallic tiles, and red and purple bejeweled lanterns hang under arched doorways in every corner. There’s only one explanation. I’ve obviously stumbled into the magical lair of a rainbow unicorn.

  I notice a woman standing in the corner frowning at me. She looks dressed for some kind of party. Maybe prom? Is it time for prom already? How long have I been sleeping?

  I look closer. She’s older than me, and her dress looks too fancy for prom, so maybe she’s going to a ball? Her dress could be a ball gown. It’s long and flowing and looks like green velvet. The sleeves and skirt are embellished with swirls of golden lace, and fat pearl buttons define a perfect line from her neck to her toes.

  “Well, what do you think?” she asks, twirling around, her long dark hair rippling out behind her.

  I think she looks like a princess going to a ball.

  “Isn’t it the most stunning kaftan you’ve ever seen?” she asks.

  She glances back at me, and when she smiles wide, I gasp. A huge dimple creases her cheek and makes her look a little like my brother, Berg.

  I shake my head. “You’re not my brother.”

  I clamp my hand over my mouth. And that was not my voice!

  The woman sighs, puts her hands on her hips and pouts. “Aicha, quit playing. You begged me to try it on, and then you talk nonsense. Do you like it or not?”

  I don’t know who Aicha is or why she’s talking nonsense, but the woman seems to want an answer from me and I do like her dress, so I nod.

  She claps her hands and grins. “I knew you would! Oh, this is going to be so wonderful!” She bounces over and throws her arms around me in a hug. I don’t want to be rude, so I hug her back. She smells of roses and mint, and that makes me smile.

  She straightens up and arches one perfectly sculpted black eyebrow. “Now I better take this off and put it away before Mum comes home.” And before I can ask her who the heck she is and where the heck I am, she bustles through one of the arched doorways and disappears.

  Maybe she’s my fairy godmother. I loved reading fairytales when I was a little girl. Bad things would happen and then a fairy godmother would always appear to save the day. I definitely had a bad day today. Surely, I earned a fairy godmother visit?

  But, where am I? And why is she calling me Aicha? Every nerve in my body tells me to flee. To run away from this unfamiliar place and go back home. But something in my heart tells me to stay, because for some strange reason I feel like I belong here.

  So, I stay.

  On my pouf.

  Yes! This isn’t a beanbag. It’s a pouf. Pouf. That’s a fun word.

  “Pouf.” I repeat it three times fast. “Pouf! Pouf! Pouf!” I giggle and feel happy. Which is completely opposite of how I felt when I fell asleep.

  That’s it! I’m asleep and I’m dreaming. Ab
out fairy godmothers and poufs.

  Awesome! I’d much rather be here than at home with all the deep doo doo happening there. I smile, close my eyes, and snuggle into my pouf. This is my dream, where I can be happy again, and I’m going to enjoy every delicious second.

  “What are you saying about a dream?”

  I open my eyes to see my fairy godmother standing a few feet away. She must have slipped back into the room while I had my eyes closed. She’s traded her fancy, ball gown for a white, blousy top and a pale-gray, gauzy skirt that reached her knees. Very chic.

  “So what are you saying about a dream?” she asks again.

  My cheeks feel hot. I’m so embarrassed. She must think I’m an idiot talking to myself and… wait a minute. This is my dream. It doesn’t matter what I say. I’m in control. I’m the star here. I don’t have to be embarrassed!

  I grin at her. “I like this dream.”

  She laughs. “I know! It’s finally here. My dream wedding.”

  Wedding? My fairy godmother is getting married? I clap my hands together. This dream is awesome!

  Fairy G walks over to three low tables on the other side of the room. The tables are surrounded by plump pillows covered in the same purple and gold tapestry print as the bed. She plops down on a pillow and motions for me to join her.

  “Come on then, let’s have tea.”

  I shrug. “Okay.”

  My tan, gauzy skirt tickles my legs as I walk across the room. I glance down and notice that my blouse is blue. I grin. Of course, I’m wearing my favorite color in my dream.

  Since the tables are only about a foot off the floor, I feel like I’m in a remake of some Arabian movie as I tuck my skirt around my legs and sit down on a pillow next to my Fairy G.

  “I can’t believe my wedding is finally here,” she sighs. She picks up a silver pot with squatty legs and a long, tapered spout and pours tea into a red, frosted glass rimmed in gold. “I know we’re ten years apart and you’re only fifteen, but I’m so happy that after all these months of preparations and all the waiting, that you’re going to be standing right beside me during it all.” She smiles and hands me the glass.