Sick Day: Angie

*Warning: Drug Use*

I feel naked ruffling my curls. I haven't had my hair this short since I was a kid, but it still feels right. Feels like the new me.

I pull up my black hoodie and lay on the sofa, stretching out my legs. I blow smoke, recalling how some random girl from math class snickered my way. I told myself that I was imagining it, that I was letting things get to my head.

When she passed her phone around and others started staring, I got out of my seat. She practically let me snatch it away. They laughed as I watched a video of Dan and I soaking wet in his backseat. It had been edited with the word slut branded across in bright red letters.

Some of them mouthed the word at me. I sat at my desk, burring my head in the sand. I don't know how I kept myself together, my heart was so faint. It was the last class for the day, and when the bell rang, I hid inside of a bathroom stall. I had another panic attack.

My jaw tightens as anger swells inside me. I wipe away a tear when Sam comes over. Her green eyes are glossy beneath her blonde bangs. She hands me a soda that I set down untouched. I won't ever drink something that I haven't seen get poured.

She makes small talk, but I can't hear her over the live music playing. When she gets tired of repeating herself, she just points a thumb upstairs. Heading up the steps, she leaves me to my thoughts.

The dark room is smoky. It smells like a mixture of alcohol, cigarettes, and marijuana. Normally this would nauseate me, but tonight I don't care.

This place is hardly ever crowded. About twenty or so people hang here, playing music and staying to themselves, like me.

I focus on the current sax and drum duo, hanging onto their every note. Tears stream from the corner of my eyes. I let them this time, surrendering to my emotions.