The annoying buzz of the alarm clock wakes me. I lay in bed for a minute, not sure if I should try and face the day or crawl back into the beckoning land of sleep.
“Good morning!” Mom comes in, with a bowl of cereal. “Ninth grade, can you believe it? I remember when I was sending you off to kindergarten!”
“I’m not sure if I can either.” I halfheartedly say.
“Well, I have a feeling it’s going to be a great year.” She smiles, and leaves my room, always forgetting to close my door.
Ha, great year. I doubt it. It’ll be like every other year, the slowness, the immaturity, the awkwardness.
I put the bowl aside and that feeling of dread came over me. I wasn’t surprised; I knew it was going to come. It always did, every morning.
Keep your head low, Hilary.
*Don’t want anyone to see your face. No one wants to see it anyway.*

I feel so lost in the sea of students the second I step foot into the school. I knew I was the plankton, the rest sharks, fighting over who gets to pick me apart first.
I look for room 294, my homeroom. Clenching my backpack, I begin the climb up the stairs. People are pushing each other around, a race for who can get to the top first. I see those girls, the catalysts for the whole drama of school. I could’ve sworn one of them looked over at me. They giggled and murmured like 7 year olds.
*They’re talking about you. You’re such an easy target. You’re their favorite topic.*
I still trudge forward on my quest to find homeroom. Exasperated already, I feel my heart race. I’m not going to make it to homeroom, I’m going to get detention the first day of high school, and I’ll look like such a dumbass.
I look around, in hopes to see a familiar face, a friend, someone. But no.
237, where the hell am I?
My palms are sweating, and my heart is still beating a thousand times a minute. I feel dizzy, and feel a lump in my throat. Not now, Hilary. You’re doing the wrong thing.
My heart slows a bit when I see 289, I must be getting close. Yes, 294. I push through the door, and keep my head down, as I planned. I sit in the back of the room.
*Can’t you feel their eyes? You know they’re looking at you. They love seeing you, you little f-up.*
I look up slightly. No friends. Strangers, really. The teacher is too busy perfecting her makeup to even notice us. But I’m the unnoticeable one. Yet, still the prime focus of everyone else.
I lay back in my seat a little, feeling awkward. I hear everyone else talking to each other; of course they have their friends. I stare at my desk the whole time. The teacher passes around a general slip, you know, the one with the emergency phone numbers and all that crap. I take one hand and place it on it. I feel a tingle in the back of my head, and quickly place the other hand on the slip also.

Jocelyn’s bathroom is pretty clean, smelling of strong detergent and cheap shampoo, but I don’t know, something about it seems off. Well, Jocelyn is off. Not like I’m not either.
Everything is really neat in it. All of her toothbrushes, toothpaste, hair brushes are lined up in an orderly fashion; not one thing is out of place. I don’t want to touch anything because it’s so tidy.
I open up the shower door, and peer inside. It’s as clean and neat as everything else (no surprise). I have no idea how to work these showers, but I guess it isn’t rocket science to turn a knob or something. I pull my clothes off quickly and stare at myself in the mirror.
Wow, you’re so f*ing fat. Would it kill you to exercise a little, fatass?
I turn away and start pulling a knob that has a red dot in the middle of it. Water flows out, spraying me with scorching rain. I let out a small yelp, and jump back. I quickly pull the blue knob, and soon the water becomes bearable. Sighing, I step in with my shampoo and start to shower.

Walking back into my room, I find Sarah staring out the window with its prison-like iron bars. I don’t know if I should try to start a conversation with her or not, so I silently slink to my bed. Sarah glances over at me, and I can tell that she isn’t the same person I just met in the dining room. She kind of has that thousand-yard stare soldiers have after returning home from war; no expression, but in visible pain. It seems that her face has been plastered into that expression, and it makes me feel uncomfortable. She is staring at me, but more like through me, as if trying to look at the wall behind me. I try to smile at her and force myself to close my eyes, and I eventually fall into a restless sleep.

If you ask anyone, people will say that they’ve had certain nightmares that they have remembered their entire life. I’ve had too many of those, and they all lead back to that damn party. That’s what I dreamt about last night. Watching myself throw up, kiss Ben, and ruin Hannah’s night and our friendship. I shouldn’t have been so stupid as to have let Hannah convince me that I’m popular. Everyone still hated me, maybe even more now. I’m so done with that nightmare, but the worst part is knowing that I’ll never forget it.

Before I know it, I see a small woman on our wall (there aren’t doors in our room) and she gently tells us it’s time to get up. I get up silently and see Sarah still asleep. The woman eventually speaks louder, and finally rouses Sarah awake. I leave the room.
I look down the hallway and see everyone lined up near the door. There I see that guy Keith, and he is talking to Tara. Jesus, she’s already talking a mile a minute. I look away and watch Sarah groggily towards me. I turn around and watch Keith try to pry Tara off of him. It was a little humorous, actually. Before I know it, it’s my turn to face Keith.
“Hi, Hilary.” It’s weird he remembers my name. He saw me for probably 30 seconds at the most yesterday.
I nod. Keith turns down and looks at a paper he’s holding on a clipboard. “So, uh, Hilary, how’d you sleep last night?”
“Good.” I lie.
“Great to hear, look I know you and Sarah are the newbies here, so why don’t you both listen to me at the same time?” Sarah steps next to me. “Great. Well, every morning before any other things, you have to come in and check with us. We’ll just ask a few questions about how you’re doing, mentally and physically. And you gotta be 100% honest, no matter how awkward or embarrassing the subject is, okay?”
“Sure.” Sarah smiles. Wow, she can change her outward expressions in a millisecond. Now she’s back to the girl I met in the dining room. “Thanks for letting us know, I didn’t really get why we were just standing here.”
“OK, good. I’m glad that the confusion is settled,” Keith laughs. Sarah and I awkwardly try to laugh. “Alright Hilary, let’s get down to business,” He clicks his pen and starts writing down things in his notes. I guess they’re notes.
I bet he’s writing about how f*ed up you are, you attention whore. He could write a whole f*ing novel about your problems. You’re such a loser.

Keith drills me with questions and he’s right, they are awkward. He asked me about my “feelings”, if I’ve been eating, if I’m feeling suicidal, he even asked me if I’ve taken a s*** in the past 24 hours. I barely was audible with that question, especially since Ollie had walked onto the line.
After 20 Questions starring Hilary Wills was over, I entered the rec-room where Tara and Madison were sitting.
“Hey Hilary. What’s up?” Madison asks.
“Just got asked about a billion questions.”
“Oh yeah, that,” Tara squeaks, “I hate that.”
“Yeah, did you “make the magic”?” Madison laughs.
“Oh, God. What’s even the point of that?” I ask.
“Who knows? The people here watch you like a hawk and need to know every detail about you. It’s stupid.” Madison shakes her head.
I look outside the glass door and see Sarah chatting with Keith. Ollie is talking with her too, which gives me a twinge of jealousy. I don’t know why, since I haven’t even talked to him, I get jealous when other girls talk to Ollie. Yeah, he’s hot, but I bet you he hasn’t even thought about me once.
The small woman who woke me up this morning walks into the rec-room with a pile of paper in her hand.
“OK guys, order lunch, we’ll have it ready at 12.”
I raise an eyebrow to Madison, and she explains what she’s talking about.
“So you circle what you want, food, drinks, whatever, and then you give ‘em to the hawks.” Madison seems to hate the nurses.
“Oh, ok. Thanks. Is anything edible here?” I frown at the list of food.
“I don’t know. My dinner last night sucked, so I doubt lunch will be any better. This is my first time ordering lunch, too.”
I “hmm” and circle something that seemed halfway decent: caesar salad, but no dressing. How could they f*** up salad?
I zone out for a while, staring at the pale blue walls. Sarah and Madison are talking I think, and I hear Tara squeaking to one of the boys. I’m not really up to engaging in petty conversation, especially with Sarah around. She seems fake and I don’t feel like I could trust her. She’s the opposite of what I am; she’s bubbly, laughing, and seems to be the center of attention. So I sit back in my uncomfortable chair and stare at the wall some more. I notice someone walking towards me; oh jeez, it’s Tara. This girl is so full of energy.
“Hey! What’s wrong? Why aren’t you talking?”
I don’t know how to respond, and I sure as hell am not going to tell the truth, so I lie, “Oh, just tired, that’s all. I wouldn’t want to bring down everyone.” Technically, I’m only half-lying, since I don’t want to bring down everyone else with my social awkwardness.
“Oh, that sucks. Well, you won’t bring me down!” Of course not, I don’t think anything could. “Seen any cute boys?” Of course she’d ask something like this. I don’t trust Tara to keep a secret, so I just shrug.
“Oh, come on! I can tell you’re lying. Tell me who you think is the hottest.”
My cheeks burn, but much to my pleasant surprise I see the small woman come in again. “Breakfast is ready. And eat quickly, because today is consultation day and then we’ll hand out medication.” Everyone groans, but I’m grateful to have been interrupted in Tara and I’s conversation. Hoping she won’t talk about boys again, I ask Tara what consultation day is.
“You know, I don’t know why they make it sound so special, because consultation day is every day. You talk to Dr. Sena and stuff and he’ll decide if you need medicine adjustments and all that crap.” For once, Tara’s cheerful face is distorted with a frown.
“Oh.” I don’t know what else to say so I get up and follow everyone to breakfast.

The hospital set up some buffet-type stand in the dining room.
“You pick what you want. We have a lot of different choices.” Keith appears out of nowhere beside me.
“Ok, thanks.” I murmur, and pick up a plastic plate.
Sarah and Madison are talking away with each other, and I’m starting to get pissed off. How can she do that? How can she talk to people with such ease? Why can’t I do that?
Because you’re a loser, that’s why. A stupid, f*ed-up loser that no one likes. What did you think the reason was that no one was talking to you?
I barely put anything on my plate, just a mushed orange and a scoop of dry cheerios. Madison and Sarah are sitting together, but I really don’t feel compelled to join them. So instead I sit at an empty table, not bothering to start eating. Tara is finished setting her plate, filled to the brim with food. She looks over at me and motions to come sit with her, Sarah, and Madison. I don’t want to look like too much of an antisocial loner, so I reluctantly walk over.
“Hey Hilary. Be prepared for a sick breakfast. You too, Sarah.” Tara giggles.
“Oh yeah, I’ve prepared my entire life for this moment.” Sarah quips.
Tara and Madison laugh, so I try to join. Even with that one little remark, I start to feel more and more rage towards Sarah. I think she reminds me too much of Hannah. Except for all the scene kid stuff. Anything that resembles Hannah makes me squirm. I’m so done with her.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Jocelyn walk in; eyes bloodshot and hair mangled. She doesn’t even bother going to the food, and sits down at our table.
“Hi Jocelyn!” Tara needs a tranquilizer or something.
Jocelyn nods, and puts her head down. One of the aides asks why she doesn’t have a plate, and she just shrugs.
“You have to eat, Jocelyn,” the woman frowns.
Jocelyn shrugs again. Once again, I find myself mesmorized by all the scars on her arms. I attempt to make it subtle, but it’s kind of hard to do. The aide brings Jocelyn a plate of food, and I force myself to turn my gaze to something else; Ollie. He is so beautiful, but not in one of those pretty boy ways, just it seems like he isn’t possibly real. He’s talking to the other boys, and they’re laughing and playfully punching each other in the arm. I feel a small grin unfold onto my face when I see Ollie’s dimples when he’s laughing. I wish I had the balls to talk to him, but I don’t.
“Hilary, you ok?” Madison looks at me with a slight amount of worry on her face.