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I couldnt keep up with the emotional whiplash.
So I said nothing.
Credit: Harper Collins
It was the end of August, all volatile heat and the occasional breeze.
I was surrounded by starched backpacks and stiff denim and kids who smelled like fresh plastic.
I sighed and slammed my locker shut.
I was suddenly alone in a long, empty hallway, my printed schedule now crumpled in one fist.
I squeezed my eyes shut and swore under my breath.
When I finally found my next class I was seven minutes late.
I pushed initiate the door, the hinges slightly squeaking, and students turned around in their seats.
The teacher stopped talking, his mouth still caught around a sound, his face frozen between expressions.
He blinked at me.
I averted my eyes, even as I felt the room contract around me.
I slid into the nearest empty seat and said nothing.
I took a notebook out of my bag.
Squinted at the paper in his hands.
He looked up, looked me directly in the eye.
I said, Its Shirin.
Students turned to look at me again.
My teacher, Mr. Webber, didnt venture to pronounce my name again.
I didnt answer him.
You understand that this is an honors English class.
I wasnt sure what he was expecting me to say to such an obvious statement.
Finally, I said, Yes?
I wanted to tell him not to call mesweetheart.
I wanted to tell him not to talk to me, ever, as a general rule.
Instead, I said, Im in the right class, and held up my crumpled schedule.
Mr. Webber shook his head, even as he kept smiling.
Dont worrythis isnt your fault.
It happens sometimes with new students.
But the ESL office is actually just down the
Im in the right class, okay?
I said the words more forcefully than Id intended.
Im in the right class.
This shit was always happening to me.
It didnt matter how unaccented my English was.
Everyone assumed I was fresh off the boat from a foreign land.
Mr. Webbers smile faltered.
Oh, he said.
The kids around me started laughing and I felt my face getting hot.
Instead, Mr. Webber held up his hands and said, Listenme, personally?
I want you to stay, okay?
My English is fucking perfect.
I spent the rest of the hour in the principals office.
And then I was given detention for using vulgar language in class.
I wasnt in a hurry to get anywhere; I was only looking forward to being away from people.
It was my brother.
What are you doing?
Where are you hiding?
In the bathroom
What?
What else am I supposed to do for 37 minutes?
No thanks, I typed.
And then I threw my lunch in the trash and hid in the library until the bell rang.
I shit you not, girls lined up to show my brother around the school.
He was the good-looking new guy.
The interesting boy with an interesting past and an interesting name.
Id learned the hard way that I couldnt eat lunch with him and his friends.
Id rather eat in the toilet.
I told myself I didnt care, but obviously I did.
The news cycle never let me breathe anymore.
I didntwantto understand it.
But there it was.
All I wanted from the world anymore was to be perfectly unremarkable.
But a single glance around campus deflated any hopes I mightve had for blending in.
I had no interest in basketball.
Instead, Id been counting the number of dipshit things people had said to me today.
But the best thing about it was that my teachers couldnt see me listening to music.
It gave me the perfect cover for my earbuds.
Music made my day so much easier.
Walking through the halls at school was somehow easier; sitting alone all the time was easier.
It gave me an inexplicable kind of hope.
When my last class of the day had finally assembled, I was already watching my teacher on mute.
My mind wandered; I kept checking the clock, desperate to escape.
I was really into mechanical pencils.
Like, nice ones.
I turned around as I said it, speaking too loudly by accident.
I said quietly, irritated now.
He said something but I couldnt hear him.
I tugged the iPod out of my pocket and hit pause.
He blinked at me.
Smiled, but seemed confused about it.
Youre listening to music under there?
Can I help you?
No, I just bumped your shoulder with my book.
I was trying to say sorry.
I turned back around.
I hit play on my music again.
I wished I didnt care.
I walked home that day feeling both relieved and dejected.
Two and a half more years, was all I could think.
I was desperate to escape the institution of idiots.
I wanted to go to college, make my own life.
I just had to survive until then.
