Chapter Five: My Recycled Soul by Lynette Ferreira
I have had enough of pretending to smile, pretending that everything is as it should be, because, I feel lifeless inside, as if I am carrying the whole world on my shoulders. I did not want new friends, I had just lost my gawkiness, Jason started noticing me, I was popular, and I was doing well academically—all my hard work wasted.
My mum and Sean are forever saying a person should set goals
and work toward them, and I wonder sarcastically if they ever consider that
having aspirations and goals only work when you actually see them through to
the end.
Since the day of the cataclysmic announcement, I have prayed
daily, sometimes up to once every hour, pleading that everything must please go
back to the way it is supposed to be, but here I am anyway—so much for that.
As I walk out of the front door, my mum calls from the
library, which sounds more impressive than it looks, not to stray too far away
from the house.
“Okay, Mum,” I call back, pulling my face sourly.
I walk through the waist high grass, the sun glimmering off
the yellow tips, to the edge of the trees and into the shadows. There is no
path. I stumble through the undergrowth, and I can see through the clump of
trees on all sides. I was never in any danger of getting lost, even if I tried
very hard.
Almost in the middle of the cluster of trees, I discover a
fallen tree trunk, covered with a thick layer of moist moss, blending into its
surroundings. If I did not almost fall over it, I would never have noticed it.
A shiver runs down my spine, it all looks so familiar. I sit down on the tree trunk,
and I allow the tears to flow freely down my cheeks, letting the sobs shudder
through my body.
Later, when the light starts to fade and my mum’s calls
begin to sound anxious, I get up and walk home.
Starting a new school at my age is ridiculous. I am
established in my ways. How will I fit in with new rules, new ways of doing
things, stupid strangers trying to be friendly? To make it even worse, I now
have no choice but to be chauffeured to school and back by my mum. It is
hopelessly too far to walk and there is no public transport along this rural
road. Imagine, also, standing in the persistent rain waiting for a bus?
My mum keeps pointing out that I am starting at the
beginning of the new school year, and I might not be the only new kid starting,
so it would be nice if I made friends with one of the other new students.
Whoopee!
Wearing this horrid new school uniform does not make me feel
any better either, although my mum and Sean gush and tell Esther and me how
beautiful and cute we look, while taking photos. Even if I am smiling
outwardly, it still annoys me that they think anybody would want to look back
and remember this day.
At school, I cannot stand the way the boys are staring at
me. Some of them I am sure are wondering how easy I am. The girls just plainly
ignore me, giggling at my strange accent.
For the next couple of weeks, I hide in the bathrooms at
every break. It is mortifying to stand around waiting for someone to speak to
me or to sit alone in the cafeteria. I act as if I am a reserved, alone kind of
person who would prefer not to have friends, so I do not speak to anyone during
class, keeping my head down. If anybody comes within talking distance of me, I
draw a blank expression on my face and look in the opposite direction. I did
not want to look desperate.
In Science, a boy named Aaron sits at the desk in front of
me. Now and again, he turns in his desk and talks to the girl sitting next to
me, while looking in my direction. This makes me feel self-conscience, so I
always pretend I do not see him, ignoring him completely, looking through him.
I only say what is necessary in class, and if a teacher or
an adult speak to me at school, I respond automatically. For me, the students
all melt together into a giant blur. Besides, I do not want to be here. All I
want is for things to go back to the way it was—the way it is supposed to be.
Going home every day, I smile and pretend I am the happiest
individual ever to walk the earth, mostly to keep the worry out of my mum’s
eyes and not to have her convince me—once again—that although I am unhappy now,
I will soon see that everything happens for a reason.
I go out to my hideout every afternoon, where I can be
myself without having to pretend I am happy. I swear and curse, moan and
grumble, sitting in the same place every day. The moss on the trunk is starting
to rub off and the whiteness of the long-fallen trunk is starting to shine
through all the green.
I always seem to feel better here, as if this is my little
heaven amid the larger hell out there. I can draw courage from the
surroundings. It is as if my soul feels a little lighter, and then when I go
back into the house, I can convince my mum I am happy. I can smile and in doing
this I can make her smile.
During mid-term break, as the days drag by, and in
the safety of my sanctuary, I blame my mum and Sean for this unfortunate thing
happening to me. They ruined my life permanently, and they stole my happiness
away from me. I am so lonely now and I am positive, I will never forgive them.
Then, the day before school starts again, and I am dreading
going back, I clear my mind and look up. I marvel at my surroundings changing
from different shades of green, to shades of browns, oranges and yellow, while
my hand is resting on the fallen tree I am sitting on.
I feel indentations under my fingers on the tree trunk.
Crouching down, I peer at the faint scratching but can only make out the
outline of a heart.
