Phan - New Kid - Chapter Ten

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Dan's P.O.V

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When we presented our project to the art teacher the following Friday, we got ourselves an A+. It almost made doing the project worthwhile. It wasn't that I didn't want to spend time with Phil - yeah, he was a dickhead, but he was intriguing to me. I just wanted to know what his story was. Then I'd leave him alone. Sure, I'd wanted to be his friend at the start, but it was obvious he didn't want to be mine. That was another thing that was annoyingly intriguing to me and my never ending curiosity; didn't people want to have friends? Since I'd started secondary school they were all I wanted.

I sighed and looked at the empty seat next to me. Instead of Phil coming to S.P.H.E class, he had to go talk to the career guidance counselor.  Again, intriguing. When he first came to our school, I remember being told to be extra nice to him because he had some kind of problems. Apparently. But he didn't like people being nice to him. So really, that wasn't the right thing to tell us to do.

"Daniel, could you please ask Mrs. Connolly for the aptitude tests? I believe she has them in her office." The S.P.H.E teacher - Ms. Murphy, asked me. She was asking me to go to the career guidance counselor. To actually go in there while Phil was there. Something about that made me want to get sick. He'd think I wanted to go in on purpose. Couldn't she have asked someone else? Anyone else?

"Uh, sure." I replied, getting up from my seat. I knew I wasn't the only one that was thinking about Phil being in there; Jerome gave me a much too hard nudge as I passed his desk. I just glared at him and continued to the door. It was good to get away from S.P.H.E class though. Ms. Murphy was a really kind teacher and everything, but I didn't really like talking about my feelings in front of all my classmates. I didn't mind writing about them or releasing them somehow, but really, expecting me to say what I think in front of Jerome and his mates? Fat chance.

When I got to the career guidance counselor's door, I noticed it was slightly ajar. I could see Phil - thankfully, his back was facing me, and Mrs. Connolly sitting across from him. She didn't seem to notice me outside the door, so I quietly moved to a safer spot where it'd be harder to spot me.

"...Should confide in someone." I managed to catch the tail end of the sentence. What were they talking about? I really wished I could see Phil's face, but if he saw me crouching down and peeking in the crack of the door (it was, admittedly, a pathetic sight) he'd probably kick me in the head.

"Yeah, I know." He said to her, keeping his voice a lot lower that hers had been. So he knew he should be confiding in people? If he knew that, and openly admitted that he knew, why did he hate me so much? It made me wonder what I'd done - other than be amazingly nice to him - to make him dislike me so much. 

"With your bipolar and... other problems, I think if you managed to make friends and talk to people that aren't counselors it'd be really great." She said. From my position I could see her leaving her hand on Phil's shoulder, which made him stiffen up like a terrified animal. He was bipolar? That certainly was...news. Why hadn't he told everyone on the first day? Well, it wasn't really like Phil to share. Why hadn't the teachers told us? 

"To be honest though, I don't really like talking to counselors like you either. Is it okay to go?" Phil asked, taking her hand away from his shoulder. I almost laughed at his bluntness. I would've, but the situation was much too serious. Would Phil go crazy if I asked him about his bipolar? And what were those 'other' problems she'd mentioned? Ah, who was I kidding? Of course he'd go crazy. 

It didn't make me want to shut my mouth though.

"Right..." She sighed. Phil was getting up from his seat. Shit. I needed to go in or I'd look like some kind of crazy stalker. I sprang up from my crouched position and quickly pushed the door open. Phil was standing in front of me, extremely close for that matter. I'd almost hit him with the door. Up close, his eyes were so blue. It was odd, really. I'd never seen eyes like that. Mine were such a boring shade of brown.

"What are you doing here?" He snapped, eyes widening for a split second. Well, that's always a nice way to be greeted, isn't it? If I hadn't known about his bipolar, I would've asked him what the fuck his problem was, but I did. And for some reason, it made me feel like I had when he first came to the school. I wanted to make friends with him. I wanted him to confide in me and tell me about what was happening with him. I guess it was more of a sympathy thing than actually wanting to be friends with him, but I couldn't help the way I felt.

"I need to get the aptitude tests from Mrs. Connolly. Could I, uhm, maybe, talk to you after class?" I sounded so awkward and shy, but I couldn't word it any better without sounding suggestive or too casual. I didn't purposely make myself shy though; his eyes were so intimidating up close. As I said, they were amazing, but they made me feel very small, for some reason.

"What about?" He asked.

"Just some stuff. It won't take long, I swear." I said, although it definitely would. I had to approach it properly and not fuck shit up like I'd done before. Sure, it mightn't have been entirely my fault, but since he had bipolar, I had to be considerate, right? I'd speak very quietly, gently, let him know that there's someone who cares. Sounded cliche, sure, but that's what I wanted him to know.

He looked around for a bit, considering it, before nodding a small bit and mumbling a small 'yes' and leaving. 

Maybe I was managing to get somewhere with him, eh?

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Phil's P.O.V

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Dan had asked me to meet him after class. I hadn't a clue where to meet him, or what time, since I finished class earlier than him because of my choice subjects. I decided to wait outside the school, since he'd eventually find me, right? As I walked out into the cold winter air, my mind began to wander. How much of our conversation had he overheard? What was he going to say to me? If he'd found out I had bipolar...well, I didn't want anyone to know I had it. Everyone always treated me differently when they knew about it. Like, fake niceness. I just wanted people to be genuine and honest. Was that too much to ask for?

About twenty minutes after everyone had went home, I saw Dan running around the corner of school. He was quite a fast runner, even though he usually sat out P.E and listened to his iPod. I mean, I only participated in P.E to lose weight. I certainly needed to.

"Hi, sorry, Mr. Hayes kept me late." He panted, bending down to catch his breath. I was sort of happy that someone had bothered to run for me. Depending on what he wanted to talk about, I wasn't going to be too hard on him. If I could just slowly drift away from him, that'd be the best thing. 

"Yeah, I could've guessed. What did you want to ask me about?" I asked. It actually hurt me to be nice to him. I wanted to say something witty and snappy, but at the same time, I didn't. Bipolar strikes again, I guess. He looked slightly taken aback by my sudden kindness. Just to break the awkwardness, I began walking in the direction of my house, him walking beside me.

"Well, uh, don't take this the wrong way, but I sort of heard some stuff today. I wasn't eavesdropping or any-"

"What did you hear?" I cut him off, trying to keep my calm but failing. Even I could hear the obvious panic in my voice. I didn't want to seem panicked or he'd backtrack on what he said and then I'd never know how much he'd actually heard.

"I-I, uhm, well, I heard her saying you had bipolar disorder." He said, all in a rush. I was hoping he'd heard absolutely anything other than that, but no, of course not. Just my non-existent luck, right? I stopped in my tracks. I couldn't keep calm when he knew something like that. He'd have an advantage over me. I'd be so vulnerable.

"What about it?" I said through clenched teeth. Whether he could see how furious I was I don't know, and hell, I don't want to know. Why did I have to see that stupid career guidance counselor anyway? She didn't help me. Ever. No one did. Being alone helped me. It allowed me to sort myself out. 

"Well, I was wondering, is that the reason you dislike me so much?" He asked, and he sounded so innocent. Of course he was; he lived in a big house with his kind mother without a care in the world. I didn't want to open up to him. 

"Why should I answer you?" I replied. It wasn't the bipolar making me moody either - I just couldn't keep up my calm facade any longer. I'd wanted to be nice to him, I really had. But he crossed the line. We didn't even know each other and he wanted to know about something incredibly personal about me.

"Because I asked you nicely?" 

"That's not a reason! Why do you want to know? Why do you care?!" I raised my voice embarrassingly loud and began walking again. I wanted to walk away from him and away from my thoughts. I just wanted to sleep. Sleep my life away. That didn't sound half bad, to be honest.

 

However, he continued to walk with me.

"Why are you flipping out? It's a simple question. Why don't you just answer me? I'll leave you alone then." Dan remained extremely calm. Of course he was; it wasn't him who was being questioned, was it? Did he understand that feeling? I doubted it.

"Has it ever occurred to you that I don't want to talk about it?!" My eyes were beginning to water again. I couldn't let myself be seen like that, not by him. I could see my house approaching in the distance, but that just made me feel worse. If Dad saw me with a boy...God only knew what he'd do to me. That was assuming Dad was home.

"I know, Phil, but it's not easy for your surroundings either. You have to talk the people around you into account too." He said softly. Take my surroundings into account? Not easy for them? He was kidding. He had to be.

"I don't care about my surroundings! What have they ever done for me other than be a hindrance?!" It was probably the most honest I'd been in a long time. People around me; what did I owe them? Why should I be nice to them? Disguise my feelings for them. They never did anything for me.

"Well, think of it this way; what did they do to you?" I was so close to my house. I could just sprint up the last alleyway and I'd be there. Then, hopefully, I could run up to my room and sleep. 

"It's not just my surroundings, it's people in general, you idiot!" I said it. I finally told him. I blinked away the tears that were trying to force their way out of my eyes. I'm not sure why I wanted to cry so badly because I wasn't exactly upset. I didn't feel 'sad' as such. I felt so...frustrated. That wasn't exactly the right word either.

"What?" Dan asked, his voice extremely soft. I could barely hear him over my heart beating so furiously in my ears. I was nervous he'd try to start probing into my past too.

"I said it's people. It's people in general I dislike. Can I just go?" My fight had been drained. It was sudden, but I didn't want to fight or shout anymore. I didn't want to answer questions. I didn't want friends. I didn't want to see the career guidance counselor either. I didn't want anything other than to be left alone.

"I'm here, you know. If you'd like to talk." He said. What an overused cliche. 'I'm here'. Couldn't people phrase it better than that? Of course you're there; you're always somewhere, aren't you? Couldn't you say... 'I'm not going to judge you, so just talk', or something? By that time we were at my front gate, which was wide open. Thankfully, dad wasn't home. If he was, his car would be there.

"I'd rather not." I mumbled, and then it was too much. It was too similar to what my mother'd said before she left. And I'd heard that phrase a lot over the years since she'd been gone, but no one had said it with as much sincerity as he had. I knew he was there. He wanted me to talk to him. Probably so he'd feel better about himself. I didn't know and I didn't care.

Slowly, I walked up the driveway. I felt so deflated. So...unmotivated to carry on. I wasn't going to do something as stupid to commit suicide or anything, but I was definitely going to sleep. It was Friday, so I could sleep in on Saturday.

"Are you alright?" Dan called after me. If he followed me, God, I would lock him outside my house. I wanted to be left alone, as I'd already said. Why didn't he understand that?

"Not really." I shouted back. I unlocked the door and closed it behind me, not looking back at Dan. I couldn't. First, his own mother had reminded me too much of mine, and then he started acting like her...no, I couldn't deal with it. I didn't bother checking whether dad was home or not, I just ran to the bathroom.

I lifted up my school jumper and shirt, revealing my pale skin that was hidden underneath them. It was cold in my house, as it usually was, but I was accustomed to it so it wasn't too bad. I seemed to have gotten...fatter since I'd last checked. That wasn't possible though; I hadn't eaten anything. Why did I keep getting fatter? I let a tear run idly down my cheek since there was no one to see it. Not crying in front of people was something, but I cried a lot when I was on my own.

The doctors thought I had anorexia. They put me on all these high-calorie meal plans to help me gain enough weight for me to be healthy. I allowed them to do it too. It was shortly after my mother left, and I was so emotionally drained that I didn't have the energy to put up a fight. Sort of like how I felt with Dan. It took me three weeks to finally be released from the hospital. In those three weeks, dad had become an extremely bad alcoholic. So, of course, he didn't notice when I slipped back into my old ways.

Not that I was complaining.

I lifted up the toilet seat and bent over it. I put my hand in my mouth -three fingers- far enough back that I began to gag. From there, I just let myself to throw up into the toilet. Since I hadn't eaten anything, what came up was bile. It stung my throat something awful, but that didn't matter.

After about five minutes, I just couldn't carry on anymore. I was beginning to feel weak and very dizzy. I stumbled out of the bathroom and managed to make my way up the stairs and into my room. I had a headache, a stomach ache, my throat hurt, my head was spinning and I just couldn't take it. I didn't even bother to change out of my school uniform; I just collapsed onto my bed.

For once, it felt just right - my stomach was as empty as my mind. I allowed myself to slip into unconsciousness.

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"Mom!" I shouted, waking up with a jolt. My hair was stuck to my face with sweat. It had all been some kind of dream. I still felt too weak to do anything, so I just laid there and let the tears run down my cheeks.

 It was my fault that mom overdosed three years ago. Of course it was. I was the 'problematic child'. I had depression, I was awkward, I was shy, all this at only thirteen? No wonder she'd rather be dead than have me for a son. I was pathetic.

I curled up on my side, pulling the covers over me. I watched through the window as the sun set and dad's car rolled into the driveway.