But I need to inform her about my missing phone. “Mom.” The word now fraudulent coming from my mouth. “I lost my cellphone last week. I must’ve dropped it while I was in school. Can I head over to AT&T and grab a replacement?”
Her eyes narrow. “Of course, you would lose your things. Perhaps we have spoiled you too much, so you don’t know the value of money.”
I scoff. Is she kidding me right now? “I’ll pay for it myself.” Contrary to her belief, I do know the value of money.
She purses her lips. “That’s unnecessary. Your phone has insurance. We can go together after I finish work.”
Damn. I don’t want to be with her, but I won’t protest, either. A few minutes later, she drops me off at school and I breathe a sigh of relief, Morning rides with my mother are never fun.
I hurry over to Senior Hall, and I hope Dee is around because I miss her. As I enter the hallway, I notice it being more crowded than usual. I walk over to my locker with my heels echoing. The students stop at the sound I’m making, and they turn to me. Then they part like the Red Sea as I step towards them, every one of them plastering themselves to their lockers as I pass.
What the hell?
My heart beats at my overwhelming sense of dread. As I near my locker, I see Bianca and her friends milling around in front of mine. I clear my throat in irritation, causing them to turn to me.
“What do you want?” said Bianca.
“That’s my locker.” I point to it. “Move.”
As I speak, I’m aware of the silence surrounding us. But she gives me a saccharine smile. “Certainly.”
“Jo, wait!” Dee calls out, and I turn to greet her, but someone pushed me, and I fall to my locker. To prevent myself from face-planting on the opening, I put my arms out, and I come face to face with a flyer taped on my door. As I right myself, I squint to study what’s on the paper, and my breath hitches when I see my photograph in it. I rip it off, my heart beating fast as my brain stumbles on the contents.
“Jo, don’t read that,” said Dee. “It’s bullshit.”
But I’m already sinking in the quicksand as I read incriminating information about me.
Are We Safe?
Josephine Marie Ligaya
Diagnosis: Schizophrenia
Admitted at Glen Park Residential Treatment- psych ward to treat severe mental illnesses
4/2008-6/2008
Psychiatric Initial Assessment
Eight-year-old Filipino-American female presents with visual and auditory hallucinations and delusions. Patient has visible scratches on her arm which she claims were inflicted by a girl during a game of hide and seek.
Patient’s history was obtained from her mother who claimed that her daughter talked to herself and when confronted, would point to an empty area as if introducing someone. She stated that patient had been exhibiting this behavior for two weeks.
Patient stated that she sees individuals and they communicate with her. She denied they command her to do actions to hurt herself or others. These people, according to her, cannot speak but are persistent in a way that they appear to her and demand attention from her.
During this assessment, the patient’s eyes darted from left to right, tracking something. I observed her acknowledging this visual stimulus by talking to it. Patient expressed surprise when this writer denied seeing this person who she claimed was a young man with black wavy hair.
It is this writer’s recommendation to conduct a full psychological evaluation because of a presentation of schizophrenic symptoms.
My vision blurs from the mixture of horror and anger at the outright invasion of my privacy and the judgment leveled against me for my diagnosis. I look around and see every locker with the same flyer taped on their doors. My gut feeling tells me it’s all over the school. Dee was trying to warn me, which was why she was rushing to reach me. She must’ve read it, too.
My nose flares and my eyes sting at the utter maliciousness of this stunt. I snap my head towards Bianca because I believe that no one else is capable of this meanness. “You bitch! You did this!”
“What the fuck are you talking about, you psycho!”
“You would do something like this!”
“You have no proof. I would suggest you watch what you say. Do you realize who my father is?”
“I don’t give a shit!”
Bianca faces the throng. “Guys, seriously. I’m concerned about this girl. How do we know she won’t snap and start shooting the entire school?Clearly if you read her psychiatric report, she’s bat-shit crazy. A complete nutcase. How do we know these invisible people she sees won’t tell her to hurt us?”
The crowd gasps while her friends nod in agreement.
“Shut the fuck up, Bianca!” said Dee.
Then Bianca turns her head to me. “Look at her. She’s accusing me of stuff I didn’t do. Totally delusional. She’s unhinged, people! She is practically foaming at the mouth like a rabid dog.”
Something inside me breaks. I lunge for her, her eyes widening as that ever-present coolness disappears and is replaced by fear. I lick my lips in anticipation because I want this to hurt as much as I’m hurting now.
But as soon as my fist hovers inches from her face, I’m pulled backwards. I cry out in surprise as my back slams into a chest. Powerful arms wrap around my waist, keeping my body away from my target. I flail in anger as I try to free myself from my captor. I want to fight.
“Relax.” Someone hisses in my ear. “You’re only giving them ammo that you’re unsafe around them. Get out of here now.”
I turn my head, and I see Brandon — his brown eyes hard but urgent. My brain clicks as his statement registers, and I set my feet on the ground.
“Go,” he said. Then he releases me.
I take one last look at Bianca, who has composed herself. It will only be a minute before she embellishes the story to prove her point. And so I run. I don’t know where I’m going, but I am leaving.
“See everybody?” She says to the crowd. “She was coming after me. That flyer is right! Are we really safe from her?”
As I sprint, I hear Dee defending me, telling them I never laid a hand on her and that this situation justified my fury. I continue to run, but as I near the exit, I notice George. He’s leaning against a locker with his arms crossed over his chest. He’s sneering at me and my anger returns. I stop in front of him.
“You gave her that report, didn’t you? That’s a HIPAA violation, you fucker!”
He smiles that unnerving smile. “Do you have proof?”
“You said it yourself that you have ways of finding information on people. You helped Bianca to get back at me.”
“It’s my word against yours. You really think I’m worried about what you’re going to do to me?” He gives me a mocking laugh as he peels himself away from the locker. “Good one.”
I turn beet red. I want to maim him and make him scream, but that won’t help me in the long run. So I leave, defeated.
I dash for the baseball fields and head to the dugout. Thank god, it’s empty. For the second time, I huddle in a dark corner, sobbing, as my world continues to crumble.
Chapter 50
Josephine
I lean my head against the wall while on the ground, knees to my chest, in a dirty baseball dugout. From invisible to Quasimodo, I can officially describe my brief high school career as bad to worse. The sunray creates a funny-looking hump in my shadow, sealing my reputation as a feared crazy monster escaped from a mental institution.
A shuffle behind the wall makes me sit upright, and I glance around, wishing a secret door exists so I can escape. But the person who emerges is a welcome sight. “Mr. Cunningham? What are you doing here?”
He stands at the top of the steps leading to the dugout. Concern disfigures his upbeat disposition as he looks at me with his forehead creased.
“Hey, Josephine,” he said. “I saw you running this way, and I had to check up on you. I’m so sorry about what happene
d. That was not ok.”
I nod. Tears pool on my lids, but I shake it away. I’ve done enough crying to last me a lifetime, but his words were the first kind ones since Bianca incited fear this morning.
“And I already brought it up to the principal, and he’s taking it seriously.”
A wave of panic hits me. “Mr. Cunningham, is he going to call my mom and dad?”
“I believe so.”
My face contorts, and I groan. “I’m in deep trouble.”
He looks at me with confusion as he sits on the step. “Why? You did nothing wrong.”
“My parents are different,” I said. My mother will handle this, but not on my behalf. She has to fix this in the name of shame. Then, she’ll send me somewhere because I’ll be too much of a liability. Guess I’m heading to the Philippines. “Can you stop them from contacting my family?”
“Do they hurt you, Josephine?”
I keep my mouth closed. I don’t want to open the Pandora’s box today.
“I can’t stop Mr. Dwyer from calling your parents. This is a serious matter and a HIPAA violation.”
I sigh. There’s that word again. HIPAA. The federal protection for the privacy of personal health information. Someone at Glen Park violated that and shared my mental health record to George and Bianca. “I guess you have no choice.”
He shakes his head. “Listen, the bell is about to ring. Are you coming to class?” He notices my quickened breathing, and he softens his eyes.
“I can’t face them, Mr. Cunningham. I’m usually quite strong, but today I don’t want to be.”
He smiles. “I understand. I’ll advise the principal to excuse you from some of your classes. He probably needs to communicate with you, anyway. But you can’t hide forever. You’ll have to face them sometime.”
Not if my mom ships me to the Philippines. Maybe that’s not such an awful idea anymore.
“Don’t let them see you cower. Mental illness is nothing to be ashamed of, Josephine. You need to stand up, shift that paradigm and normalize it.”
“Does it have to be me, though?”
He smiles. “No, but I can’t think of anyone better suited for it.”
I give him a faint smile.
“When you are ready, I’m here for you,” he said. “But right now, I gotta run. You’re gonna be ok?”
“Yeah.”
“Good girl,” he said. “You know where to find me.”
I bite my lip. I have nowhere to go, but this dugout is getting frosty and musty. When I stand, I brush the dirt off my skirt but it’s now stained. Oh well. I climb up the steps and as soon as the sun hits my face, I take a deep breath.
Here goes nothing.
***
I spent the last three periods hibernating in the school office. I used an hour of that with the principal, Mr. Dwyer, who genuinely cares to address this issue. Not because he is concerned for my well-being. But because of the legal ramifications this may involve. He’s had a run-in with my mother, everyone knows Bianca’s dad, and who doesn’t know George’s grandfather, the mayor? This will not be pretty. He hasn’t called my parents, yet. Thanks to me. But he’s stalling.
When my immunity runs out, and I’m instructed to return to class, I’m, once again, a bundle of nerves. How I wish I was wearing a hoodie because there’s nothing more enticing than hiding beneath that hood. Instead, I have to be satisfied with my pea coat.
As I step out of the office, I take a deep breath. In less than a minute, the bell will ring, and I’ll have to walk with my tormentors. And it’s at this moment my mind conjures Julian. I haven’t seen him, and I’m sure he’s cognizant of what happened. Since I don’t have a phone, I’m not aware if he’s trying to reach me.
A wave of sadness overcomes me. It’s possible that he will avoid me. Of course, he’s already aware of the information in that flyer, but the cause of everyone knowing my past is my status plummeting to social pariah. He wouldn’t want to associate with me now. No one wants to come near me with a ten-foot pole if they want to protect their reputation.
As I walk to class, I notice that they have removed the flyers. I’m not sure if the school removed them or everyone has it in their pockets for future reference. Either way, no trace of my record exists.
The bell rings as I walk to Senior Hall. One by one, the doors open, and I brace for the onslaught of kids that will exit these classrooms. And in a blink of an eye, they burst out and my heart beats. They trigger my fight-or-flight responses, and I pray to god I won’t react. I have to thank Brandon for saving me from making that mistake. Although punching Bianca would’ve given me the greatest satisfaction, it would not have helped my case.
Their stares burn, making me heat up in this cold winter air. My stroll to my locker stretches unbearably. They whisper around me as they walk outside of my periphery. My instinct is to lower my head, but then a wave of anger takes over. Why should I give them the satisfaction? They’re the ones who violated my privacy. And so, I lift my chin up as if I’m walking to my coronation instead of walking to my execution. To hell with them.
But my bravery is tested when I slam into someone. The impact awakens me, and I stare into the chocolate brown eyes of Jordan. “Oh, I’m sorry.”
He says nothing. Instead, he backs away and rubs his neck. His eyes dart as if checking if anyone is watching. I nod, understanding the subtle message he’s sending. He’s afraid to be seen with me. I sigh. And so it begins.
“Don’t worry,” I said. “No one saw us. You’re good.” I step to the side, so I can continue walking. At this point, I’m ready to leave him. His reaction, though not surprising, stings. Though, we are nowhere near serious, I’ve considered him a friend. I guess a part of me wishes that he’ll be on my corner.
“Jo,” he said.
I stop and turn around with a renewed sense of hope. He fidgets with his backpack straps and looks at his shoe. Finally, he glances at me. “I’m sorry. I hope you understand.”
How do I respond to that? I understand that you’re too chicken shit to stand up for me? But to his defense, we barely know each other. I can’t expect him to do that for me, can I?
I shrug. “Don’t worry about it.” And with that, I turn on my heels and walk away. If this dismissal is Jordan’s reaction to my scandal, I can imagine Julian’s.
Chapter 51
Julian
I’m staring at the window of my History class. Mrs. Sanchez is lecturing on World War II, but the words ricochet off my head. My mind is on Jo.
My search for her proved futile and no one knew her whereabouts. I look at the flyer Brandon gave me this morning, and my hand balls into a fist. The damning information covers the flyer like a stain. They should never have leaked this report. Someone plastered Jo’s unfortunate life experience on everybody’s lockers so the entire student body can gawk and judge her. This stunt is a classic Bianca move, and I’m angry because this cruelty is meant for me. Her words mock me in my head. You’re going to regret this.
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