Secret cuts

I don't understand why these adults don't mind their own business. I mean, I know I should not have let a stupid kid pull me into an outrageous bet. But at the end of the day, it is my life that is on line, not theirs. Why do they care?

Now I have been dragged to the school Headmistress office. As if she would magically fix everything wrong in my mind. 

Sometimes I think, why is it so difficult for me to deal with these people, talk to them, let them speak to me as if I am retarded? Other kids do it just fine. And in the end, you have to agree to whatever they want from you, or they politely threaten to take away all your privileges.  

I try to peek inside to look. Who is the poor student trapped inside? When I can't see, I look away and startle. A boy is sitting beside me, leaning forward, trying to see my face. I, yelp and whisper, "Who are you?" 

"Who are you?" He asks instead.

"I am Amy. Why are you looking at me like I am a specimen at the museum?" I say.

"I was just curious who you are." He answers, shrugging. Then asks again, "Which grade are you in?"

"Why should I tell you? You didn't tell me your name."

"Oh, my name is Anuj. I am in tenth grade."

"I am in eleventh grade. I am your senior." I try to stare him down. He just smiles. I find that irritating. 

I ask before he could ask another question, "What have you done?"

"I can't tell you. If I tell you I would be betraying my friend. I have to protect him at any cost."

"Interesting. Now you have piqued my curiosity. You can't back out now."

"I never said I would tell you anything," he said. 

"I promise I won't tell anyone."

He shakes his head like a pendulum. “No I can’t.” 

I tell him, “It’s okay.”

He says, “Thank you.” And looks here and there. His gaze settles on my wrist. "Oh!"  

He is looking at small bandages on my hands as if it explains everything. I say, "It's not what you think."

"Then tell me."

I shouldn't since he refused to tell me anything, but I don't know why I like him. His eyes are honest. "I am telling you, but you have to spill your secret to me later." I notice that he doesn't commit. 

"It was a bet." I start and then realise I do not have anything else to add to the story because there is no other explanation. 

He is waiting for more. He raises his eyebrows. I shrug. 

He takes a survey of me from top to bottom and says, "You don't look like someone who would give in to a bet."

I don't know whether to feel offended or pleased. "What kind of person do I look like?"

"You look smart," he says.

"I am Smart," I say. "That's why I know a small cut will not kill me. But I tell you it was so satisfying to see her face when I did it. Her eyes were bulging out of the sockets. It was fun!"

"Wow! You were looking at someone else. Didn't you feel any pain?"

I make a show of thinking and then shake my head. "Nope."

He is still looking at me as if I am a puzzle to solve. I whisper in his ears, "You see, that is my problem. I don't feel anything." 

He is a tall, rangy boy with glasses. He looks at me with interest. And then says quietly, "I get you." 

It astonishes me. I look at him wanting to say something when we hear an electronic voice, "Amy Pahuja, Mrs. Saxena would see you now." 

I look at the speaker. "This is creepy. As if somebody was here all along."

He smiles and motions for me to go. I whine, "I don't want to go. She would ask questions." I get up to leave. 

He gives me a thumbs-up, "All the best."

"Don't go anywhere. Our conversation hasn't ended."

"But when you come out, I go in."

"I'll wait for you."

He shrugs. 

Our Principal, Mrs. Manju Saxena, is sitting at her desk, working on her desktop computer, her back to the entrance. She is a tall, stout lady with glasses perched on her nose. Usually, glasses on a face make me feel comfortable, but Mrs. Saxena looks menacing. It's like it gives her the ability to spot the lies. 

I don't know why seeing her back, the first thing on entering the room increases my anxiety. I make a mental note to not show my back to a client at their entrance in a meeting room ever in my life if I get to live that far. She is going to kill me. 

I greet her. "Good afternoon Mrs. Saxena." She still doesn't look at me and replies, "Good afternoon. Take a seat." I don't know what training teachers get at their college to teach children, but I am pretty sure smiling at them when you see them should be the top priority, and someone like Mrs. Saxena, who is incapable of that, should be disqualified. She doesn't even like children, it seems. I don't know why she will pick a profession where she has to deal with them. 

I take a seat opposite her and wait for her to look at me. She finally does. She looks tired. I feel sorry for her for a moment before she starts speaking, "Amy, so you did it again, and this time at school premises."

"Mrs. Saxena, I didn't try to kill myself. It's just a small cut. I cut myself by mistake."

"Where did you get the blade to cut yourself at school?"

I say sheepishly, "We all have sharpeners."

"So, it wasn't an accident." I look down, trying to look remorseful. 

"Why would you do something like this?" She says like she was asking herself because she knows very well, I am not going to answer. I wouldn't tell her even if I had the answer. 

"Last time you said you cut yourself with a paper while doing project work for school. It's hard to believe." She looks at me to respond when I don't, she continues. "Look, Amy, I know your home situation. You think your parents hate you because you are not the boy they wanted after your brother's death within a week of his birth. Even if it is true, no parent hates their child. I will have to send you to the school counselor. Maybe she would be able to make you understand that killing yourself is not a solution."

Yeah, right, that's the best solution. What if she advises all the unhappy people in the world to kill themselves? The world will be such a happy place!

I smile at the thought. My mirth enrages her further. "Amy, do you know how many irresponsible kids like you, I have to deal with daily." She says with forced patience.

"I am sorry. I won't do it again." This is all you have to say at the end, to get out of the room. I don't know why I take so long to say it. I am so stupid. 

But this time, she was not letting me go. "Tell me what is bothering you? Why do you feel the need to end your life?"

"I did not try to end my life," I say firmly. I am not lying. It is such a shallow wound. I don't know why everyone panics at the sight of blood. It's everywhere. In each one of us. Why be scared of it. 

"That's what you say. But how do I believe you?" I swear this woman can drive a child to suicide by asking the same question again and again. 

I try to look remorseful by looking down and don't answer. She says, "I don't have a choice. I have to let you go. But you are seeing school counselor soon." She contradicts her statement of letting me go. I don't care. I am sure I would be able to get out of that, too, without revealing much of my dark thoughts. I can manipulate them all. 

I get up and walk out slowly. Anuj stands on seeing me. "How did it go?"

"It's the same every time. She tells me that kids like me make her life hell. She wishes she doesn't have to deal with me. And then she commands me to be happy. As if it was so easy. Go on; you'll be fine. I am waiting for you here." 

The lunch break bell rings, but I don't move because I need to see him again. I was afraid if I lose him now, I won't be able to find him ever. However, that is ridiculous, since we are in the same school.

He looks solemn when he comes out. "What happened?" I ask.

"I have been suspended from school for a month. I will not be able to give half-yearly exams. My parents are going to kill me." He has tears in his eyes. 

I take his hand, and he follows me to the lunchroom. I find a corner for us. I command him to sit. 

"Can you please tell me, what did you do?" I ask, wanting to help him.

"I can't."

"Come on; I tell you I cut myself for fun. What could be worse than that?"

"It involves my friend. I have to protect him. He is different, sexually." He says and then stops.

"Oh, so you could have told Mrs. Saxena that." 

"I can't. He is too scared of people coming to know about his sexuality and making fun of him or being cruel to him."

"Okay, tell me what happened that brought you here."

"There are some boys in my class. They think they are all cool. I and my friend, I am not going to name him, try to stay away from them. They got to know my friend's secret, and they cornered him in the boy's washroom and started bullying him. They were offensive and hateful. I couldn't bear it, and I hit one of them to push him away. When others came towards me, I hit him on the face too. He got it on the nose and started bleeding. All boys started running away from me. The helper in the washroom brought me here straight."

I was thinking. "It's okay if you don't want to take your friend's name, but you will have to tell me the names of other boys you hit."  

He thought for some time. "What would you do?"

"I want to help you."

"You can't." He shakes his head.

"Let me try." I look him in the eye, trying to convey my sincerity. There are not many occasions when I do something good. I am sure it would be evident on my face.

"They are a group of three boys, Vishal, Aman, and Krish. I hit Aman and Krish."

"Eww… Krish. I know him. He is a douchebag. I saw him commenting on girls' appearances on the corridor, where everyone could hear him." 

"That's what cool boys do." 

"No. That's what an a****** do. Let me think. I think I can help you."

We sit quietly for a few minutes. I say, "I am a girl."

He looks at me like I have sprouted an extra head. "I can see that."

"If I say, those guys were harassing me sexually, Mrs. Saxena would believe me." 

His eyes widened. "You would lie." 

"It won't be the first time." I smiled. “And I could also say that I got these cuts on my wrist from the nearby bicycle in the paking lot, when I was trying to run away from them.” 

"But what's the point, they would deny it."

"Yes, but they would deny it even if you reveal what they did. Somebody has to give to them what has been coming to them for long, Karma." 

He was still doubtful, "I don't like to lie. It's too stressful. They would ask details. Where did it happen? Who else is the witness? What was the time?" 

"Don't worry. We will work out the details."

"But why would you want to put yourself in this position? You would be asked cringy questions. Everyone would talk about you." 

"Everyone already talks behind my back. I am a freak."

"You are not a freak." He looks me in the eye. His eyes more than his words, affirmed my desire to do this. 

“I don’t know about being a freak, but I don’t belong with all these people. I know how your friend feels, and I admire you for being there for him. I wish I had a friend like you." 

He takes my hand and rubs his thumbs lightly on the bandages and looks at me, "You do now."