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C/W: Abuse, anxiety

Ringo shakes, his tag jingling against the leash clip. As I'm walking to the second-to-last class of the day, some kid bumps into me. My bruises ache under my sweatshirt and jeans as I shuffle sideways, my anxiety levels rising. Ringo looks up at me,  the bright afternoon light shining on his dark fur. I keep walking, struggling as I try to maneuver around the oblivious students in the hallway. I stop and move against the wall, agitated by their carelessness. Finally, after the halls clear, I sit down against the paneling.

Having passed out in school before, I really don’t want it to happen again. I had woken up in the gym, a group of boys standing around me. A teacher came over and walked me to the nurse as everyone stared, interested in the drama. At the time I didn’t have Ringo. 

My mom picked me up and brought me to the doctor. After endless testing, they concluded I had an anxiety attack and my blood pressure had dropped. To help with the anxiety, my mom got me a service dog. It took a while to get used to Ringo. All the kids were constantly coming up to me, asking if they could pet him. After a lot of nos, and please don’t pet hims, people adjusted. The student slowly forgot the incident. 

I’m relieved to have Ringo in school with me, otherwise I would most likely be back in the nurse's office again. Ringo stretches his black body over my lap. Several teachers pass me and look, not saying anything. After I calm down, I continue on towards my class. 

I walk through the door, without surprise, to find everyone looking over at me. Feeling my face turn red, I look over at the clock. I’m 10 minutes late. 

I glance at my teacher, then look down at Ringo. She quietly asks, “are you okay?”

I nod and point to Ringo. Does she notice the new bruise on my face? By now, most of the teachers understand why I’m late whenever I gesture at Ringo. While they are understanding of him, I'm not sure if they’ve seen the other side of my life.

Seconds turn into minutes as I just sit there in my chair, then an hour. After class, my teacher looks at me and moves her head, suggesting she wants to talk to me. I wake Ringo up and walk up to her. I look at her, and she opens her mouth as if she was going to say something. She closes her mouth and puts her hand on my shoulder. 

“Do you want me to walk you to your next class? When the halls are clear?”

I nod and walk back over to my desk. She pulls up a chair and sits down next to me. I quickly glance at her, then look at Ringo. 

“How’s Ringo doing?” she asks.

I shrug and look down at her shoes. She’s wearing a pair of black Sketchers. At the opening of her shoes, a pair of plain white socks. A few inches later, her leggings appear. Like her shoes, they’re black. I make it halfway up to her knee, then stare back down at her shoes. Kids line up outside her door, waiting for class to begin 

“After school, I want you to tell your dad you have to stay late, okay?”

I nod, and we both stand up to leave.

As we leave, she tells the cluster of students to go in and get a head start on some of their other work. We walk through the cleared halls towards my next class, History.

“May I?” she asks. Confused, I look up at her. She looks at Ringo. I assume she wants to pet him. 

The halls are empty, so I figure that nothing bad can happen. I nod, and she gently strokes Ringo’s shiny head. My class is almost completely on the other side of the school. She and I walk the rest of the way in silence. 

Once again, I step into the room to find everyone gawking at me from behind their computers. Something I never get used to, though it happens constantly. I glance at the clock, and this time I’m 15 minutes late. My science teacher winks at me and leaves to go back to her last class. History seems to drag on longer than science. I again worry about the teacher seeing the bruise on my face, so I brush my hair out from behind my ear, attempting to cover most of it. When I pull my hand away, I hit my bruise. I only wince slightly before I get back to taking notes for the rest of the class.

The bell rings and the teacher lets us go. I walk to my locker with Ringo, and pull out my phone to text my dad. 

“Hey dad, my teacher needs me to stay late after school, I will let you know when to pick me up. Love you.”

“What did you do now? Do you have food for the stupid dog?”

“I didn’t do anything, I just need to study with my teacher. I have enough food for Ringo.”

“Fine, just let me know when you need to be picked up.”

I shut off my phone as it buzzes and look at Ringo. My eyes were welling up from my dad calling Ringo a “stupid dog.” I don’t care what he has to say after that. As long as he gets the message. 

Ringo was sitting patiently, waiting for me to tell him what to do. His tail starts to wag as I wipe my eyes and grab his toy out of my bag. My teacher walks out of the back room and closes the door to the hall. 

Looking at her, I smile and nod. I pet Ringo, take off his vest, and signal that he can play for now. I throw his rope, and he goes after it. He brings it back and we play tug. He jerks my arm and hits another one of my bruises, and I try my best to play it off as no big deal. His long black body wiggles as I pull the rope back and forth. He lets go, and I throw the rope again. As he was chasing after it, my teacher comes over and sits down next to me on the floor. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” She asks me.

I look up at her, then look back down at Ringo. 

“I know you don’t talk much, but I’m just starting to wonder, is everything okay at home?”

She’s right and we both know it. It’s the first time someone has cared enough to say anything about it. I keep looking at Ringo, wanting to say something, but don’t know what. Ringo stops playing and alerts me. I motion for him to lay on my lap as my teacher watches him do his job.

“He just snaps into work mode, huh?”

Nodding, I pet Ringo on the back of the neck. I open my mouth to say something, but I feel fear shoot through my entire body and close it before anything could come out. Instead, I take my sweatshirt off, so my bruises are visible. She looks up and down at my arms, then looks at my face. I fix my hair behind my ear, revealing a few more bruises on my face. She studies my face. She scoots closer and gives me a hug over Ringo. Ringo gives her arm a kiss. Her hug is what I expected if my dad hugged me.  

“I can get you help.” 

Her words were better than her hug. I started to cry and Ringo licks my face. The almost half hour I had been sitting there felt like five minutes. Once I calmed down, Ringo got off, and I stood up to take a seat at the desk. 

“Thank you.” 

“It’s my job as a teacher. Does he, um… well…?” 

I look at her, waiting for her to finish her thought.

“Hurt Ringo?”

I shook my head quickly. My dad would do nothing to Ringo. He was cruel, but not that cruel. 

“May I ask how bad it is?”

I don’t want to answer this question, but I know I have to. I try to be as quiet as I can. “When he gets set off, he throws things, and hits me. When I hear him coming up to my room, I put Ringo in his cage, so he doesn’t get hurt.” 

I look outside, avoiding eye contact. The sun is already hidden behind the horizon, and I can see the moon. A full moon. I don’t want to keep talking about it, so I pull out some of my homework. Even looking at the sentences on the page, the only words that keep playing in my head are; I am going to get help, real help. My nightmare is going to end.