Little Guy

I sometimes talk to myself, but not like this.

In class, while the teacher is talking, I sometimes don’t listen to what the teacher is saying and think about things to myself. To take a break. Usually minuscule topics that don’t matter, but will allow my mind to think.

Lately, it wasn’t a break. It was more of thought that were detrimental to my health. I couldn’t control it, it would just come and go.

One day, after an argument with my friends Jack and Rob, I came into class upset. They were making fun of me and yelling at me because I wouldn’t put up with their stuff anymore.

I sat in my seat and began to talk to myself.

“Stupid,” I said, “I am stupid, stupid, stupid.

“Tandey,” Mrs. Kay, the teacher said.

I got out of my trance; everything was blurry for a second before I looked up at her.

“Are you doing okay,” she continued.

“Umm yes, I am ok,” my voice barely came out.

What I wanted to say was, “No, help! I’m struggling.”

Her look of concern confused me. Did I look like how I felt? I noticed she would look at me every few minutes. I would try not to look back at her. As time passed, I noticed myself becoming more and more anxious, I had to do something before I exploded.

“Mrs. Key, may I go to the bathroom,” my voice was shaky as I was holding back the tears.

“Yes Tandey, that’s fine,” she responded.

I went up to her desk, signing out, and rushing to the bathroom. The tears began to come out before I reached it. When I got into the bathroom, no one was in there luckily so I ran into one of the stalls and threw my backpack on the ground.

Putting my hands to my face, I couldn’t stop but tell myself, “Stupid, stupid, stupid…”

I would try to block those thoughts out of my mind and tell myself positive affirmations, but the thoughts were too loud.

After a few minutes, I regained some hold and took out my phone. Two messages. One from Jack. One from Rob. I was nervous to open them, but I felt compelled to.

“How stupid are you?” Jack texted.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid…” ran through my head.

Okay, open the text from Rob. My finger touched the icon and my eyes widened.

“I don’t think I can be friends with people like you,” the message read.

God, what is wrong with me, I told myself.

“Nothing is wrong with you,” A familiar voice outside my stall says.

My attention shifted to the voice. That was weird, I thought. I didn’t say it aloud. I put my hand on the stall door.

“Come out here,” said the voice, “I want to talk to you.”

Who is that? I reached for the lock and unlocked it, opening the stall.

I looked around the bathroom. No one was in it.

“Wh-who's there,” I said.

“Come over here,” the voice repeated. It sounded like it came over from the sink.

When I got to the sink, I looked in it. Nothing was different. I then looked at the mirror. 

God my face.

I looked at my face, scanning it, for a few seconds. Something odd happened. I looked at my eyes and watched as a tear fell onto my cheek. Then I saw my eyes blink.

I didn’t blink, but the mirror me did. I gasped and tripped backward, falling onto my back.

“Get back up,” the voice said.

Was the mirror talking to me?

I got up and stood in front of the mirror. I put my finger up to the glass.

“Tandey," my image in the mirror said.

I quickly moved my finger away. My mirror image began to move on its own. Not mimicking my actions. I stood still, not believing what happened.

“Talk to me,” It said.

“Hi-um-who are you?” I asked.

“I am you,” It responded.

I walked a few steps back.

“Well, the image of whatever you want me to be,” it continued.

Was I talking to myself, or was I having a hallucination? I couldn’t tell you.

“You are?” I asked.

“I can be happy,” he smiled.

The mirror began to fog up; Cold to the touch. A jacket appeared on It.

“I can be sad,” It frowned.

The mirror went back to normal. The jacket disappeared.

“What are you,” I asked.

“It’s not what I am. It’s what do you want to be,” It responded.

I thought for a second. What do I want to be? I looked It in the eyes.

“I want to be happy,” I said, “I want to have friends who like me for me. Who are nice, who are respectful.”

“Well, evidently you’re looking in the wrong places,” It laughed.

“I know,” I said, “but where can I find friends like that at this horrible school.”

It got serious.

“See, you’re looking for friends that are cool, and popular. Sometimes you just gotta look at the little guys too. Put away your preconceived notions and talk to a person. You might find that you have more in common than you thought.”

“The little guy. Huh… I could try that,” I said.

“You would?”

I shook my head. It shook it’s head back at me.

“Just remember, I’m always here. I’ll know.”

My mirror image went from moving on its own, back to copying my movements.

“Little guy… Huh,” I repeated to myself.

I went back to the stall and picked up my backpack. Going back to the sink to wash my hands. Staring at the mirror the whole time. I turned off the sink and looked at the bathroom door. Can I make decent friends for once? Well, at least I can try. I walked out of the bathroom and looked out through the hall.

Two boys ran past me. One of them holding a backpack and a shirt. Another boy ran past me without a shirt.

“Hey, give me that back!” The shirtless boy yelled.

“Loser! Loser!” The other two boys chanted.

I chased after them and caught up to the two boys. I grabbed onto the backpack. I’m not the strongest person, and I don’t know how, but the grip the boy had loosened and flew onto the ground. The two boys ran away with the shirt.

The shirtless boy ran up to me.

“Thanks,” he said, picking up his backpack. He began to walk away.

“I’m Tandey,” I blurted. He turned around.

“Oh-I’m Lukas,” he responded.

“Do you need a shirt.”

“That would be great. Do you have one?”

I put my backpack on the ground and opened it. Pulling out a white t-shirt and handing it to him.

“My parents are divorced so I was bringing some clothes to stay with my dad,” I said awkwardly.

“Don’t worry, I won’t judge. My parents are divorced too,” He smiled.

“Hey, by any chance… Would you want to hang out during lunch,” I asked.

“Me-I don't know,” he leaned towards me, “I hang out with the “weird” kids.”

“I don’t care,” I responded, “I was looking for some new friends.”

Lukas smiled.