by Sarah Delany
“We’ve got her dude, don’t you worry at all,” Rafe tells me.
“Thanks guys,” I say to them, as Rafe throws his arm over my shoulder and we walk towards the wide stone steps at the school entrance. As if my body can sense her presence, I glimpse to the right. There she is, right by the last row of cars before we start climbing the steps. What I see takes my breath away. She’s smiling and I instantly know it’s a real smile because this smile meets her eyes. The problem is, it’s not directed at me, it’s directed at Blake; her boyfriend. I quickly turn my head so she doesn’t see me and my heart cracks. Silly, I know. She has a boyfriend yet I still hoped she felt the same connection I did. Friends, it’s all I’m supposed to be aiming for. Yet my head is having trouble convincing my heart it’s all I want.
With today being Tuesday, we don’t have human bio until right before lunch so me and the guys’ part ways with our ‘distract Tamsyn’ plan ready for action. The positive mood I’d started the day with has been extinguished and I find myself distracted during class.
The image of Tamsyn grinning at Blake is like a spear to my gut and I can’t shake the unwanted feelings it brings with it. I’m in Calculus class first this morning and we are working on equations from our textbooks so I can take my time, letting my self-loathing simmer in my mind. I persevere and try to push it aside, choosing to focus on my work. I’ve been so distracted in my thoughts of Tamsyn lately, I’ve ignored my own issues buried inside. What a hypocrite I am. I have been chomping at the bit to know all her secrets and the cause of her pain but not dealing with or sharing my own guilt and shame.
The longer I sit here, the more infuriated I become. I start to crack so I hastily shove my books in my bag. The banging noises I’m making have heads turning my way but I could care less, I need to get out of here.
Bag in hand, half jogging to the door, I hear my maths teacher Mr. Finnegan yell, “Tate, where are you going?” I don’t give him a second thought as I’m past the point of stopping. Slamming the door as I exit, I race down the hall, exiting into the fresh air and running wherever my feet take me.
By the time I’m out of breath, I drop my bag on the grass and place my hands on my head, trying to draw air into my lungs. They’re screaming for oxygen, as my mind screams for silence. My skin is tingling from the rage boiling below the surface. I can’t get enough breath into my lungs. My breaths are coming too fast and too short. A panic attack; it’s the last thing I need right now. I haven’t had a full blown one since I’ve arrived in this town. I thought leaving home I had left the anxiety that caused the panic attacks behind but I guess it’s not the case. My heart is going to burst out of my chest any second. I need to get control of this. I slump to the ground and lean against the goal post. I’ve run all the way out to the football field.
I think back to Dr Lawson’s advice on how to recover after a panic attack. I close my eyes, drawing a slow breath into my lungs and I focus on the rhythm. In and out. In and out. My heart rate slows as I exhale longer, finally getting my breathing under control. Don’t think. Don’t think. Don’t think! I push all my thoughts to the side where I can keep them contained.
I hear the faint bell sounds for the next period. I’m still trying to recover and catch my breath; I’m in no state to go to class. I know I shouldn’t be alone. I search my pocket for my phone and send JP a message. Not five minutes have passed and I can see him sprinting my way from a distance.
“Bro, what’s wrong?” his distress has his voice shaking. Widened eyes lined with worry stare at me. “What are you doing out here?” he questions.
“Panic attack,” is all I say, and I see the pity take over. I continue to focus on my breathing. JP can’t help how he feels right now. People who don’t understand my panic attacks always get the same expression of pity on their face. I used to lash out when I’d see their concern change to pity but it’s happened so many times now I’ve become immune to their response.
JP drops his butt to the grass beside me and catches his own breath.We sit for a good ten minutes, in our own thoughts, focussed on our breathing. Since I moved here I’ve noticed one thing about JP. He isn’t good with silence.
Before long he’s asking, “Do you want to talk about it?” I stare out at the length of the field facing the school feeling like it’s miles away.
I reply, “I couldn’t control my thoughts today. They rushed up on me and I had to get away before I snapped at someone. I ran out in the middle of my Calculus class.”
“Oh bro. And this is the first time it’s happened here?” he asks, and something about his voice makes me think he knows more about my panic attacks than he’s letting on.
“Did my mum say something to you?” I ask him, with an arched brow.
He chuckles saying, “You know our mums talk non-stop. Yours told mine about the panic attacks and my mum told me. Don’t be mad, bro. They’re worried. We all are,” I nod my head. I don’t want them all worrying about me. “You sure something didn’t set you off?” he asks like he knows there is but doesn’t want to say it outright. I don’t want him blaming Tamsyn for triggering me when she did nothing wrong. All she did was have a genuine smile on her face and I flipped a gasket. No, I’ll keep this information to myself.
“Nah man, I reached boiling point this morning and couldn’t contain it any longer.”
He accepts my response for truth and asks, “Are you going to be all good for next period?” He looks at his watch, “It’s going to start in ten minutes. I’ve got to hand in my history assignment so I’ve got to go.” Next period; I search my brain for my schedule and it’s human bio next. Thoughts of helping Tamsyn through the class override everything else I’m feeling and I’m on my feet before I answer JP.
“Yeah man, I’m good. Let’s head back,” I tell him, throwing my bag over my shoulder. I stretch out my hand to help pull him up to his feet. We walk in silence back to school, fist bumping before we veer off in different directions.
Chapter 9
---Tamsyn---
The longer English class drags on, the sweatier my hands become. Tate hasn’t arrived. He mustn’t be at school today so I guess this means I’ll be on my own for our eye dissection. The thought alone is causing me to panic. I notice Scott staring at the door; I wonder if he’s hoping Tate will walk in too. It’s nearly the end of the period and he still hasn’t arrived. I hope he isn’t sick. Let’s hope he sees my number in his book when I give it back to him. It would make contacting him a lot easier and save me from all this stress of not knowing.
The bell rings signalling the end of class so Mr. Barnes dismisses us and we start packing up. I take my time, not in a rush to get to human bio now. Not now, because Tate won’t be there to help me through it. Leyla and Chloe wave goodbye as they leave. The class is empty now so I’ve got no excuse to stay. I drag my feet down the hall, dread filling me with every step. I wipe my sweaty palms on my skirt trying to dry them but my apprehension makes them sweat more. I turn the handle on the door fearing how the next hour is going to go. I enter, shuffling my way to my desk with my head down.
Ms. Chadwick’s voice brings me out of my funk, “Okay class, let’s get straight into it today. We will be working in pairs from our tables.” I gulp as it’s now confirmed I’ll be by myself. “Can one person from each group come up and retrieve their eyeball specimen and tools you are going to need. No funny business either kids. Rafe, I’m looking at you,” I hear her warn. I’m nearly at my desk, head still down. I close my eyes and take a deep inhale preparing myself for what’s about to come.
Surprisingly I’m blessed with the familiar earthy scent I know belongs to Tate. Simultaneously, my eyes snap open as I feel his touch on my hand as he tugs me towards him. He’s twisted in his chair so he moves me between his spread legs as if it’s normal for us to be this close. We stare at each other as he holds my hand, running his thumb back and forth in a calming gesture
. My heart sighs with relief because he’s here.
“You’re here,” I tenderly say, with a genuine smile on my face.
“Of course I am. I told you I would be.” He returns my smile with one of his own but his eyes are tense like something is wrong. He wasn’t in English either which has me concerned.
“Is everything alright with you? You weren’t in English,” I say, and without thinking I lift my hand and wipe my thumb across his forehead like I can erase the stress lining his face. He audibly sighs and brings me back to reality. I drop his hand and inch back from him.
With an amused expression on his face he says, “Everything is fine now. Nothing a dose of you won’t fix.” He winks at me. My face heats up and a smile tugs at my lips. I turn away and pull my book out of my bag along with Tate’s book.
“Thanks for the notes. You’re a lifesaver,” I say, returning his book to him.
“You’re welcome. Now do you want me to get our eyeball so we are good to go?” he asks, and then must see the hesitation on my face. “It’s going to be alright. I’m here, Sweetness,” he whispers, using his secret name for me which makes my heart sing, sending a relaxing calm through me.
“Can you try not to get a blue eye, please?” I quietly ask him.
He nods saying, “No problem,” as he bounces off his seat towards the front of the class. I push my chair to the side so I can stand at the desk like most of the class. He returns with a tray carrying a blue cow’s eye, a scalpel, scissors, wax paper and paper towels, setting it down on our desk. On the board, there’s a diagram of the cow’s eye to use for direction.
“Sorry, they only had a blue one left,” Tate apologises.
“Right class. Let’s get started. Starting off we are going to examine the eye and I want you to see how many features you can identify. And yes, it will be easier if you handle the eye. Please remember to wash your hands at the end of class. Let’s start. I’ll be walking around the class calling out further instructions too so keep up,” Ms. Chadwick instructs us on how to proceed. Inspecting the eyeball closely, my hands shake. Tate, perceptive as always, sees my panic set in. Most of the class is preoccupied, excited about the gross prospect of playing with their eyeballs so they don’t notice us for which I’m thankful. The last thing I need is the school rumour mill talking about me. Tate sits back in his chair with his legs spread. He snakes a hand around my waist pulling my back towards his chest.
I find myself naturally sitting in his lap a bit and he rests his chin on my shoulder whispering to me, “Breathe, Sweetness. We’re going to get through this.” I relax into his touch and he brings the other arm around me to squeeze me tighter. In the back of my subconscious, I know I shouldn’t be this close to him but I can’t remember the reason why when it’s so right. “Now tell me what exactly about the eyeball is freaking you out?” he gently probes. His touch has fried all my sensors so I don’t even think when I tell him the truth
“My dad’s eyes were blue and I got a flash of the day I found him on the kitchen floor. The day he died.” I timidly confess to him. He holds me even tighter like he’s pressing my broken pieces back together. I wish it were this simple. My lips shake with the pain my confession has brought to the surface.
He must notice something change in me because he eases me with, “Sshh, sshh, sshh.” His grip loosens and he uses his hands to turn me around to face him resting his hands on my hips. I see concern on his face. He looks at me with such emotion, I can see him trying to take all my pain away so I never have to hurt again. If he could, it would be a miracle.
Without taking his eyes off of mine, he calls over my shoulder to Scott, “Scott, can we switch eyeballs please?” I don’t hear a response but Tate’s hand leaves my hip. Out of the corner of my eye, I see a disgusting brown eyeball roll towards his open palm on the table ready to catch it.
I can’t help my mortified reaction, “Ewww Scott, that’s gross,” I say, turning out of Tate’s grip trying to suppress my giggling.
“It was Rafe,” Scott defends, pointing his thumb over his shoulder at a cheeky grinned Rafe who shrugs. Tate places the brown eye in the tray and picks up the blue one.
“Think Fast,” he yells, while tossing it into the air by the boys.
Luckily Rafe catches it with little effort saying, “Touchdown! The crowd goes wild,” waving the eyeball around in the air. His comedic act has us all in hysterics letting Ms. Chadwick know we are up to no good.
“Boys down the back, please behave,” she yells. We all chortle behind our hands trying to get back to the task at hand.
“So do you want to touch it?” Tate asks, and I scrunch my face up at the thought. He tries not to laugh at me, “I’ll take that as a no,” and grabs the eyeball. He stands up and side by side, we examine the disgusting specimen. We are able to identify the sclera, the fat and muscle and the cornea. Next, Ms. Chadwick directs us to cut the fat and muscle away. Tate picks up the scissors and cuts away at the pink and white fleshy meat.
“Make sure you both take turns,” Ms. Chadwick’s voice rings through the classroom. Great, I’m going to have to touch the thing. “When you’ve cut all the fat away, you are going to get the scalpel and make an incision in the cornea until a clear liquid is released. This is the aqueous humour. Please be careful. The scalpels are sharp.”
“It’s not that bad, Tamsyn,” Tate says, to me as he holds his hand out to pass me the eye. I take it and nearly drop it.
“Ewww it’s slimy,” I say, which has him laughing.
“Here, I’ll help you,” he offers, and hands me the scalpel so I can take it safely. “You want to cut this part here,” he says, as he points, giving me direction. I carefully push the scalpel into the slimy flesh and I’m horrified when the liquid escapes running down my fingers.
“Ugh, this is so gross,” I say, while Tate is trying not to laugh at me. “Glad you find me funny,” I say trying not to laugh back at him.
“Next, use the scalpel to make a small incision through the sclera in the middle of the eye then finish cutting with your scissors. You will end up with two halves if you’ve done it correctly,” Ms. Chadwick instructs.
“Since you’ve got the scalpel, you might as well make the incision. I’ll use the scissors,” Tate suggests, so I cut a slice on the side of the eye, place the scalpel on the tray and hand the eye back to Tate. Our fingers lightly touch sending a shockwave through my hand. Our eyes connect and he grins. Did he feel it too? Tate gets to work cutting around the eye and now we have two pieces with the cornea on one side.
“Class, I do hope you are keeping up. You should have the cornea separated by now. I want you to place it on your tray. Then you are going to cut and listen to the sound it makes,” Ms. Chadwick says, issuing our next instructions.
“You can do the honours,” Tate tells me, as he points to the cornea part.
“You’re so kind,” I tell him sarcastically. I’m glad he finds my repulsion funny. I pick up the scalpel and cut through the thick cornea which makes a crunching side as it breaks. Gross. I never would have thought cow eyes could be this disturbing. I can hear Rafe and Scott cracking jokes behind me with their eyeball. They must find it as funny as Tate does. Ms. Chadwick fires out more instructions. Tate and I work together, him helping me when he sees I’m unsure. I think he’s highly amused at how repulsed I am.
“Class, the bell is about to go but we are going to work through. I will excuse you from your following period after lunch so you can eat then,” Ms. Chadwick says, as the bell rings. No one was in a hurry to leave anyway, all too entranced with what we are doing.
Working well together, we manage to get the lens out which I find fascinating. You can hold the lens up to words and see them through it. This dissection thing isn’t as bad as I thought. Don’t get me wrong, it’s pretty gross but in an enthralling way. As the class continues, we find the retina and the optic nerve.
Ms. Chadwick informs us the blind spot is where the retina attaches to the back of the eye. My favourite part is when she explains the Tapetum. It’s a colourful, shiny material which is found behind the retina. It reflects light. It was a pretty end to all the gruesomeness. Without realising how much time has passed, the bell is ringing again for the end of lunch.
I smile at Tate and say, “Thank you, you made class way more bearable.” He shyly smiles at me back.
“Okay class, I want you to wrap all the eyeball material up into paper towels then put them in the rubbish bags coming around. Make sure you don’t forget to wash your hands thoroughly before you leave, especially since you are going to be eating straight after this. You can make your way to the cafeteria and eat quietly there for the next period,” Ms. Chadwick tells us. Tate gathers up all the bits of our cow eye and wraps it up, disposing of it in the plastic bag.
“Man, that was so much fun,” I hear Rafe say to Scott, and I can’t help but giggle. He’s such a child sometimes. We all line up at the sinks taking turns, washing the filthy substance from our hands.
As I’m collecting my bag, Tate asks, with an edge of uncertainty in his voice, “So do you want to eat lunch with us?”
“Of course,” I reply, with a big smile on my face as it’s a no brainer. I don’t want our time together to end yet.
Chapter 10
---Tate---
Our whole class shuffles quietly through the empty halls, headed to the cafeteria. I walk freely beside Tamsyn and it feels so right, with her next to me. I don’t usually see her outside of classes. Yesterday was the exception. I wonder if she would seek me out for no other reason than to hang out. I don’t know. As we all lined up to get our food trays, I let Tamsyn go in front of me. When I see her about to walk away with a sandwich and an apple on her plate, I hook my finger in the collar of her shirt and pull her gently back towards me. She gawks at me, wondering what the hell I’m doing.
