I wake up in a different place—to be clear, I realize I’m in the infirmary. What happened? I wince as a sudden headache strikes, and I turn to see the school nurse, Mrs. Lopez, looking at me.
“Good, you’re awake, Shantal. How are you feeling?” she asks, concern.
I slowly sit up on the bed. “My head aches a bit. What happened?  I think I was in the cubicle. How did I end up here?” I'm confused.
“Oh, one of the students found you unconscious. I’m just glad he found you,” Mrs. Lopez replies.
My brow furrows in response.  “He?  I was in the women’s cubicle, and the door was locked. What’s a male student doing in the women’s cubicle?” That's quite suspicious.
“I know you have a lot of questions, but you need to rest first, okay?”  Mrs. Lopez says, giving me a small smile. I take a deep breath and nod.
I reach for my bag, which is on the bedside table, and search for my phone. “Where’s my phone?” 
“Your phone?” She raises an eyebrow at my question.
“I had my phone when I was in the cubicle," holy crap, did I lose it?
“No one handed me your phone when he brought you here."
It’s impossible. I immediately get out of bed and grab my bag from the bedside table.  “Who brought me here, Mrs. Lopez? I need their name, and I need my phone back.”  There’s no password on my phone.  Wait, hold on.  My phone glitched and the screen cracked earlier, right?  That means it might still be damaged, or even worse, maybe it was just my imagination. I need to get my phone back from whoever has it.
Mrs. Lopez grimaces at my question.  “The problem is, I have no idea what the student’s name is.  He’s new, perhaps a transfer student. I’ve never seen him on campus before.”
My shoulders slump at her response. “I need my phone for school projects and activities, Mrs. Lopez.”  I hope whoever has my phone, I do hope it’s not working after the bathroom incident. “But since you said you don’t know the student, I’ll find him myself. I need a description of what he looks like.”
After getting a description of the guy and using my sketching talent, I leave the infirmary and head to my classroom, where I find my teacher, Mr. Kellan, already teaching.  How long was I unconscious?  It doesn’t matter now. I hurry into the classroom while Mr. Kellan lectures. But I stop walking toward my seat when he suddenly stops teaching, noticing my arrival.
“Miss Lombardi, why are you late?” By the tone of his voice, I know he’s not pleased with my late arrival.
“I was in the infirmary, sir,” I reply, before taking my seat.
“Meet me in my office after class,” he says, turning his attention away from me before resuming his lecture.
I sigh and listen to the rest of my lectures throughout the day. As soon as class ends at 4:30, I head directly to his office. He’s busy on his phone before noticing my presence in his office.  He looks up from behind his desk, putting down his phone.
“You’re here. Have a seat,” he says, indicating the chair in front of his desk. But I don’t move.
“Why exactly do you want me to meet you after class?” I ask, staying where I am. Is it  because I was late or something more than that? 
He heaves a deep sigh. “I know we rarely talk inside the house—”
“Is that why you needed me in your office today?” my voice devoid of emotion.
“Shan…” 
“Whatever relationship we have, let’s keep it that way until I graduate, or perhaps for the rest of our lives, Teacher Kellan,” I say before leaving his office.
I try to avoid Mr. Kellan while I’m studying here in Montreal. We’ve never been close growing up, and I want to keep it that way. I’ve become aloof towards my two brothers after what happened ten years ago.  The one blames me, and the other ignores me.  I’ve chosen to not talk to them or pay any attention to them, rather than opening up the wounds from our past.  That’s what I’m good at, ignoring what happened to avoid the pain.
I try to calm myself as I walk down the hallway, but then I suddenly see Charlotte, with her friends beside her.  She’s not my classmate, but we’re in the same grade.  She’s in the second section, and I’m in the first. And I freeze where I stand as she approaches me.
“Didn’t I tell you I don’t want to see your face today?  Are you defying me, or challenging me now, Shan?” Charlotte says, stepping closer.  I can’t seem to move my feet.
“She’s clearly defying you, girl,” Selene says, standing next to Charlotte.
“How about we teach her a lesson?” Lian says, grinning, with her arms crossed.
“I agree,” Drea says.  She’s the daughter of a politician.  She agrees with everything.
“You’re not my parents,” I say to Charlotte, finding the courage to speak.
“Wow, look at that, she’s talking back to us,” Lian says, laughing.
In a flash, Charlotte’s hand lands on my cheek.  A loud slap I didn’t expect.  She’s never slapped me before, not until now. Tears well up in my eyes, but I hold them back.  Don’t let them fall, Shantal.
“Since you’re answering back to me, why not use that for something else?” Charlotte says, smirking, before looking at her friends. “Girls, hold her still. We’re going to the gymnasium,” she adds as her friends grab my arms. I don’t fight back or say anything as they take me to the gymnasium, where the basketball team is practicing.
“Hey boys! I have a mission for you to do today,” Charlotte says, interrupting the basketball team’s practice. “Grab all the basketballs balls and try to hit Shan.” My eyes widen at her words. I have a phobia.  “And girls,” she looks at her friends, “put her in the center of the court.”  This time, I try to pull away from her friends, who are holding my arms.
“Let go of me!” I yell as they drag me to the center of the court. Damn these bullies! 
“Remember this, Shan, if you try to run, your punishment will be worse than today,” Charlotte says, her voice laced with a hint of malice. “You know me better,” she adds, making me freeze where I stand.
My hands clench into fists at my sides as I stand still. I know why she’s doing this to me.  She’s not bullying me for no reason.  I look at the basketball team in front of me, just a few feet away.  They all have balls in their hands.  I hate balls. Fuck this… I have a phobia because of them.
“Go on boys, hit he—”
“What the hell is going on here?” I don’t move as I hear a familiar voice behind me.
“Coach Killian,” one of the basketball players says. The team stops looking at me and their attention is now on their Coach. 
“I asked what’s going on here,” Coach Killian says, his voice is laced with authority. Then I feel a pair of eyes behind me. “Shantal, what are you doing here?”
I turn to finally face him and look up, meeting his cold eyes. “Stop asking the obvious answer to your questions when you knew all along what's happening." then I look back to where Charlotte stands.  “I’m here to get hit, right Lotty?" then I look at the basketball team. "So, go on and hit me to satisfy Charlotte." 
---
Patricius: Hey, Syntho?
Syntho: Yeah?
Patricius: Get out of my head.
Syntho: Seriously? You are the one who created me, _Patricius. I'm the fictional character you created that you can't stop thinking about so deal with it. I'm stuck in your mind.
Patricius: Argh!