Warning: This work has been rated 16+ for language.
“Rachel!” the door to the girls’ locker room slammed against the white tile as someone walked in. “Rachel!” her voice was worried for some reason. It was probably Hailie. I was in the last locker stall sitting on the toilet seat with the lid down. As she approached, I pulled my legs up to my chest and closed my eyes. “Rachel?” she knocked on the door.
“Yeah?” I squeaked out, barely a whisper.
She let out a relieved sigh, “Coach Tiffany wants you.”
I waited until Hailie left before flushing the toilet and walking out of the stall. As soon as I left the small box I was hit by the harsh reality of the mirror hanging above the sink. Big blue eyes stare back at me with a sad look. People always tell me I have resting sad face. The water was cold against my hands as I washed with them with cheap pink soap. I tried to tame my frizzy curls but with little success, I gave up and walked outside.
The rest of my P.E. class were walking around the football field outside in their small friend groups. As I hurried to join the slow moving oval I’m stopped by my energetic teacher.
“Hey girly!” Coach Tiff grinned. She wa wearing her usual fitness clothes with her bleach blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail. “Having a bad day?” she asked.
I shake my head, my blonde curls bouncing, “Nah, I’m fine,” and continued walking to avoid more conversation.
I love Coach Tiffany even if it doesn’t seem like it. She’s one of the few positive people I know in this shit hole. And she got in an argument with the principle and won so that we can listen to music while working out.
I took my earbuds out and plugged them in my ears. The beautiful sound of FXXX IT by BIGBANG filled my ears as I picked up my pace and walked around the field.
Coach Tiffany waved from far away when it was time to go in and dress back into our uniforms. The rest of the class hurried out of the field, leaving me behind. I went to go get my sweater that I left hanging on the fence in the beginning of class. The students usually leave their things by the fence so I wasn’t surprised to see a small black notebook on the gravel.
Oddly curious, I bent down and picked up the notebook. I opened the cover and flipped the pages, feeling the soft paper slid against my thumb. It was blank. Next to where the notebook laid was a blue pen.
I sighed and thought for a minute. I wanted to write in the notebook but I wasn’t sure why. Before I could even ask myself if what I was doing was right, I picked up the blue pen, clicked it and wrote in my cursive writing.
My name is Rachel and I’m not okay.