by R. Freeman

Created on: August 09, 2011   Last Updated: August 10, 2011

Carla didn’t hesitate when Mrs. Green asked her if she’d studied at all for the History test. 

“Yes, I did study.”  She held her breath and waited for a response, prepared to tell another lie if necessary.  She didn’t exhale until her teacher turned and walked away in frustration.

Carla hadn’t studied for a test since fourth grade, a month before her father was killed in a car accident.  She’d never forget how he’d made up a rhyme to help her remember all of the bones in the human body.  She aced the test and he’d taken her to Coldstone Creamery to celebrate.  They were both lactose intolerant but that didn’t stop them from gorging.

“Well I’m not sure what constitutes ‘studying’ in that head of yours young lady but if you don’t want to repeat eighth grade, you’d better study for and pass the next test.”  Mrs. Green still had her back to Carla.  She meant well and had been patient with her all year but was becoming a lot less lenient as the time for final exams approached.  She warned her incessantly that doing well the first year of high school would be impossible if she hadn’t developed effective study habits.

“I will be better prepared for the next test” Carla replied.  It was easier to lie when you didn’t have to look into the eyes of the lie recipient.  She gathered her books and quickly stuffed them into her backpack. 

“How is your mother Carla?  Please tell her I said hello and that we missed her at the brunch on Saturday.”

“Sure, I’ll relay the message,” Carla replied and walked out of the room. 

It had been at least two years since her mother attended a brunch hosted by the ladies from the church.  But that didn’t deter them from sending her invites.  She knew that the only way her mother would even consider going to another of those stuffy gossip sessions was if she was in a manic state, the result of not taking her medication, and restless with absolutely nothing else to do.  She would go out of sheer boredom and pretend to be interested in all the latest gossip.  Three hours later she would come home and complain about how disgusted she was with the entire human race and their phony, full-of-themselves, pompous, arrogant attitudes.  She would rant for days about how she would love for one of those self-centered beauty queens to walk in her shoes for a while.

 ‘Being bipolar and ADD is like walking through life backwards.  Everyone else seems to know where they’re headed, they set goals and meet them.  Me, I wake up and never know how my day is gonna play out – will I walk around in a fog all day or have a decent day of clear thinking and light mood.  I can’t seem to process what’s going on around me while it’s happening but after it’s already over and done. Either I’ve impulsively said something stupid and embarrassing or something brilliant and intriguing.  I just never know what to expect and that becomes unbearable.’

 Carla would just listen and wait for her mother to fall asleep. 

Learn more about this author, R. Freeman.
Click here to send this author comments or questions.