Page 101 of Until the Ribbon Breaks

“Yeah,” I call down to my mother before stepping fully into my room.

Slipping the bag from my shoulder, I let it fall to the floor as I walk over to my desk. My fingers glide over my laptop before I turn and look out the rain-covered window. I stare off into the gray sky as silence hums in my ears. It’s an abrupt contrast to where I just came from. Chaos and noise are constants at Hopewell. It’s rare that you ever get a moment of peace, and now that I have it, it makes me anxious.

It’s too still.

“Is everything okay?”

My mom steps slowly into my room, and when I push away from the window, I nod.

“I thought you might want this back,” she says, holding out my cell phone.

I bet she meddled through it as well.

“Thanks.” I take the phone, and we fall into an awkward silence that stirs sadness.

I’m home, and yet, I’m so far away.

Why?

I know it shouldn’t be like this, but it is.

It’s the one place I should belong, so why do I feel misplaced?

“Would you like me to fix you some lunch?”

I shake my head as I try not to cry.

Her smile is weak when she says, “Well, I’ll let you settle in,” before she goes back downstairs.

I sit on my bed and power up my phone. When the screen finally comes to life, countless missed calls and texts from Noah appear in my notifications. The last time he reached out to me was nearly a month ago. Scrolling back to the beginning of summer, I start reading through some of the messages.

Noah: You owe me from bailing on me after school yesterday. Maybe we could catch a movie this week. Cool?

Noah: Why aren’t you answering your phone?

Noah: There’s an indie band I’d like to check out that’s performing in a couple of weeks at Spines, that bookstore you told me about. Wanna go?

Noah: What the heck is going on? Are you pissed at me?

I keep flipping through the texts.

Noah: Stopped by your house today. Your mom said you’re away at a photography camp or something like that. Why do I feel like that’s a lie?

I scan through a few more until I hit the last one.

Noah: It was cool knowing you. I’ll leave you alone now.

Falling onto my back, I stare up at the ceiling. Great, the only friend I’ve managed to make at school thinks I ditched him for camp. I know I should call him, but the lie my mother fed him was beyond lame and there is no way he bought it. And right now, I don’t have the energy to try to explain my way out of it.

If only there were some guidebook on how to reenter and adjust back into your old life, it would make this easier. But, then again, if there were, it would probably just say to be honest because mental illness isn’t something that should be kept in the dark.Reduce the stigma and talk.

Whatever.

I watch the blades of the fan as they spin around and around, moving but never really getting anywhere. Just like myself, no matter where I go or what I do or how far I run, life dumps me right back where I started.

But Noah isn’t my only friend anymore. Sitting up, I reach into my back pocket and pull out the three things I’ve been keeping hidden. My two turtles and Sebastian’s cell phone number he stashed in the sofa cushion before he left. I unfold the tiny piece of paper and punch in his contact info, save it, and then call him.

It takes four rings for him to answer. “Hello?”

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