A Mess

Everything in my life feels so depressing and confusing right now. It's just a complete mess. We're heading into our exam week, and soon schools will be closing. Max has been incredibly helpful in standing up to bullies, and I truly appreciate his support in helping me navigate my emotions. He completed his community service successfully, and of course, I assisted him along the way.

Sitting together in the park, studying side by side, I couldn't contain my frustration any longer. "Everything is just a mess!" I exclaimed to Max, feeling overwhelmed. We had been spending the past month together, and he was adjusting well. "What do you mean, Ms. Teacher?" he asked, setting aside his history book, curious about my outburst. "Literally everything has been chaotic since the day you entered my life. It's like a whirlwind," I explained, standing up and pointing a pencil at him. "So, you're saying I'm like a tornado?" he questioned, pointing at himself. "Yes, exactly! That's how it feels," I replied with a frown, frustrated by the constant chaos.

Seeking answers, I opened up to Max about my struggle with standing up to Ella. "I don't understand why I can't find the courage to confront Ella. I always have something to say, but I just can't seem to stand up to her. Why is that?" I asked, feeling defeated as I sat back down on the bench, burying my face in my arms. Max joined me, offering his perspective. "Maybe it's because you've become accustomed to it. Standing up for yourself feels unfamiliar, and it's easier to let things slide," he suggested, trying to make sense of the situation. I sighed, feeling down on myself. "I feel so bad about myself. I hate being a victim of all this. I hate that I've allowed everything to take a toll on me and become complicit in their games. I've let them get into my head," I confessed, pushing my hair back in frustration.

Max chimed in with an unexpected insight. "You know, your perceived weakness may actually be your strength. When Elizabeth says something hurtful, you choose not to retaliate. You become the bigger person by keeping quiet, even though you're scared of her," he said, offering a different perspective. I scoffed, crossing my arms. "I beg to differ. I'm not afraid of her. I just don't want to hurt her," I replied, looking at Max, my frustration evident.

As I tried to stand up, my leg got caught on something, causing me to stumble and fall face-first. The impact made my left eye throb in pain. Wincing, I attempted to open it, but it was clear that something was wrong. Max rushed to my side, helping me up and expressing concern. "Are you okay?" he asked, assisting me to sit on the bench. "No... my eye hurts," I replied, trying to examine it. Max, analyzing my eye, pointed out, "Your eyes don't look the same size. Your left eye looks bigger than your right eye." Irritated by the situation, I jokingly retorted, "Oh, thank you, Mr. Monkey. Jeez." Max seemed taken aback. "Did I say something wrong? Your eyes are not the same size, meaning the left eye is swollen," he explained. Understanding his intention, I softened my tone. "Let me help you up so that I can escort you to the nearest clinic to make sure nothing is misplaced," he offered, assisting me to stand.

At the clinic, the nurse examined my eye and provided a diagnosis. "Your eye hit a hard surface, causing it to swell. It should return to normal in about 3-4 days," she explained, handing me an eye patch and some eye drops. Thanking her for the help, I left the clinic with Max by my side. Reflecting on my upcoming week with one eye covered, Max remarked, "So, you'll be one-eyed for almost the whole week." I couldn't tell if he was asking or stating, so I replied, "Are you asking or telling me? Because I'm not deaf, so I already know. Don't rub it in. This is what I meant when I said you bring messiness into my life."

"Pathetic. How pathetic of you to blame me for all your carelessness," he retorted, his tone dripping with disdain. "It just shows how classy you are," he added sarcastically, emphasizing the irony of the situation.

I couldn't help but add a touché to his remark. "Oh, yes, add a little touché to that too," I quipped, not letting his comment go unanswered.

As I sat across from my dad, who was engrossed in his laptop, he glanced up and noticed my swollen eye. He couldn't resist making a playful comment. "What happened to your eye... wanna be the next Nick Fury?" he teased, referring to the iconic character from Marvel comics. I chuckled at his remark, finding his humor amusing. "Hahaha, you're so funny... I think you should try comedy," I replied, jotting down some notes. Curiosity getting the better of him, he narrowed his eyes to examine my eye more closely. "Oh, really? Could I be the next Trevor Noah? Seriously though, what happened to your eye?" he asked, his tone laced with genuine concern. Putting on a dramatic display, I gestured with flair. "I fell, crushed to the ground, and boom, my eye met its doom," I exclaimed, adding a touch of theatricality to my explanation. Rolling his eyes, my dad suggested, "You know, you could simply say that you fell and hit your eye on something." Playfully, I responded, "What's the fun in that? I should showcase that I live with an English guru, the master of masters." I praised my Aunt Marica, giving credit to her language skills. My dad, taking pride in the compliment, chimed in, "Oh, come on, it's a pleasure." However, I quickly clarified, "I didn't mean you... I meant Aunt Marica."

Suddenly, my dad crossed his arms and made an unexpected proclamation. "Marica, we need to have an English competition," he declared firmly. Taken aback and clearly confused, Aunt Marica asked, "What??? Why?!!" Shocked by my dad's outburst, she tried to comprehend his sudden insistence. Dad, seemingly offended, replied, "Bell here said you are the master of masters when it comes to English." Aunt Marica, staying composed, responded, "Well, it's not my fault that your descendant chose to bestow upon you such accurate information." As she spoke, she assisted our helper with some flower arrangements, showcasing her versatility. I couldn't help but interject, "You see what I meant when I said Aunt is an English guru?" I defended Aunt Marica's expertise. My dad, clearly satisfied with his statement, argued, "She's just using her little primary English. Being a guru doesn't mean knowing big words." Aunt Marica maintained a neutral face but countered, "I beg to differ... I clearly do not recall stating that English gurus only know bombastic words. So please do kindly excuse yourself before you bite your own head." Her calm and composed demeanor left my dad momentarily speechless.

"I am doing fine Max and i do not think i can make it to that party ..i am not a party person ," i said to Max who kept on insisting on me coming to this house party which was hosted by some friend whose name i did not remember ,"Oh come on Ellon ,it will be fun," he said again ,"1.Do not call me Ellon 2.Since you insist so much ,okay i will get ready then tell my aunt to drop me off," i said walking downstairs to Aunt ,who was working in the study room with dad ,"Wow finally you agreed ,do not bother dressing up , i have just the right outfit for you in my little closet ," he said."Why does that sound creepy ."Because it's meant to be creepy Ellon,"he said before hanging up. My first ever high school party ...can't wait!