“You’re not anxious?” she asked. At some point, Dr. Singh had told Mom not to ask if I was feeling anxious,
so she’d stopped phrasing it as a direct question.
“I’m fine.” “You’ve been taking your meds,” she said. Again, not a direct question.
“Yeah,” I said, which was broadly true.
I’d had a bit of a crack-up my freshman year, after which I was prescribed a circular white pill to be taken once daily.
I took it, on average, maybe thrice weekly. “You look...” Sweaty, is what I knew she meant.
“Who decides when the bells ring?” I asked. “Like, the school bells?”
You know what, I have no idea. I suppose that’s decided by someone on the superintendent’s staff.”
Like, why are lunch periods thirty-seven minutes long instead of fifty? Or twenty-two? Or whatever?”
Your brain seems like a very intense place,” Mom answered.
It’s just weird, how this is decided by someone I don’t know and then I have to live by it.
Like, I live on someone else’s schedule. And I’ve never even met them.”
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