Our first ever Teaser Tuesday!

Okay so, with school starting and stuff, we're basically holding up revisions until the weekend. Until then, we're just going to *think* of what to add and subtract to the plot and stuff like that. We noticed that we haven't really posted one before, and since it's really popular and we're just copy cats (real bad joke), here's a teaser for you.

Kinda long, so yeah...sorryyyy

God help me.

He was looking at me with bated breath--like I was hiding something. I prayed that he would stop the stare that smoldered holes through my skin and that he would wipe the look of pity off his face. I didn't want to be pitied. There was no reason to pity me.

"How was your day so far, Mary?" Mr. Seymour asked. He reminded me of a poodle, with his big wet eyes and black curly hair. It didn't help at all to see that he had a clipboard in front of him, probably waiting to jot something down about what he thought was a horrible day.

I thought that therapy at the hospital was enough. I didn't need therapy on my first day back at school.

"Good," I answered. There was nothing much to it.

"Care to explain what you did so far today?" Specifically? I thought so. By this time, I should probably get used to these kinds of questions--where the answers had to be thorough and specific, just the way I despised it.

I sighed. "I woke up. Ate breakfast. Went back to sleep. Woke up again. Ate lunch with my dad, and he drove me here."

"Did you enjoy lunch?" the questions kept coming as he jotted some notes on his clipboard, the sound of his pen scratching on the paper irritated me.

"I guess," was all I said. I learned not to say too much in therapy, because if you did, then they'd keep asking you more questions.

He nodded, acknowledging the fact that I might've been telling the truth. I was smiling, and that was the key to make anyone believe. I looked at him, waiting for the next question.

"Are you excited to be back?" I didn't know what to say to this, especially since I wasn't back for good just yet. Of course, I wanted to be back, but I wasn't sure if I was able to. I sighed and nodded, trying to keep the fake smile on my face. He grinned in return, nodding. "That's brilliant."

Yes, it would've been more brilliant if I could get out of here now, and finally get to sixth period. It was after all, the only reason I was here. I would rather be in English listening to Mr. Colt, who was probably still raving about Robert Frost or Tolstoy, just like I'd remembered three months ago.

"It's good to see you healthy, Mary," Mr. Seymour commented unexpectedly. I widened my eyes, and the back of my head ached. I needed to stop doing that. "I know it must be very hard for you…after what happened."

I've heard that statement more than I wanted to. Yes, it was difficult to cope with, and no, I didn't need someone to even contemplate how hard it was for me. Mr. Seymour hadn't had a clue what I've been through, and if I wasn't so close to God, I would've probably lashed out on him minutes ago.

I nodded anyways, not wanting to be uncouth. I reminded myself no matter how annoying all these people around me were, that they were only trying to help me. I assumed that they cared.

"Are you still in touch with some of your friends?" That was when my smile dropped off of my face. I wasn't sure what had replaced it, but Mr. Seymour looked taken aback. "Never mind that question, Mary. You are eating healthy, aren't you?"

I was sure he asked the question because I was much thinner than I'd used to be. But yet again, how did he know? I’d never been to his small beige office until now. "I'd like to think so," I said, trying to give a variety in my speech so I wouldn't seem mechanic. I'd learned that in therapy, that to avoid looking depressed, you needed to talk with tone and diversity.

"Very nice. Your brother--Noah, is his name?" A picture of my lackadaisical and rebellious little brother entered my mind. I had completely forgotten about him after what happened, and it didn't take a long time for me to see why my parents were so obsessed with grounding him.

I nodded, waiting for his point. "You two still talk? I realized that he's still an eighth grader here at Strathill. Did you talk a lot in school before what happened?" No, not really. Except for the fact that he always seemed to call me nicknames I wasn't really fond of, we didn't really have much contact. But back then--I didn't really remember anything from back then.

"Of course." I hoped that the answer would satisfy him.

"Brilliant," his voice was starting to grow inside my head, and just as I hoped that our little get-together session would end, the door opened with a click.

Both our eyes whipped to the door of the counselor's office, questioning who was at the door.

"You asked to see me?" the boy asked as he poked his head inside of the room. He was looking straight at Mr. Seymour and not at me, but I still could see that something was very familiar in his eyes. I knew that I knew him, and that I just didn't remember his name.

"Oh, are you the TA?" Mr. Seymour asked the boy with sandy-colored hair. He had an odd look that reminded me of a small boy with a tall build. The boy nodded. "Come in." He looked at me then, and he froze, his green eyes sporting a surprised look that made me feel uncomfortable.

Raising both eyebrows, he questioned, "Mary White? Is that you?"

He knew my name--so I must've known him. I looked back at him, not puzzled, but wishing that I knew his name. I didn't want to seem like a shrew by looking at him dead in the eye without even acknowledging him with his name. But yet again, maybe he understood my situation.

"Mary, I assume you know Dillon Forbs?" the name sounded so familiar to me, but I couldn't process the significance of our relationship. He could've been my mortal enemy for all I knew.

I nodded, not wanting to be rude. "I'm sorry; I don't quite remember you clearly."

The boy--Dillon--nodded rapidly, showing his understanding. "Of course, of course. It's okay. It's just really…weird seeing you here."

I didn't take the comment in a bad way, because his eyes were smiling. "Dillon here is going to take you to your sixth period. I guess I'll see you again if you choose to come back?" I wanted to come back since I was already so behind, but I wasn't sure I wanted to see Mr. Seymour in this office again.

"Sure," I said anyways to break the conversation. As I stood up, he shook my hand, then with a concerned look on his face told me to be careful. I was careful now, and I didn't need to be told that.

I exited the room moments later, feeling the fresh air of the school hallway drift into my nose. The moment of liberation only lasted a few seconds when I realized that the school was much larger than I'd remembered a few hours ago. Short term memory loss wasn't helping me with anything.

Dillon stood next to me. "Are you ready to go?" he asked as his eyebrows rose. A picture of him in a place I didn't recognize skidded through my mind, and just like all my random flashbacks, I started remembering him. I nodded, and we started our journey to sixth period--the only class I remembered.

The hallways stretched in many directions and it dizzied me. The only thing keeping me from going insane was this Dillon, who I was extremely curious of. He looked at me, smiling, and I realized that I'd been staring at him. "So how're you, Mary?"

It was a general question. "Fine, I guess."

"You look good," he said, and I flushed. "It's been so long--everyone was worried about you." I looked down, feeling discomfort crawl into my stomach. "Do you remember me at all?"

I paused before answering. "Yes, but very little."

He laughed. "It's good to see you again, Mary. You haven't changed a bit." I wasn't sure what to say, because I'd forgotten about how I was back then. "We missed you. We all really did."

It was hard to believe, since Noah told me that I was very quiet. If I wasn't mistaken, quiet people were nearly invisible. "It's a surprise," he continued. "I never thought that you would come back."

That hit me hard--I didn't know what kind of person I was back then, but the way he pronounced the words made it seem like I was weak, and I didn't like that. "Why?"

He furrowed his eyebrows, as if he was thinking hard. Then, "Well, Mary, you were in a coma."

© 2009 by Serena and Selena Howard