Helen’s Bridge. Even if you don’t live in Asheville, NC you’ve probably heard of it.

It was also known as Zealandia’s bridge, which connects to Zealandia castle. So, why do they call it Helen’s bridge?

The story I grew up with, was a woman named Helen lived in the castle with her daughter. One day, the castle caught fire while Helen was putting clothes out on the line. Her baby died in the fire and Helen could never forgive herself for not being able to save her child. So, she walked to the bridge and hung herself.

Now, I’ve heard several different versions of the story. Some say Helen lived in the castle, that she lived on the grounds of the castle, there’s even a version that say Helen was a mistress to the castle owner. I don’t know which one is true, never asked her.

Someone even told me that Helen never existed; that a man who worked for the castle died up there somehow and that’s who haunts the grounds.

Either way, someone died around that area, and now people claim to see things.

Legend says if you go to Helen’s bridge, you’ll see her there, in her white gown; asking where her child is. It’s also said that if you go up at midnight and call out, ‘Helen come forth’, three times, she’ll show up. I’ve heard several people say their car has stalled there or they had some type of car issue.

I have never had car trouble there. And YES, I’ve been there. A few times actually. Even though it has a scary story linked to it, the bridge is beautiful in its own way. I’ve also never gone up there after dark, nor have I called out to her. I’m not going to either. I’ve got enough problems. So, I can’t say I’ve actually seen, heard, or felt anything there. Thank God.

My main problem, when I do visit, is that someone always pops up out of the bushes. My number one question is, WHY ARE YOU PEOPLE IN THE BUSHES? You know what, strike that, I don’t want to know. But I’ll have to say, if memory serves me right, EVERY TIME I’ve gone, someone has popped out of a bush or out of the woods. It’s the most random thing, it’s also very awkward when you make eye contact.

They also have the nerve to look at you like YOU’RE crazy. Hello, sir or madam, who just randomly fell out of the woods. How’s it going?

One particular day, a good friend of mine, who loves ghost hunting, ventured to the bridge with me to do some filming. I was under the bridge filming while she was off filming something else. In all honestly, I was filming for my YouTube channel. You can find that video below.

CLICK HERE FOR YOUTUBE VIDEO

I was looking straight up at the bridge when I heard the bushes near me moving. I turned to see a man and his dog step through the trees. We made that awkward eye contact I mentioned earlier and then he veered off in the opposite direction.

I turned back to the bridge and listened to their footsteps disappear. I had a clear shot of my friend who was also filming, I could get her attention if I wanted to but I’d have to shout, she was so far from me. I peered through my lens to make sure I was getting a good shot when the leaves behind me started rustling.

Whatever it was, it was coming up behind me. Naturally, being where I was and being who I am, there were only two scenarios I could come up with at that point. Either that man and his dog snuck up behind me to kill and/or kidnap me or it was Helen. It took a bit to muster up the courage to look behind me. When I did, there was no one there. And of course, everything fell quiet.

Yep. If I can just make it to my car, I promise to never come here again.

I turned back around to yell at my friend when the leaves started rustling behind me again. And no, it wasn’t the wind. There was no wind.

Against my better judgement, I wheeled around to look. Every movie I have ever watched, has taught me better than this. I let myself down.

Again, there was nothing there. But the leaves were still rustling. It had been years since I had sprinted, but I was entertaining the thought. I glanced down, bewildered at this point. I saw it then. Weaving himself through the leaves, right at my feet, was a tiny little mole.

Dude, really?

I watched as this tiny little thing sniffed around for food and then disappeared under the leaves.

​Well, cute as he was, that made my heart hurt. AND CUT! We’re done for the day. 

It came the time that every adult dreaded, feared, and despised; I had to have my wisdom teeth removed. For weeks, even months before having the procedure done, I worried myself sick about it. But the day came, and I had to put on my big girl undies and get everything in order. By that, I mean preparing my husband to handle everything after surgery. 10-1 I wasn’t going to be a good candidate for it.

I remember lying in the chair while they wrapped cords and IV’s around me. They strapped oxygen to my nose and assured me everything would be okay. I got the distinct feeling they were preparing for the worst with all the nonsense strapped to me. I just smiled and pretended it didn’t bother me. Ah, but my face wouldn’t let me lie!

“Are you okay,” one of the nurses asked.

I nodded. I figured telling her I was about to throw up wouldn’t help speed the process along. Then the dentist walked in, he looked at my vitals on the screen and then leaned over me.

“Hey, Laura,” he said, “We’re going to take good care of you. I’m going to start administering the anesthesia—”

The next thing I know, I’m sitting in a random wheelchair, in the middle of a room I’d never seen before. I couldn’t feel my face or anything for that matter. Of course, I was really dazed and sleepy, but that didn’t stop my face from reacting. Occasionally a nurse or the doctor would bend down and look at me, face to face.

You know, even under anesthesia I had boundary issues. It was remarkable.

They wouldn’t say anything, they’d just look at me and then move on. But each time, that prompted me to give them my best ‘why are you here’ look. Normally, it would have been toned down a bit, but not with whatever they gave me. They got the full, unadulterated expression. I’m assuming that’s why they didn’t stay close long.

Each time I made a face at them, I could hear someone snicker behind me. It wasn’t until minutes later that I could feel someone’s hand rubbing my shoulder.

I turned to give whatever pervert that had their hands on me an awful look, only to find my husband.

Hello.

I don’t know how he got there, or how long he had been there, maybe the whole time? He was, however, enjoying the show my facial expressions were putting on.

Then came the time to leave. Which meant I had to walk to the door assisted. I wasn’t sure who was in charge, but someone needed to tell them this was a bad idea.

“Okay,” the nurse said, “Do you think you can stand up?”

She’s clearly never read any of my blogs.

I remember slipping my foot out of the footrest, I leaned forward to push myself up but out of nowhere, the carpet hurdled itself towards me. Rude.

“Okay, maybe not just yet,” the nurse called out as she caught me.

I tried to tell you.

My husband’s still giggling.

Finally, they got me to the car. My husband was starting the car when he looked at the prescription they had given me. I told him earlier that if he had any questions afterwards, to contact our pharmacist, Teresa. He had a question of course and asked me. I stared at him for a moment, wondering how he thought I could answer him. I looked like some odd version of a zombie chipmunk. Bloody gauze was stuffed in every corner of my cheeks. Not to mention, I was only working on 2% brain power at that point and all that juice was being used up to keep myself from drooling.

Bless my husband's heart, he goes through a lot because of me.

I did have enough brain power left to ask for his phone, where I then typed out specific instructions on where to call Teresa, what to ask her, and what to do from that point.

When I handed him back the phone, he stared at it for a while before he looked back up at me.

“Uh— you want me to call Teresa?”

I could not have been any more specific in my instructions. I nodded, all I wanted to do was lay down. He nodded back, looking a little concerned and a lot confused.

It wasn’t until later that night that I could form a decent thought. My husband came by and checked on me periodically. Right before bed, he asked me what I remembered from that day. Which wasn’t much. I then asked him how I got in the recovery room and how long I had been there. He informed me that I had gotten out of the surgical chair on my own, got in the wheelchair where they rolled me into the recovery room, and then called him back to sit with me.

Ladies and gentlemen, that was a lie. I wasn’t conscious until at least 15 minutes AFTER my husband entered the recovery room. I know. I was there. But everyone else was convinced I had done this on my own. Maybe they took some anesthesia juice too?

But he continued to tell me that they had asked me a whole bunch of questions before I was ‘fully’ awake, to which I answered truthfully. God help us all. They don’t call it truth serum for nothing. I don’t remember the questions or my answers.

“At least I got the prescription thing figured out,” I mumbled, thinking back to the specific instructions I had typed out earlier.

A smile stretched across my husband’s face, “Do you want to see what you typed?”

​Saved onto this man's phone, was the following text I had sent him under anesthesia.
 
Akdi; jdifkjaa; Teresa ki ewoir
Jkjdiafkel oaahudojkjk ihikdiofo555
Dja4574 aodhfodljdodj dldioas100
 
I worked so hard on that too.  

It was lunch time and T and I wanted nothing more than to leave work for a while. We hopped in my car and rode to the nearest place that served quick hot dogs and hamburgers. On the ride there we talked a lot about different things, I can’t remember what. But when we entered the drive thru, for whatever reason, we fell quiet.

I pulled up to the speaker and waited until they asked for my order.

“Yeah, can I get a hamburger all the way? With fries. Then, I’ll take a hot dog with fries.”

“That’ll be $9.75,” the voice thru the speaker called.

I couldn’t pull forward because the car in front of me was still waiting on their food. But through all the noise from the cars, I could hear a dog barking. Well, it really wasn’t a dog, it was a human barking like a dog. It sounded like it had rabies. I glanced in my side mirror to find a car waiting in line behind us. There were two guys in the front seat, both laughing. The driver stuck his head out of his window and barked again—at me.

And people ask why I don’t go out much.

T hadn’t even noticed him yet. When he noticed I was looking at him through my mirror, he shouted, “I’ve got a hot dog you can suck on.”

Yep, he’s a sick dog alright. Actually, I don’t want to degrade dogs like that. He was just sick.

I rolled my window up and looked ahead, ignoring his shouts and random spurts of barking. I hoped the car in front of us moved quickly. I wondered if T would say anything about his comment.

Queue in T’s response.

She looked straight at me and asked, “Is that a dog barking?”

I turned to her in disbelief, how had she not been kidnapped yet?

I told her what was happening, she looked in her mirror in disgust. The car in front of us moved and we paid for our order and took it.

We had planned to eat there in the parking lot but after the incident with Cujo, I decided we better go somewhere else. We drove to the closest mall and parked. While we were there eating, T kept mentioning how disgusting they were and how awful it was to do that. I agreed.

But I was genuinely more worried about the lack of T’s alertness in some situations, namely this one.

I then came up with an amazing idea, I’ll blame my daddy’s mean streak. I had been glancing up in my rear-view mirror ever since we parked, I didn’t want them or anyone else sneaking up on us. No one was there nor had been there ever since we parked.

Knowing this, I shouted, “Oh my gosh, T. They just parked right behind us.”

She almost dropped her burger! She thrashed around trying to find them in her side mirror. I was laughing too hard to hide it anymore. She looked over at me, stunned that I’d tricked her like that. I don’t know why; we’ve been friends for years.

​Stay alert T, stay alert. 

If you went to a public school, you know all too well that everyone is expected to fall into a ‘click’. A click would basically be your family for the remainder of your school year. If you change said ‘click’, your life would probably be a lot harder from that point on. That’s just me looking in from the outside though, I never had a click or fell into one. If I had to say I was part of a click, it would probably be the outcast one.

That being said, there were different types. You had your jocks, preps, emo, redneck, and I’m sure there’s more. One school year, the kids in my school basically (I think) just lost their minds. Each click had a beef with another, sometime during the school year. I don’t know why. But most beefs were settled in a matter of days or weeks.

One in particular beef that stands out in my mind that year, was the beef between the rednecks and the emo’s (they were also called skater boys). In an amazing turn of events, I know why this beef was started because I was there when it happened.

I was walking down the hallway towards the cafeteria (notice the trend?) when I noticed a group of skater boys hanging out around the doorway of the cafeteria. They weren’t messing with anyone or being disruptive, they were just hanging out talking to each other. Then a couple of guys from the redneck group, donned in their camo and Carhartt attire, walked out of the cafeteria. Now, I’m not sure if something happened before this or if the guy just wanted to be a brute (disclaimer: I’m not saying all rednecks are brutes, I happen to know and love several.) But this guy walked right up to one of the tiniest skater boys they had, picked him up by the neck, and body slammed him into the tile floor. My mouth flew open in response. The guy walked away laughing while the poor kid gathered himself with the help of his friends.

School is rough. I hated it.

Needless to say, that unleashed an all-out war between the rednecks and the skater boys. It affected everyone involved in those clicks, even if they hadn’t been at the cafeteria that day. Each group had at least a few guys that got jumped, several fights broke out all over school for the next few weeks. Senseless.

I (as you may have guessed) didn’t involve myself, for a number of reasons. I had friends from both clicks, I didn’t want anyone getting jumped or hurt. So, I waited and hoped for it all to die down soon, before someone really got hurt.

That year, during first period I was a teacher’s aide. Basically, I did chores for the teacher during that time. One of those responsibilities was to take the morning ‘roll’ up to the front office. Like any other morning, I gathered the names of all the students that had bothered to show up for class and readied them to go to the front office. The classroom was located in the basement, there were only a few classrooms down there, so it was pretty much deserted at times.

The bell rang at 8am, the roll was taken by 8:02am, and I stepped out of the door with it, no later than 8:05am. When I stepped out the door, I was staring at the paperwork I had to turn in. I heard the door lock behind me when I shut it. You see, during these times, school shootings and bomb threats were a major worry and most doors locked from the inside after they were shut. The only way you got back in was to knock and hope someone heard you.

Someone’s voice caught my attention seconds after I heard the lock fall into place. Which confused me, no one should be down here because it’s after 8am and classes had started. I looked up to see the school resource officer standing in front of me.

“You stay right there,” he told me.

I felt one of my eyebrows raise. Before I could stop my facial expressions, I had already given him the ‘is there a problem?’ look. No need to answer, I figured it out for myself. I looked to the right, where I would be exiting to go to the staircase. There, a group of rednecks stood, blocking the entrance. They were puffed up like something had offended them, pointing, and threating the other end of the hallway. I turned to my left to see a group of skater boys, doing the exact same thing. They were also blocking the only other exit in the place.

Are you serious? 8am. 8am is when you decide to do this?

The resource officer pointed to both groups, turning his back to me.

“Now I’m telling you guys, break it up right now.”

What are you going to do, I thought? Suspend them? Each group had at least ten boys. This was going to be a massacre, and we were right in the middle of it. I pressed myself up against the door. Reaching behind me, I jiggled the door handle, only to remember that it was locked.

I didn’t think I could hate school more than I already did.

“I’m gonna kick you into the dirt,” someone shouted.

Never thought I’d go out like this.

“I said cool it you guys,” the officer warned.

I rapped on the door with my knuckles the best I could. Let me in, let me in, let me in! No one heard it.

“You started this,” someone from the redneck group yelled.

Well, actually sir, you did. Thought it, didn’t say it.

The officers radio blared something, he reached up and rested his hand on it. I could never tell what they were saying on those things.

“Let’s finish this.”

“Everyone just stay where you’re at,” the officer said, resting his hand on his weapon.

I’m kicking the door like a mule now.

Then, to my relief, there was a rush of teachers that flooded the hallway from the right stairwell. They along with the principal, started escorting the first group upstairs with them. Several teachers passed by us to escort the second group up the stairs. The principal made his way to the officer.

“We got here as quick as we could,” the principal said.

Ah, that’s what came through the radio. The principal glanced down at me. If it tells you anything, I was so known for not getting involved in fights, he didn’t even question why I was there.

I’m sure my pale white—ghostly complexion, mixed with bulging eyes, crumpled attendance sheet, and a permanent body indentation on the door behind me, spoke volumes.

Glad you’re here sir, could you take this roll up to the office with you? I’m leaving.

​AND THEY STILL DIDN’T OPEN THE DOOR!

​In middle school, we had something called Earth Day. It was kind of like Field Day, where you stayed outside all day. During Earth Day however, you learned different things about the world. This geek loved it. There were different stations where you could learn different things. There was a station about the different types of soil, another station about different types of rocks, a station about bee’s, and more.

But that year, the number one thing to do, was ride the got air balloon. It was a tethered ride, but to all of us middle schoolers, it was the best thing ever.

I was standing in line with a few of my friends, waiting to get into the basket of this hot air balloon. We waited for a long time. I watched as time after time, people floated up for a bit and then came back down.

Now, you have to understand that, it was a different place when I was in school. You could do stuff like this without people freaking out about safety regulations. Heck, when I was younger, we had that metal slide in kindergarten that was a story tall. You slid down this metal slide that was hotter than the sun time and time again. No one worried that you’d get hurt. If you did fall off, it was no one’s fault but yours. And IF we fell off, we just walked it off.

This was the same kind of thing. If the rope broke and you floated away, well, you got in line for it.

Good times, good times.

There was one last group loading up, then it was our turn. I remember there was this guy in charge of it and all he would tell people that asked about the ride was, ‘As long as the weather permits, we will keep doing it.’ I had no idea what that meant unless he was talking about rain. I could see that. I just kept thinking; my parents would freak if they knew.
The basket held about 4 students and the guy that flew the balloon. I watched as they all piled in and the guy pulled the lever that shot flames into the top.

When I got in line, I was so excited for this ride, that I had made my mind up. Nothing was going to stop me from riding this thing.

Before the balloon could leave the ground a gust of wind whipped through. I watched as this huge hot air balloon was caught in this gust of wind and was thrust sideways, toppling over to the ground. The balloon itself crashed forcefully tipping the basket over, tossing people out. There were several screams from those inside. The fabric of the balloon seemed to melt into the ground when it collapsed.

I stood corrected. There were a few things that could stop me from riding.

People from all over the place rushed over to help. Somehow, they got the balloon upright and floating again. No one was hurt. I assumed they’d stop the ride right then. It was just to dangerous to fly this thing. I was wrong.
To my surprise, the man who oversaw the line looked at me and said, “You’re up. Let’s go.”

Sir, did that balloon hit you when it crashed down?

But as I said, those were different times. To my own surprise, I ACTUALLY GOT ON and I LOVED IT.

When I got home, I told my parents what had happened. As I laid out this vivid recreation of my day, I can only explain my parent’s expressions as blank. It was the kind of parent expression that hid what they were really thinking as I talked. Deep down they were probably screaming inside but remained calm on the outside. When I finished, my fathers only response was a flat, “Huh.”

My mother, blessed the woman, looked straight at me and said, “Well, I’m glad you had fun.”

What she meant was, ‘Well, I’m glad you didn’t die.’

​The most important thing I learned about Earth that day, was that Mother Nature does what she wants. You’re just going along for the ride.

​I was still in my first week of fostering little Corduroy, a four-week-old grey mouse, when the unthinkable happened. Corduroy had come from a small litter of little grey mice just like him, but the rest were girls and obviously they couldn’t stay together. We didn’t need anymore babies. So, Corduroy was batching it up at my house until he got adopted. He had his little wheel, little bowls, little mouse house, and fresh white bedding. Everything about it was so cute.

He was my very first mouse and I had a lot to learn. I remember it clearly, that night before I went to bed, I slipped a small strawberry into his cage as a surprise. They’re nocturnal, so they play all night and sleep all day. For the most part. I felt good that he’d love his surprise.

When I got up the next morning, I went to Corduroy’s cage just to peek in on him. Did you know mice are even cuter when they are asleep?

Unfortunately, I wasn’t greeted by a cute little sleeping grey mouse. Instead, I was greeted by blood. Blood. There were blood stains all throughout his cage. That white fresh bedding I had mentioned before was stained from one end of the cage to the other. My heart jumped into my throat.

What could have happened? Nothing could get into his cage, I made sure of that. So, did he have some type of episode during the night? Did he get sick? How could such a little mouse, have this much blood?

I ripped the top off the cage and threw it. I pulled his mouse house up, but he wasn’t there. I began to gently sift through the bedding until I found him curled up. I’ll be honest, when I pulled him out of the bedding, I thought for sure he would be dead. How could he not be? But as soon as I cupped my hand around him, he began moving. I pulled him up quickly to look him over. He seemed quite startled.

Get in line.

From what I could see, there was no blood on his coat. Just a startled little mouse. I flipped him over to look at his belly. Nothing. Just little feet flailing about. Sorry, Corduroy. There wasn’t a drop of blood on him, he seemed fine.

My next thought was, did he throw up blood? Do mice throw up? I didn’t know! I was going to have to call someone. Then the thought occurred to me, what if something else was in his cage and it died. Even though I knew nothing could have gotten in, I searched away. I gently filtered through the bedding again until I came across something I could only describe as a small, bloody, organ of some sort.

WHAT WAS HAPPENING?

I was beyond freaked out at this point as I held this ‘organ’ in my other hand. There was nothing else in the cage! What did Corduroy do, eat whatever it was and leave an organ as a warning?

It wasn’t until I got a faint whiff of strawberry, that I realized what had happened. What I was holding in my other hand was not a small organ, but what was left of the inside of the strawberry I had left for him the previous night.

Apparently, little Corduroy enjoyed is SO MUCH that he felt the need to spread the juice all over his cage. And leave some for later. I dropped the left-over strawberry back into the cage with a loud exhale.

For a brief moment, the thought crossed my mind that maybe I should stop writing thrillers.

I turned to Corduroy, who had grown still in my other hand. There he sat, clinging to my thumb, judging me and my life choices up until that point.

I couldn’t blame him though. I’m not sure what I would have done if someone had jerked my front door open, rushed in, and jerked me out of my bed while I slept. Then to add insult to injury, flip me over and yell, “Are you okay?”

​Maybe I will try another genre. 

T and I had agreed to meet after work to go shopping. T decided that she’d stop and get milkshakes for us and then meet me. I was waiting in the parking lot when T called me.

“I got the milkshakes,” she told me, “I’m on my way.”

I ended the call and began to play on my phone. She wasn’t even five minutes away from me, the milkshake place was just up the road. I don’t think it was a full minute before my phone rang again. T was calling me. When I answered, her voice was a little shaky.

“What’s wrong,” I asked.

“I’ve just been in an accident,” she told me, “I need you to come get me. My car is totaled.”

Wait. What!

“Are you okay,” I shouted, starting my car up.

“Yeah, I just need you to pick me up.”

She was just two minutes away from me up the road. When I pulled into the parking lot, I was able to take in the situation. Someone had t-boned the front of her car coming out of the very parking lot I was parked in. The front end of her car was smashed, just crumpled into itself. Both the passenger side door and the driver’s side door were open, both air bags had deployed, and smoke shot out of the car from the hood and the interior.

I panicked a little, how could T be okay when her car looked like that? Then I noticed T standing at the back of her car. She looked okay given the situation, no blood or bruising that I could see. She was waiting for cars to pass by so she could walk across to me. EMS had already arrived. She was fuming, I could see it. It was written all over her face. Then I noticed she was holding a milkshake in both hands.

“I saved the milkshakes,” she told me when she reached me.

“Are you okay,” I asked, avoiding the milkshake.

“Yeah. Here, I got your milkshake.”

Now normally, at this point most people would be worried that she had hit her head and had a concussion or was in shock. But this was normal T. She had wanted a milkshake all day, during work that was all she had talked about.

I took the milkshake from her, “What happened?”

She explained that the guy just didn’t see her and smashed right into her. She was really fine and so was he. God had His hand in that, judging from the look of both cars.

“I need a ride,” she told me.

Well, duh, was I gonna leave her there?

“That just makes me so made,” she went on.
 
I noticed an EMS worker approach us, he waited for her to finish.

“All I wanted was a milkshake,” she continued, “He better be glad these didn’t spill. What am I going to do with all the Halloween stuff in my trunk?”

It was October.

“He just didn’t see me,” she said, “Now we can’t go shopping. I’ve got to call our insurance. But we’ve got milkshakes.”
I watched the man’s face as she continued.

“I’m going to have to drive the truck tomorrow,” she said, “I’ve got clothes back there too! What am I going to do with all my stuff in the trunk? The cars going to be towed.”

“Are you alright,” the man asked.

“Oh yeah,” she told him, shaking her head assuredly, “I’m always like this.”

It was at that point, judging by the look on his face, I knew they were going to search her car for drugs.

“I think he’s asking if you have any broken bones or if you’re bleeding,” I told her, suppressing my want to face palm.

“Oh yeah, no, I’m fine. I’m just going to drink my milkshake.”

The man didn’t know whether to put her on a gurney or call for backup.

“She’s fine,” I assured him, “She really is like this. I’ll take her home.”

He wasn’t convinced but he turned and walked back to the car. I looked over at T to find her sucking as much of that milkshake as she could through her straw.

​Well, at least the news crew hadn’t arrived with cameras yet. 

​Once a year in elementary school, we had Career Day. That’s when all the adults from every profession you could think of, came to the school, set up a booth, and told you all about their job. Except for Zoologists, not sure why they never came; cause that’s what I wanted to do. Any who--

I honestly don’t remember much about it; I’ve slept since then. But I do remember the Army had some people come by to tell us about what they do. This group had a whole classroom to themselves. To this day, I have no idea why I walked into that classroom. I guess I decided that I needed to know what it was all about. I didn’t get all the details, but I got the main key point, which was, I am in no way, shape, or form, fit to be all I can be.

I’d like to make it clear that I have the highest respect for those in the Army, Marines, Navy, and Air Force. They’re the reason we have and keep our freedom. You Sir(s) and Madam(s), and even the pups and other animals that are within your organizations, are heroes.

But I’m also an honest person. So, believe me when I say, we’re both better off with me staying out of the service. There is nothing I can do for you, unless you need someone to lay in the fetal position and cry.

When I walked in, there was a group of men and women there talking amongst themselves. There was a man and woman who stood outside the group, I guess they were the leaders? I don’t know what you call them. And then, there was this elderly gentleman, all decorated with shiny pins and buttons on his uniform. His salt and pepper hair was combed back and he reminded me of someone’s grandfather.

When the class filled up with about twenty students, they started their spill. I don’t remember much of it, but I do remember them saying the Army wanted us. I had no idea what for. And that, these people were in something called Boot Camp. The next thing I knew, they had huddled us into a crowd and were now telling us to stand next to each other in rows. Our feet had to be a part, hands behind our back, don’t slouch (I didn’t even know what that meant), and keep your head up.

The older gentlemen looked us over real quick and then pointed to me.

“You,” he said, “You’re going to be the leader.

The woman that I mentioned earlier, who stood away from the crowd, came up to me. She bent down and began to give me instructions, almost as if, she didn’t have a lot of time.

“You’re going to say about face,” she told me.

Then she told me three other things that I needed to say, but by the time we got to the fourth one, I had already forgotten the first.

Uh—could you repeat that? But before I could ask, she stepped back away from me and assumed the position of feet apart, hands behind your back, and looking straight ahead. So, you’re just going to leave me hanging like that? Then the elderly gentlemen walked up to me.

“Are you the leader,” he asked.

I had no idea what was going on. I was still trying to figure out why all these people looked so unhappy and nervous.

“I guess,” I answered honestly.

Ladies and gentlemen, that was the wrong answer.

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU DON’T KNOW,” he shouted, “YOU EITHER ARE OR YOU AREN’T!”

Well, I was five.

I was still trying to figure out other things, like—why we needed math in our lives and what the teachers’ lounge really looks like. Someone said it was a game room. Those were the questions I needed answered. But you didn’t see me yelling at people about it. Might I suggest decaf, sir?

I stood there, silently, still reeling back from being shouted at.

“SO, ARE YOU THE LEADER,” he shouted again.

“Yes,” I managed.

“WHAT?”

“YES!”

Why are we shouting?

“Alright, turn around and look at your platoon,” he told me.

My what?

I turned and looked at my classmates, who were just as shocked.

“You’re going to tell them what to do,” the man told me.

Okay, fine. What’s a platoon?

“Repeat after me,” he told me.

“ABOUT FACE.”

“About—face?”

“WHAT?”

“ABOUT FACE!”

You guys are all about people’s faces, aren’t you?

All those people that were huddled together in a group, were now fanned out in the group of students. They showed each one what ‘about face’ was and the students had to copy.

“Now,” the guy told me, “say, RIGHT FACE.”

“Right face?”

“WHAT?”

Sir, do you need a hearing aid?

“RIGHT FACE!”

Then we went onto left face, and a whole bunch of other things. We were there for only a couple of minutes, but I realized why all these people (who were apparently called soldiers) seemed so unhappy.

My kingdom for a Xanax. I didn’t even know what a Xanax was, they hadn’t created the DARE classes yet.

“Alright,” he told me, after everyone’s ears were ringing, “Tell them to drop and give you ten.”

Ten what?

When I said it, the other soldiers proceeded to show my classmates how to do ten push-ups. I looked over at the older gentlemen as he watched everyone struggle to do one push up.

You’re just drunk with the power, aren’t you, Sir? Should I go get a teacher?

After everyone was gasping for air and upright again, the guy took a step-in front of me and spoke to us all.

“Alright, soldiers, this was your first Boot Camp. We’ll resume again at 1300 hours.”

​Sir, we just started our times tables. But, if I happen to figure out what that means, I’ll make it a point not to avoid it at all costs.

​I had at least thirty minutes until my first class started, I always arrived this early to school and I took the opportunity to eat breakfast during this time. When I entered the doors, I was starving! I was usually starving but today was worse for some reason. My plan was to make a b-line to my first class, drop my book bag off, and then stuff my face in the cafeteria.
When I turned down the hallway, I noticed a friend of mine walking towards me with a group of people. I would say, around 12 people or so. I didn’t know most of them, but she waved me over.

“We’re going to the lunchroom, you wanna go?”

Say no more. I’m hungry. My book bag will be fine sitting in the classroom floor or cafeteria floor. It doesn’t matter.  

Looking back on it now, I guess I should have picked up on everyone’s body language. A chicken biscuit was the last thing on these people’s minds.

When we entered the cafeteria, the entire group stopped just short of the doors to the main kitchen area where you ordered your food.

What. Are. We. Doing.

I looked at my friend, who was now watching the ‘leader’ of our so-called little group. I followed the leader’s eyes across the table to a girl who was sitting there eating her breakfast. She was doing exactly what I wanted to do. She also had about the same size group with her, all eating. Why wasn’t I in that group?

“What—”

Before I could finish my question, our leader exploded into a fit of rage. Yelling, screaming, and cussing at the girl sitting at the table.

Oh dear.

All I picked up out of the sudden out lash was that the girl at the table had offender her honor at some point, maybe called her a name?

So, about the chicken biscuit.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, I don’t fight. Don’t ever expect me to back you up if something goes down. That would be a poor decision on your part.

I glanced around the cafeteria to see everyone was now staring at us. This was going well.

“I didn’t say anything about you.”

I turned back to the table when I heard the other girl speak. She said it calmly, in fact, she didn’t really seem THAT upset about being yelled at. Finally, someone with some sense around here. Let’s just deescalated this situation and go eat--

“BUT IF YOU WANNA FIGHT ME—”

The girl at the table went from zero to sixty in less than half a second. She stood up, throwing her hands in the air, motioning the other girl to come at her. The language that spewed forth out of her mouth was something I wasn’t prepared for.

Wait a minute now.

I took a step back, bumping into the people that had gathered behind me to watch the blood bath. I looked behind me to find a quick exit when I noticed the school resource officer walking into the cafeteria.

More good news.

Both girls were now screaming at each other, standing on either side of the table, leaning over to yell in each other’s faces. For whatever reason, my group took a step forward towards the table. That prompted everyone at the table to bounce up out of their seats in a threatening manner. Now everyone was cussing and yelling and being all defensive.

Can’t we all just get along—and eat our breakfast?

I took another step backward. This was not what I signed up for. When someone says, “Hey, we’re going to the cafeteria,” the last thing on my mind is to FIGHT. Am I the only one?

“Alright, break it up now!”

The school resource officer did not seem amused. I wasn’t either.

Don’t mind me, I’m just going to slip out the back of this crowd.

As if things weren’t out of hand anyway, a guy I had never seen before from our group, turned on the officer, butting his chest against his. He started screaming and cussing in his face. My heart stopped.

I don’t ask for much. All I wanted was my chicken biscuit but now, we’re all going to jail.

The officer pushed him back and warned him not to do it again. I slipped out the back of the crowd, right past everyone into the doorway of the main kitchen. The smell of food assaulted my nose, but in a good way. Not like the way everyone’s screams assaulted my ears.

There was no way I was sticking around for that, even if I had already eaten breakfast. No thank you. By the time I had made it through the line, the shouting had stopped, the crowds were gone, and the officer had taken a few people with him. My friend met me at the door.

“Where did you go,” she seemed surprised I had disappeared.

“What do you mean, where did I go? I went and got breakfast! I thought that’s what we were doing!”

“I thought you would have stayed,” she said entering the line to get her own breakfast.

How long have we been friends? At what point, did ANYTHING about me, say to you, I’d stay?

​I should have been home schooled.

The thing with T is, you never know what’s coming out of her mouth. Truly, you have no idea. SHE doesn’t even have any idea, until it’s to late.

It was around 4 or 5 in the afternoon; everyone had gone home, and T and I were closing together. I was in the middle of counting an order when one of our regular customers walked in. He needed some prescriptions refilled and T was happy to do it.

It wasn’t out of the ordinary for T to strike up a conversation, which is normally your first red flag. I wasn’t following the conversation closely but somehow, they got on the topic of cream cheese.

I had one prescription left to count, I only needed 90 pills. I tried to block the conversation out in order to count it right the first time and not have to redo it; but as that conversation went on--

The patient stated how much he loved cream cheese, what food items he’d eat it on and so forth. T stated how much she loved cream cheese and what food items she ate cream cheese on. At one point, I realized we all really needed a life if this was the highlight of our conversation. Then things went south, quickly.

“I even eat it on crackers,” T told him.

“I think I’d eat it on anything,” the man responded.

“Yeah I know,” T said.

Without a second thought she said, “You know, I think I’d eat a turd if it had cream cheese on it.”

God help me.

The man paused. I lost count. I didn’t even know why I tried anymore. I really didn’t want to look up, but I knew I had to. When I slowly raised my head, the man was staring at T, kind of stumped. I glanced quickly at T, it hadn’t hit her yet what she had said. I looked back at the man just as he let out a long drawn, uh.

“I don’t think I’d do that,” he said after a moment.

He seemed somewhat confused at how the conversation ended up the where it did. Unfortunately, this wasn’t my trip down the rabbit hole.  

“You know,” T said after a few seconds, “I wouldn’t either. That’s a bad idea.”

Everyone kind of laughed awkwardly and after a moment he left. I looked over at her. My face. Oh, my face.

“I know,” T said, tossing her hands in the air, “I have no idea why I said that.”

I emptied the counting tray and began to count again.

​Never a dull, always an uncomfortable, moment with T.