Were we always opposites of each other?

As I left my house I placed my earbud headphones in my ears. First day of my junior year of high school. Looked to be more of the same crap as last year. Not that I was complaining, I had the same homeroom teacher as last year which was definitely was a plus. I grinned as I recalled my teacher. She was definitely my favorite teacher since the rest gave me a seemingly constant migraine.

A horn caught my attention as I turned on my music player. I whirled, crouching slightly as I swept my gaze over the street. After a few moments I noticed a young woman waving at me from the opposite sidewalk. My face lit up in a rare smile as I recognized her. I knew I'd left home early but I didn't expect to meet my homeroom teacher on my way to school.

"Hey, Ms. Kirigiya!" I called to her as I walked over. She may be my teacher, but after a incident around midterms last year, she was like an older sister to me. Always graded me on a harsher scale than the other students but that didn't matter. She deeply cared about me.

"How was your summer break?" She asked, folding her arms on the roof of her car. I waved dismissively, saying something about my father paying the rent on a two bedroom flat for me so he can "liberate" his primal urges more often. I myself marked this to mean him rutting himself over school girls and paying them for their time.

"Old crock is gonna get himself locked up if he keeps going on with that." I said with a scoff of frigid disgust, "and yes, I humbly accept the ride, arigato."

Ms. Kirigiya knew my history well enough to know that even though I may rave against my deadbeat of a dad, I still love him. She also was surprised when I answered her unspoken question. She knew she was breaking regulations by giving me a ride but the court appointed her as my guardian last year. She entered her car as I looked at my home for a moment before getting in as well.

As I placed my backpack into the back seat, Ms. Kirigiya turned the car on while watching me. I could tell she felt something was off with me. In a way there was but it wasn't something I was comfortable talking to her about. I knew I should tell her but something told me my initial thought of a boring year had just gone completely out the window. She started driving after I closed the door and buckled myself in.

Breakfast was unusually quiet. Mom shoveled her scrambled eggs ravenously while watching the news, but I could barely eat anything. I toyed with the rubbery eggs and took a small sip from the huge coffee mug that mom had placed in front of me, and that alone was enough to make my knotted stomach complain painfully.

"Eat up or it'll be worse", Mom said without looking at me. She appeared to be completely focused on the news, but I knew she was paying close attention to me. I nodded nervously and forced myself to eat a bit more. I couldn't even taste the food, and I felt nauseous almost instantly. I tried to drink coffee to steady myself. It didn't work. A minute later I was stumbling towards the toilet, where I threw up what little coffee and eggs I had just eaten.

When I sat up shakily, I saw Mom standing by the door. I knew she was trying to control her expression and to appear confident and calming, but she was as worried as I was. "Violet, you're taking this too far. You haven't even had any classes yet", she said sternly.

"I'm trying!" I croaked, getting up to brush my teeth. Again. For the third time today. "I can't control this, my stomach is upset."

Mom scowled at me, but she patted me gently on the back as I brushed thoroughly. "This school has excellent recommendations, you'll see it will be nothing like last year". I tried to push away all memories from last year's experiences, and then remembered that my therapist had encouraged me not to avoid them. I spat and washed my full face, still shaking.

"I know, I'm trying not to be scared. It will be better. At least it can't be worse...", I trailed off.

We spent the following minutes getting ready to leave, and Mom didn't push me to eat anything else. I reluctantly hung my backpack from my shoulder and set off towards the car. As always, Mom spent a few minutes looking for the car keys and complaining about always misplacing everything. This time I wasn't irritated by this morning ritual, I was focused trying to think positively. We finally drove off, and Mom dropped me off at the bus stop. I had a 10 minute ride to school after that.

"Well", Mom said. She seemed to be at loss of what to say. For a split second I saw a flash of anxiety in her eyes. "Good luck, you weirdo."

"Thanks."

As Mom drove off I sat on the bench and waited. I opened my book and tried to read, but I was too distracted. A minute later, the bus was turning on the corner. I sighed nervously and got in.