Someone pulls the speaker out of my ear.

"Hello, loser!"

The last thing I missed was Mandy… With her V-neckline, wasp-waist, long legs, perfectly pressed hair.

"Hi," I moaned powerlessly.

"We're in a mood today! " She grabs my shoulder and turns me towards her. "Shit, what's this? You're wearing make-up!"

Her hazel eyes, lined with black ink, quickly scan the students in the courtyard, and when she spots Bill, she gives him a perverse smile.

"Oh, I understand everything now! So he's the reason you won't let me pick you up."

"I thought you liked to spend your mornings driving with Gregory..."

"I used to. We broke up last night."

"Why? For two weeks, the two of you never left each other's lips. "

"Being a good kisser isn't everything. The spark is gone. You know how it is; guys are like clothes; you have to replace them time to time. " she shrugs nonchalantly, as if she's just talking about the weather.

"Look, that's Matthew!" he nods towards a guy with piercings and shaved hair on the side. Bill’s classmate. Too bad he’s always talking about some metaphysics and I can't understand a word he's saying."

"Mandy, everyone knows Metamorph. At least every nerd does.” Finally, something I can do!

"Maybe you could give me a lecture sometime," she says, staring at me with her round cat eyes.

"Friday, my place? " It's the usual girly Friday, with a little nerdology thrown in. Finally, we won't be spending hours in the mall trying on dresses and I can shine too!

If I had her body and her confidence, I could be with anyone.

An icy grip clamps my throat. Maybe that's why she's making friends with me. I'm the trump card she uses to pick up the IT guys. Without me, she can't say two words to them. Not that she needs it, but this way... I may be cutting off the branch I'm sitting on, but somewhere deep down, it feels good to know that the most popular girl in school is secretly dependent on me.

Mandy, meanwhile, is going on and on about Matt. I don’t really listen to her and stay in my own head, but I’m brought back to reality when I'm hit by the sultry smell of sweat and deodorant in the locker room.

I start to undress. It’s a challenge since I injured my shoulder and back yesterday. I let my hair out, as if to straighten it, in case my greasy tassels cover it and Mandy doesn't...

"What's that?"

"Um... I fell down the stairs."

She raises her arched eyebrows.

"I took my heart medicine on an empty stomach and I got dizzy."

"Oh dear... I..."

Her face, twisted with pity, makes me want to run out of the world. Oh, how I hate this! But I'd hate it more if she found out that it was because my psycho father had smeared me on the kitchen counter.

The school bell rings and we march into the gym, which smells of sneakers and rubber floors. We start with running, like always. Lots of running. Eventually my heart will start pounding so hard that I have to get out of the way of the others. The question is when.

My stomach tightens with nervousness as I put one foot in front of the other. Faster and faster.

One lap.

I'm a weak, fat piece of shit who's being outpaced by the others.

Two laps.

I hate this feeling. Always being last, in everything.

I'm getting faster.

Three laps.

Soon I will suffocate. But I don't care. A weak piece of shit like me deserves no mercy.

Four laps.

Waiting for my chest to start stinging, my lungs to constrict, almost feeling the thunder of my heart echoing through my ribs, my carotid artery, my ears...

Five laps.

But I can't feel it.

Ten laps.

I sweat. Some people are panting now. Me too, but nothing hurts.

Fifteenth lap.

What's happening to me? Usually by this time, I'm already on the bench in shame.

I've lost count of the laps. I only listen to the teacher's instructions and the effort of my muscles. Sweating blood, panting, moaning, but I'm on my feet. Even during end-of-class gymnastics.

When the teacher releases us ten minutes before the bell, I rush to the changing room, intoxicated by my own performance. Mandy catches up with me in the corridor.

"What was that?" She pats me on the back in a friendly way. You have a heart condition? You're a little faker! - She teases, but her smile is genuine. Maybe she's thrilled that I'm not going to die so soon and that I'll be teaching her nerdology for years to come.

Between two gasps, I laugh. Mandy laughs with me. I can't believe I made it through! For the first time in my life! I wipe my sweat-soaked forehead.

I've got foundation on my palms.

My cheerfulness vanishes in the blink of an eye, I rush to the toilet as if I had diarrhoea. I'll tell Mandy the same thing if she asks. And what am I going to do about my face? I didn't have the brains to bring the foundation from home... Everyone will see...!

I look in the mirror.

Where is it? It was here this morning! I take my glasses on and off, wash my face, rub off the whole mass. But there's nothing. As if I had washed it off with my make-up... But how...? What is happening to me?

Something abnormal.

The thought creeps into my mind, unpleasant, full of horror. Like a parasite slowly devouring all that I am. As if I were no longer in my own body, my skin covered like a foreign shroud. I want to be free of this feeling, yet it pulls me in and paralyses me.

The bell rings.

A new fear rips through me; my next class is math and I haven't studied at all.

Time to rent a plot in the cemetery.