Meg Eden - Post High School Reality Quest

For Vince, and all those walks and pep talks that kept me writing.

Y ou are in a psychiatrists office.

> No, Im not.

Im sorry, I dont understand no, Im not. Who do you think theyre going to believe? The narrator, or the character who is here because she was found living in a telephone booth on the other side of town, talking to herself?

> This is a doctors office. Its a safe space. Psychiatrist sounds so

Judgmental?

> Yes. Exactly.

Well, Im sorry to break it to you but you are in a psychiatrists office. Youre here because yesterday your father found you in the last existing telephone booth in your town, after driving around for days. You were sitting on the floor, stuffed up against the phone, telling someone you wanted them to stop following you, that you were tired of being hacked into . When your father finally wrestled you out of the telephone booth, you accused him of working for the game and tried to hit him with the telephone receiver.

> I did ?

Do you remember any of this? Your mother brought you in first thing this morning, says shes been worried about you for a while. That youve never been very social.

> What do I have to do to get rid of you?

Dont rage quit, Buffy. Its unbecoming.

You look down at your wrists. Theyre locked into the chair youre sitting in. Man, they must really think youre crazy.

You know your mother means well. She just wants to make sure you feel like theres a way for you to talk about what youve been experiencing recently

> Whats there to talk about? If youd just leave me alone, then thered be no telephone booths, no problem!

Isnt that oversimplifying a little? What exactly does a player do without a game?

> You make it sound like I want to be playing a game in the first place.

Well, you are the one that started it, so yesit sort of seems to be a given that you would want to be playing a game. Just maybe not the one that this turned out to be.

You sigh and lean back in your chair. You hit the headrest. You hit it over and over, into what might almost be a consoling rhythm.

You wonder: Is that something a normal person does? Or only a crazy person? Or maybe just any kind of person, when theyre fed up with everything not going the way they planned?

The door opens.

Hello, Elizabeth.

Buffy.

Sorry, Buffy. Im Dr. Moritz, Im here to check in and see whats going on. I hear that somethings been bothering you. Could you tell me whats been going on?

Im not crazy. I didnt mean to do anythingI just wanted to get away.

Your mother says that before you ran away, you asked to stop living on campus. Could you tell me if something happened to lead up to yesterdays incident?

Where to start? It was getting hard to be around people.

Your mother mentioned that your father heard you talking to yourself, that you talked about trying to cut it out. Do you know what that was referring to?

The game. Theres a game stuck inside of me.

A game? Well, thats a first for me. But I suppose stress can manifest itself in all sorts of ways. Do you think this game could be like that, a way to handle stress?

A shrug.

I see. So, when was the first time you started playing this game?

> Load: High School Graduation

Y ou are in the cafeteria. There is a high school graduation happening. Mason, the valedictorian, is giving her farewell to the class. It takes a long time.

In your pocket, there is a letter. Its crumpled and smeared from you reaching in and touching it so many times, to make sure its still there.

Exits are: out, back, and stage.

Tristan was almost valedictorian. He was about .002 points away from it. And he makes sure to not let any of you forget. Not that youd ever forget a single word hes ever said.

> Back.

You get up from your chair and go to the back of the room. There is a piano. You look longingly at it.

> Examine piano.

You go over the piano. You run your fingers over the keys but are too shy to actually play anything. Thats what everyone says about you: that you want to do something but never actually do it. Thats why you wear gothic Lolita dresses only at home, curl your hair once a month, and paint on the weekends. Anything else might be too much.

> Exit out.

You are now in the main hallway. It is very long. There are lots of doors.

You wonder if you hide in one of them long enough you can avoid growing up. Everyone says that after today, everything that you do actually matters. That every decision you make will invariably have consequences on your existence and wellbeing. The only consequences youre used to are not saving before entering the water temple in Ocarina of Time , or using up your master ball before encountering Mewtwo in Pokmon-Red .

Exits are: cafeteria, door, another door, bathroom, main office, and out.

> Door?

You go into one of the doors. Its not very exciting.

> Out.

You are now in the main hallway. It is very

> Bathroom.

You go into the bathroom. Sephora is in front of the mirror, fluffing her insignificant breasts. No one believes her birth name is actually Sephora but no one has any proof to say otherwise. She doesnt look like a make-up model but you keep that kind of commentary to yourself.

Exits are: bathroom stall and out.

You dying out there too? Sephora asks. Its so humid in that small room.

You nod. Yeah, its really hot. You feel sweat run through your hair, down your scalp.

When theres a whole twenty people graduating, youd think itd be shorter than this. But they still find a way to make us miserable. Sephora reapplies a layer of lipstick. And this uniform makes me look so fat. Ugh.

You just graduated from a religious high school. You say religious because, as hard as it is for you to stomach the concept of a god, words like transubstantiation are even less comprehensible to you. And as much as your music class sings about concepts like grace, the signs posted on every door with commandments like: skirts shorter than your finger-tips are unacceptable and earrings should be no larger than a nickel, have made you eager for the alleged freedom of college.

And not just freedom from rules, but freedom from people like Sephora, who are your friends only because of your small school population. Because everyone has to survive somehow, and its dangerous to go alone.

But youve survived, at least this far. Congratulations.

Sephora sighs, scratching at the dead skin on her cheek. I cant wait til the sun comes out again. I mean, look at my skin! I need to tan again.

Even if you hadnt seen Sephora in size 00 bikinis before, one look at Sephora makes it clear that she has the Scottish pasty skin that never tans. Just like you. Besides your gender and your love of obscure video games, this is all you have in common with her.

You know, now that summers coming, Im thinking about trying something new, just for the kicks. Sephora looks you in the eye. Im even thinking about going out with Tristan. Who knows. It might be fun! And Ive been seeing him eye me