Page 46 - Student: dazed And Confused

"Now, maybe we can talk properly." He looked down at her, wondering if she was
ever going to look back at him. "I really want us to be friends, Jessie. Even if we can't be
like family, can't we just get along? If you want to keep on ignoring me, then that's fine.
But I don't want us to be estranged. Do you know what estranged means? I don't think
either of us want to carry on not knowing each other."
Speak for yourself, thought Jess, but said nothing. She had got this far without him,
what made him think she needed him now.
"I don't blame you for being upset but can't you even bring yourself to treat me like
a human being?"
Now he was trying to make out that she was the one in the wrong, like she was the

one that had run away. He just got more and more unbelievable. She wasn't the one who
had walked out on them before her birth, she hadn't shirked her responsibilities.
"Jessie?"
"Don't call me that," she said at length, no warmth in her voice. "You can call me
Jessica." Only people she liked were allowed to call her Jess. Only people she liked were
allowed into her life. "And you can get out." She stared at him, cold and unwavering, until
he finally became unnerved by her and got to his feet. Jessica followed him to the door, not
giving him the opportunity to turn around and sit back down.
He stopped just before he reached the door and scanned the jumble of photographs

pinned to the large corkboard. The man noticed, with a pain in his stomach, that there were
no pictures of him - even old photos of her mother during pregnancy had been torn so that
he wasn't in them. Sadly, he opened the door and started off towards the stairs. Jess
swung the door shut and flopped down on her bed. He was nothing to her, she couldn't
bring herself to even call him her father.
He turned around at the sound of the closing door and ran his hand through his
floppy brownish hair, confused.
Jess gazed up at the white ceiling. People started out so pure and innocent, clean
souls; how could they possibly end up so screwed up? The music rattled out of the
speakers, and she felt calmer, safer, in the midst of her bedroom clutter. She stared down

at the drawing she had just finished - a robot.

NOW

That was her haven, the place where she could go to find peace, maybe to think
about things. Everybody has a place like that; a bedroom, a garden, even the park.

Sometimes the most peaceful place to be is the busiest one there is. The place I like to go is
busy at times, but I don't even notice it. My retreat is called the White Room - it's a refuge
for people trying to escape something.