Barrier

“Jessica is just shy, that’s all,” Mom told the school counselor. It was what she’d told every counselor at every school, from my grade school in Stephenville, Texas, to tenth grade here at Harding High School in St. Paul. I wondered if the counselor noticed my mom nervously tapping her heel against the floor-what she did when she couldn’t smoke away the stress. Mom hated closed-door dialogues as much as I did. “Mrs. Johnson, I think it’s more than that,” Mrs. Something-or-Other retorted.
“I remember my first few days at a new school,” Mom started, and she was off. The endless drama of Mary Johnson, the world’s blandest name for the highest-strung creature on earth.
When Mom paused to take a breath, the school counselor jumped in. “On her first day, she skipped one class entirely and walked out of another in the middle of the period. Her second day was about the same, while yesterday was–” All eyes fell on my sweat-drenched, beet-red face.
Yesterday was a disaster of epic failures, I finished silently. AKA a normal day in the life of Jessica Johnson, freak of nature. Half white, half black, and altogether crazy as a Minnesota loon.
“I asked Jessica to do an online assessment,” the counselor told Mom. I’d done the thing just to shut her up and get her to leave me alone, but now this. “This isn’t official, but she tested very high, and given-”
“That’s my girl-smart as her mom!” I glanced down at my manga.
“Mrs. Johnson, it was an assessment for social anxiety disorder. A high score indicates that she likely struggles with it.” And then the school counselor was off and running. “People with social anxiety disorder generally experience extreme fear in social situations, which causes serious stress and impaired ability to function in daily life. Their fears can be triggered by perceived judgment, or real scrutiny, from others.”
Hello, I want to shout, I’m sitting right here as you call me crazy. Which I am, thank you.