It had been a couple of weeks since the attack, and Holden's life had never been more complicated. After his recovery in the hospital, Starkid boarding school welcomed him back with open arms. He had a meeting with the principal, explaining a slight change in his schedule until he was deemed fully recovered.
Most of his classes were the same, but self defense had been taken out and replaced with something called therapy. He soon learned that it was a wonderfully boring session with the school's psychiatrist about how he was feeling that day, and how well he was adjusting back into society. Which, of course, was not very well. His new loss of depth perception really set him back, constantly bumping into walls and people, which did not help him stay unnoticed.The teenager absolutely dreaded the class, and was even more frustrated with the fact that she would not allow them to shake hands. She knew he was a psychic and believed it was better for them to get to know each other "personally," instead of a quick exchange of skin to skin contact. Holden called complete bullshit on the chick, since most people did not really care. It just made him believe she had some god awful secret she was not keen on sharing with him.
The kids were no better. For the first couple days that would point and stare, and some would ask him a million questions as if they were entitled to every last detail about the attack. After the initial shock, the hallways died down to the occasional glance and the overly dramatic whisper. All the negative attention grabbed Holden by the shoulders and demanded to be noticed. Every look, question, and jeer felt like a stab through his stomach. Even before the incident, the psychic was not very fond of social interaction. But now, he wanted to crawl inside himself and never see another person again. Even his internet friends, whom he use to talk to on a daily basis, rarely even saw his name online. He mostly sat inside his room and listened to audio books, since reading actual books felt like too much effort.
Holden had not so much as looked at Jak and Danny. The people he had considered to be his best, and only, friends were mere memories. Summer was slowly approaching, and he barely said hello to either of them. He did vaguely remember a brief chat with Danny, who seemed to be trying to get him to talk more than just a simple hello. But, Holden did not keep up, and made some lame excuse about class before speeding off.
Jak was a completely different story.
After their first chat while he was recovering from the surgery, Holden avoided him at all cost. He had seen him a couple times in the hallways, but quickly made alternate routes to his class so he could easily steer clear of the white-haired boy. Seeing him made him want curl up and die, so he could not even imagine how a conversation with him would end. Everything about his new life made him seem like the shell of what he use to be. His skin became paler, if it was even possible, and the circles under his eyes became darker. His whole body looked unkempt. The only time he seemed to talk was in therapy, where he was forced to either say "no" or "I don't know." Even though he was too afraid to do anything anymore, Holden yearned for nothing other than the life he had with both of his eyes.
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