In Time Will It Come by Kaitlyn Garlets (best sci fi novels of all time txt) 📖

this assignment twice, and each time I get better at it, I think. But I don’t have my sketch pad with me, so I can’t draw anything.
“Why are you so quiet?” he asks, raising his eyebrow at me. I turn and face him and I notice that his hair is shorter than it was yesterday. Maybe he shaves it off. I shrug. He sighs and rubs his temple. “Okay, here’s the thing. People talk around here, right? Are you following me?” I nod, not really sure where this was going. “Alright, then. And since people talk, things that aren’t true like to be spread around. Right?” I nod again. “Good. You’re still following me, right?” I nod once again. “Okay and people are saying things about you that are probably true. Can I name a few?” he asks.
“What have you heard about me?” I ask in a whisper, not making eye contact. I don’t think I could stare at him if I was forced to.
“Well, like how you’re suicidal because your brother died. People are saying that you killed him. I don’t think that’s true. You don’t look like someone who could commit such a thing. Please, I am just trying to figure you out here. Help me out. I know that you look harmless, but I would really appreciate it if you would talk to me. Just looking at you tells me that you’re in a lot of pain.” David actually looks like he cares.
I stop. Mr. W. is taking role. My name is coming up soon, so I wait until he does.
“Zora Airvita?” Mr. W. asks, looking towards me. I nod to him, and he returns the nod and writes something down in his attendance book. I glance back at David. He’s looking at me strangely.
“I was hoping that you would be the one to tell me your name, not a teacher, Zora. I like the name. Does your family own a vacuum cleaner company because your last name sure seems like it would be one.” I frown and he stops smiling. “Sorry, just thought I could try and cheer you up.”
“Well, it doesn’t help much. And why would you want to know me? I’m nobody. Everyone here hates me. No one wants to be friends with someone who tries to kill herself because she’s grieving over her dead brother.” I say this without actually meaning for it to slip out of my mouth, but it does.
Just go away.
I don’t want to talk to you.
I’m nobody.
Stay. I need someone to talk to.
Please, I’m begging you. Leave.
No, stay.
Leave.
Stay.
Leave.
Go away. I don’t need you.
Yes, wait. I do need you.
You’re so handsome.
No. I don’t need you.
I don’t need you.
Wait, please don’t go.
I clutch my head with my fists and I bang them against my head, trying to make the pain go away, but knowing that it won’t go away. I’m getting one of my stress headaches. I really don’t need this right now.
I open my eyes to see David staring at me. “What are you looking at?” I demand, frustrated.
“Your arms. Are you okay? It almost looks like someone or a cat or something scratched you.” He reaches for my arm, but I pull away, not quick enough, though, because he grabs my arm, but gently. “What happened?” he asks, pulling up my sleeve. I yank my arm away from him and yank my sleeve down to my wrists. I look away from him, wanting to stand up and leave, but this is my favorite class, and I am not leaving just because someone is being mean to me, and plus, I have missed all my classes except for this one, so I think that I need to go to my last classes of the day.
“Nothing happened,” I reply in a whisper, still not making eye contact with him. I wish he would stop bugging me. So instead, I start naming off phobias that I know off the top of my head out loud so that I wouldn’t have to listen to him anymore. I’m not even sure if these are real, but what the heck, right? “Albuminumphobia, fear of kidney disease; Philemaphobia, fear of kissing; Genuphobia, fear of knees; Xenophobia; fear of racism or chauvinism; Olfactophobia, fear of odors; Bromidrosiphobia, fear of personal odor; Acoustic phobia, the phobia of sound…”
Defecaloesiophobia, fear of a painful bowel movement.
Metallophobia, fear of metal.
Claustrophobia, fear of small spaces.
Eremophobia, fear of who you are.
Eruethrophobia, fear of blushing.
Ergophobia, fear of work.
Felinophobia, fear of cats.
Francophobia, fear of France.
Frigophobia, fear of the cold or things that are cold.
“Zora?” David asks. I glance up at him. “Do you need to go to the nurse’s office? You’re rocking back and forth. Did I say something to make you freak out like this.” David stands and walks over to my side of the table.
“Don’t touch me!” I shriek at him. He holds his hands up in the air like he did the first time we were in here together. I stand quickly, but my brain isn’t acting the way it should be and I almost fall over. David catches me, but I squirm out of his grip. “Let me go!” I start to cry.
“Please, let me help,” David whispers to me. My whole body seems to be shaking. My mind shuts down and my eyes blur up with tears. David drops me. I think. I can’t be sure, though. But I feel something slam into my body. Maybe it’s the ground.
Need air.
Can’t breathe.
Need air.
Can’t breathe.
In and out. In and out. That’s all it takes.
Breath in and out. I can do this.
Icantbreatheandnothingiscomingoutandineedtobreatheicantdothisanymorejustkillmenow.
“Help! Mr. Whitetaker! Something’s wrong with Zora!” I can hear David screaming at Mr. W. What’s he doing?
“She’s having an epileptic seizure I think,” Mr. W. says. “Call nine-one-one someone! Now!”


Unknown time-------------------------------------------------------------------------Zora

“You’re going to have to look out for your daughter, Mrs. Airvita. She’s had a small seizure, caused by uncontrollable amounts of emotions. She’s had them before. Did you know that, Mrs. Airvita?” someone says.
I don’t want to open my eyes. In fact, I don’t want to do anything right now. In fact, I just want to lie here and die. No one would miss me. Not even my own dad, who probably isn’t here right now. I bet I’m in a hospital.
I finally open my eyes, though, even though I don’t want to. I can see that I am in a hospital. I turn my head, but I don’t see mom or dad. I don’t see anyone at all. I turn my head to the other side of the bed, facing the window. I about to scream, but David stands and slaps his hand over my mouth before I can. “Shh…it’s just me. Your okay now, Zora. You had a small seizure. You’ll be fine though.” He lets me nod before removing his hand from my mouth.
“What happened?” I ask, tears flowing down my cheeks. He smiles sadly and wipes my tears from my face.
“I told you,” he said, then stops. He listens to the doctor. I listen to.
“But I am watching out for my daughter, doctor. She’s all that I have left. I don’t understand what I am supposed to do. Her father, my husband…well, he isn’t the best, you know? But he is good enough to her.”
“Ma’am, your daughter is suffering from depression. I want to put her on antidepressants for now. She cuts herself, and that’s not healthy. Does she eat? Does she show signs of any vomiting or binging?” the doctor asks. I blink and more tears fall down my face. What am I supposed to do now? I don’t want to live anymore, but there are people out there that care about me.
I turn my attention back over to David, who looks like he wants to cry to. “Zora, I want to tell you something. And I have never told anyone else this in my entire life. The only people that know about this are my family.”
I smack my hand over his mouth this time. “I’m sorry, but I don’t want to know. I don’t even understand why you would even think about talking to me. You don’t understand me, I don’t understand you. There isn’t much more to say about this. I don’t want to be friends with you, can’t you see that? I am glad that someone doesn’t hate me, but—” he removes my hand from his mouth and counters with his hand over my mouth.
“No, you listen, please. I want to be your friend. I know who your father is and I understand what he did to you and your step mom was very wrong. I totally understand that. It doesn’t bother me that your suicidal or that your brother died or that no one at school likes you because your shy and different and beautiful and all of the above. I want to be your friend because you were the first person to actually listen to me. And don’t say that you haven’t listened to me because I’ve seen it in your eyes. I saw the way you looked when I first showed up in art class and the look you had when you watched me draw. I know this all sounds really, really creepy, but you have to trust me. Not everyone is going to be there for you, not your mom or your dad. But I want to be here for you. I want to know you.” He smiles down at me. My eyes widen with more tears. Now what am I supposed to say to that? I’m not just going to stop being the way I am just because someone understands me.
How could he possibly understand me? I’m nobody. He’s everybody. He might not know it, but he’s one of them, not one of my kind. Well, one of a kind, anyways. He leans down. What is he doing? Oh, no, please tell me he doesn’t want to kiss me. I’m not ready for that. No. I will never be ready for that.
Yes, kiss me, David.
No, don’t you dare or I will stab you will this IV in my arm.
No, I wouldn’t do that to someone else, would I?
Yes, I would if he got any closer.
Oh, man. His lips look so good.
No, I don’t want this. I don’t even know him.
I don’t even like him!
Why am I always thinking oppositely?
Because I’m a freak, that’s why.
No, I need someone to comfort me.
No, I don’t. I don’t need anyone. I’m perfectly fine without someone.
He leans in closer to me and I reach for my arm. I pull. I wait for the kiss. He finally makes it to my lips and I yank the IV out of my arm.
Can’t breath.
I need air.
I feel like I’m suffocating.
My heart’s racing violently, and not in a good way. I stab him with the IV.
“Ow! What the hell?” he asks, bringing his lips away from mine. He reaches for his arm and I finally realize what I had done. The needle is sticking out of his arm.
I sit up quickly. “Oh, my God. What have I done?” I yell out loud. I grab the IV and yank it out of his arm. “Oh, my God. I am so sorry. I wasn’t expecting that. I’m so sorry, David.”
H calms down after a few seconds and leaves. I don’t know what to do now. Is he going to turn me in? Is he going to