Sometimes Thomas calls me a crazy little bitch. It is more than sometimes. He does it a lot. He has done it 11 times this week, beginning Sunday. Dad says he’s just trying to make me mad, but I don’t care what Dad says about this. I do get mad. I can get MAD, MAD, MAD! Maybe I am a crazy little bitch. When I get mad, mostly I don’t even know why I’m mad. Sometimes I just am because I am.

I don’t like loud noises. Loud noises echo inside my head and won’t stop. Sometimes the noises are voices, sometimes they are just noise. Sometimes I just have to scream until the noise goes away. My own screaming doesn’t count as noise inside my head, maybe because I know it’s something I control. I don’t know what it is that makes me be like that, I just am because I am.

Sometimes my brother yells at me, “Shut up. Shut the fuck up! Bitch.” I just scream longer and louder. I am not ‘Bitch’, I am Susan. It is worse if he wraps his arms around me and holds me down. That just makes me keep screaming, louder and longer. I try to scratch or hit or push him away. I kick and buck and twist. But Thomas is strong, almost as strong as Dad. But Dad doesn’t hold me like that unless I am breaking things or hurting myself. Thomas can be mean.

This morning my head was exploding with voices. That happens a lot. I don’t remember now what the voices were saying. It wouldn’t have mattered. I just couldn’t make them stop. I screamed to cover them up. I put my head down like a bull and charged. The top of my head crashed into the wall of my bedroom. The wall crumbled where I crashed into it. There was a top-of-my-head shaped hole on my side of the wall. If I’d run faster and harder I would have gone through the wall. Nothing could stop me. But my head hurt.

Dad stopped me before I could try again. So I just screamed and screamed. My brother was talking too, maybe he was yelling at me. I don’t even know. I wasn’t hearing to his noise. All I could tell was Dad was holding me. His low voice helps to calm me, the sound, not the words. I don’t know what words he used. Finally, Dad got me into the kitchen eating breakfast. He gave me Frosty Os, so I ate. Sometimes I had 7 Frosty Os in my spoon, sometimes I had 11, a few times I had 13. The Frosty Os are best when you put a prime number in your mouth all at once. Most foods are like that. I try to eat in prime number groups whenever I can, which is mostly. Sandwiches can be a problem, and pizza. I like burgers and pizza, but I can’t eat 2 of them. So for burgers and other sandwiches I count how many bites. That’s easier with small burgers. With bigger ones, the prime numbers are farther apart like either 31 or 37. For pizza, Dad cuts them into either 7 or 11 or even 13 slices. The pizza guy at Murphy’s Roadhouse Pizza will do the same thing, because he likes me. But sometimes when we go there, he isn’t working, so we order it not sliced and Dad takes care of it.

After I finished my Frosty Os, Dad got me dressed in my school clothes and put me in the car to take me to school. Thomas rides with us to school. This day he didn’t. Dad took me into my classroom and left me like he always does. Susan was there. We have the same name. I think that is strange, but she is usually a good person. She tries to help me when I need it and leave me alone when I don’t. Her job is to help Mr. Quillian, who is our real teacher.

Like always, I sit next to David. He isn’t like me. But at least he doesn’t talk much. We start doing Math. I like math. Math is good. I understand it. We have 15 students in class this time, which is not a good number, but if I count Susan and Mr. Quillian, then there is 17 which is good. I hope one more person doesn’t show up, that will screw things up. But Ramona Caprice, the girl who always wants people to use both her names, shows up. She is late as usual. Now our number is bad. This will not be a very good day.

I was right. Before long Ricky in the front row is having a meltdown and Susan has to focus on him. And even if he has to leave, our number will still be wrong because Susan will have to go with him, at least until someone else can take care of him. This will not be a good day, it will not. I shut my eyes.

Mr. Quillian projects a math problem on the screen. We have been talking about how to do problems like this for a few days now, even though I already knew how to do them. I raise my hand to tell him how to solve the problem because I know it and I like it. I think he wants to give the others a chance to figure it out too, but no one else raised their hand, only me. He probably thinks it would be kind of good if someone else did. That would be 2, another prime number. 2 is the only prime number that is also even, but that’s another story. Mr. Quillian will have to chose me. I keep my hand up.

The school alarm goes on. It is too loud. I put my hands over my ears and start to scream. Mr. Quillian is scared too. He points to the front wall. We are supposed to go there for this alarm. Mr. Quillian hurries to lock the door. He is trying to look at his phone to read something too. A voice from the office is loud on our speaker, while the alarm is not as loud. “Not a drill...” it says more, but I don’t hear it all. I am still screaming. Some others are screaming too. I do go to the wall, most of us do. I don’t like to be packed so close. Ramona Caprice is next to me. She puts her hand on me. I do not like that. I keep screaming. Mr. Quillian pushes the button to close the window shades. There are loud noises from somewhere in the school, explosions like fireworks, 1, 2, 3, a pause, then 4. He turns off the lights. That is part of our drill. He is urging the few who are still at their desks to join us. It is too many people standing here. Mr. Quillian wants us to sit on the floor, right where we are. Most of us do. I do. I am so scared. I realize I have stopped screaming, even though it is still too noisy and we are all crowded together. Marie Caprice, and Alli, and John are all too close to me. They are touching me. But there’s nowhere to go. I close my eyes and pretend to be alone.