It was obvious that I was way braver and stronger than ever before. That dirtbike taught me how to be truly brave. I rode in spite of my fear, and learned how to deal with sudden issues with control. Sure, I've yelled at a few drivers for being idiots, and when I was blown into the ditch I was trembling for about 20 minutes, but I haven't actually lost control in those situations. This new way of thinking helped me control my anxiety a lot better when I was at school, and probably really helped me battle Pseudomonas. 

I had survived my first bout with Pseudomonas, and won without suffering any permanent damage. I had also been riding for well over two years, and my confidence while riding was sky-high. However, my confidence in school was near rock bottom. As far as trust went, I still couldn't really trust people.

I made friendly acquaintances with pretty much everyone at school, but I seldom opened up about my disease. In fact, I didn't tell anyone until I returned to school after being out for 9 weeks. When I returned, everyone I met acted like they were shaking hands with a ghost. One girl even went pale when I walked into the empty classroom behind her and sat down next to her. A rumor had spread that I had died, and the students made up a conspiracy that the teachers were lying when they said I was still alive. Thankfully, that rumor blew over pretty quickly when I returned.

My teacher in Anatomy class put me in the spotlight the day I returned. She wanted to educate the kids about genetic diseases, and wanted me to explain why I was gone on top of what my disease is. I didn't complain, but I didn't want to say anything either. I stuttered from nervousness pretty much the whole time. I wasn't sure how everyone would react. In the past, a lot of people bullied me, some treated me like I was a fragile little flower, and others completely cut ties with me. I once asked a student why she stopped talking to me when I opened up about my disease in 9th grade. She sighed, and with tears in her eyes she explained she really liked me, but didn't want to befriend someone who was dying. I told her I wasn't dying. CF isn't cancer or ALS, and chances are I'll live just as long as anyone else. It was nearing the end of the year though, so she sadly didn't get to know me much better. 

To my surprise, only a few students raised their hands to ask questions after I was done stuttering over my words, and most of those questions were like, "So... um, is that why you leave five minutes early for lunch?" and my answer was, "Yes. Yes it is. The only good thing about CF is that I get to eat before everyone else, since my digestive enzyme pills work right away and I have to run down to the office to get them." 

And to my even greater surprise, almost no one treated me that differently. For the first four weeks of school, I was normal in their eyes. I mean, I definitely stuck out of the crowd when it came to my style of dressing, talking, and learning, but my body didn't seem different than anyone else's. No one can tell there's something wrong just by looking at me. And when I returned, my normality stuck with my peers for the most part. It wasn't unusual for people to ask me questions, especially in Anatomy since my teacher blasted that door off the hinges, but I wasn't too bothered by it.