I slung my backpack on my shoulders. I carried the books for first period and my own sketch/writing/rough work book in my arms. My pockets, as usual, were full of pens, pencils, erasers, a sharpener, candy wrappers and some money.
Miss. O’Brien smiled at me as she handed me a piece of toast and a glass or orange juice. I tried to smile back. I felt better this morning.
I glanced at my wristwatch. I had exactly an hour left for school to start, but I always left early to avoid going with the other fosters (everyone around my age was a boy agh). As I finished my orange juice and toast, I could hear the others coming down. Clutching my books to my chest, I ran down two streets, hoping I would be ahead of them. I slowed down and walked slowly to school.
Even though I quite like English and Math and Biology…. and Chemistry and Physics……. and History and Geograpy…. and well, practically everything, I did NOT enjoy going to school.
The bell still wouldn’t ring for about forty-five minutes. I decided to roam around the school grounds. While walking, I noticed a little swing, tucked behind a clump of bushes. I sat down and started swing. I focused on little things, like the wind blowing through my dark hair and the blue cloudless sky.
I closed my eyes and though for a long time. Yes, I just sat and thought. It was a magic moment. Just the silence and me.
Wait, the silence? I groaned at my stupidity and leaped off the swing. I landed on my knees, bruising them and tearing my jeans, but I didn’t care about that right now. I rushed into the front yard. My suspicions were correct. Everyone was in class. I was only fifteen minutes late, but I still had to get to class as soon as possible.
I rushed down the corridors and forced myself to walk in as calmly as I could. As I entered, I closed my eyes and waited for impact.
Sure enough, I heard, “Diana Winters! Where have you been all this time? Daydreaming perhaps?”.
“I… Sorry” I mumbled, and went to take the last empty seat.
Needless to say, the rest of my day went horribly. I didn’t have my first period books and got yelled at. I didn’t even have an extra book to write my notes in so I got yelled at. Again. And I got detention too.
Then during break, I found my books. In the mud. The pages of my rough work book were covered with brown dust and my notes in my notebook were practically illegible.
I nearly felt like crying.
As I walked home, it started raining. How cliche. I opened out my umbrella and stared at the grey world around me. It wasn’t happy. Nor was I. I passed the street my current house was in. Did I want to go in?
I hesitated for a minute. Then I ran.