The Makeover

23 | A Hullabaloo of M's

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Chapter 23 | An Hullabaloo of M's

Mondays are the the worst days of the week.

At least, for me.

I had compulsory classes at a stretch, each being at least an hour and thirty minutes long. Sit, listen, write till your fingers ache, get up, walk to the next class at the speed of light and then repeat the cycle again. In all, my brain was overheating.

Currently, I was in front of my blue locker and I was jamming in the combination with one manicured hand as I steadied myself and tried not to trip and fall in my nude platform heels, sending some of my hair flying with the other.

You can do this, Zara. Just 235 more days of school.

The hallways were filled with a deafening, hellish noise that consisted of noise from the music room, clatter of walking feet, a bunch of girls giggling and fawning over Taylor Swift's new song, all the others gathering and furiously scrolling on their mobile phones and gossiping about the whatever the hottest new scandal on campus was.

I felt like I was standing at the teeming edge- I was past the chapter of my life when I really really cared, I had closed that book and I was never going to read it again. Who would have thought I could be who I really wanted to be in the middle of my senior year?

My locker had been defaced out of love with flyers and invites from a whole lot of clubs and groups in the school. The colourful stickers were sticking out like sore thumbs with their diverse ranges of sizes and designs. With a raised eyebrow, I began to check some of them out.

Maths, the only place where someone buys 98 watermelons and no one wonders why -The maths Nerds obviously.

We're not strange, we're dramatically different-Movie Club.

There are two golden rules in the orchestra- Start together and finish together, no one gives a damn what goes on in between- Orchestra.

It takes an awful lot of time to not write a book- Creative Writers.

The courage in journalism is sticking up for the unpopular and not the popular - Press Corp. Yeah right, like anyone ever stuck up for me in the past. If they'd said 'Journalism is organised gossip' instead, they would have been just right.

Needless to say, I felt all the love. But the truth was, I never was going to join any of those clubs.

Sighing, I pulled the locker open. My eyes widened when they saw what they saw. A considerably large fuchsia pink stuffed animal sat right in the middle of the metal locker.

I brought it out and touched it's fur. It felt frizzy, but undeniably soft. A warm smile wormed it's way to my face for a second before my brain caught up with anxiety.

Who could have put a teddy bear in my locker, Hell, how in the world did they know my combination? Okay, there's no point wondering that, since it was just my date of birth, anyone could know my date of birth.

I looked around, but everyone seemed to be into their own business.

Still, I picked up the plushie and wondered how it even fit into the locker, until I felt something against my torso. I looked into it's pocket and found a packet of Twizzlers and a note that said; You're free at 12:45. Meet me in the science lab. Love, M.

Whoever they were, they knew just the way to my heart. I wasn't really a cuddly toy person, but the Twizzlers did it for me. But why did I find myself wishing it was a Love, H instead?