Here's To Hoping (One Direction)

2.) A Rough Start

Chapter Two: A Rough Start

        Slowly, but surely I begin to come to the realization that I am unfortunately dreaming. As disappointment washes over me, I realize something else. My alarm clock reads 8:12. I’m officially late for one of the last lectures of my junior year at college.

        Jumping out of bed, I rush to my closet. Grabbing a pair of shorts and a t-shirt, I quickly throw them on and slip my feet into my Vans. As I run out of my small bedroom while trying to put in my contacts, I nearly collide with my roommate and best friend Jessica. Clearly she has just woken up herself. Her brown hair is in a messy bun and she’s still sporting her glasses and retainer, which is something she’s rarely ever seen in.

         “Hey Speed Racer,” She says with a scowl, “Slow down!”

         “Sorry, Jess!” I say as I scramble to gather my books, “I didn’t wake up in time and now I’m late for my class.”

          Upon hearing my dilemma, Jess promptly bursts in laughter. “Good going, Skank! I told you not to pick such early classes.”

          Now it’s my turn to scowl. Skank is the nickname she gave me back in 11th grade. It’s not really an insult; it’s more of making fun of my last name Shanklin. Also, her words remind me of the dream I’d been having before my unfortunate alarm clock incident. Jess was almost always right and she knew it. I was just too stubborn to accept it.

          “Thanks, Jessica. Anymore words of wisdom before I go?” My words practically ooze with sarcasm.

          “Guess not, grumpy. Just remember that we have to be at the Brown Roof tonight so we can win those tickets. I just know tonight is going to be our night.” Jess has a hopeful spark in her eyes. Praying she’s right, I vamp out the door and book it to my semi new silver Altima.  

-.-.-.-.-.-

            As I had suspected, I was late for class by a mere 18 minutes according to the clock next to my psychology 101 professor’s room. I try my best to go unnoticed as I slip through the door and walk quietly to my seat. I see the professor facing the chalk board writing notes.

            “Ms. Shanklin. You’re late.” My professor, Mrs. Lunar, has now turned to face me. She’s an elderly woman with short brown hair that’s fading to grey.  

            “Uh, yes. Sorry about that. I had an issue with my alarm clock.” My face starts to burn and I am positive that it must be a nice shade of scarlet by now.

            “Simple things such as alarm clocks are not an excuse. I do not tolerate tardiness; you know this.” She says in a clipped British accent. She switches her sights to the other students, “I thought that you all would have learned by now that class starts at 8:15. I assume that I was incorrect.”

            With a final look of distaste directed towards me, she turns back around and continues writing. Well this is wonderful. I’ve only been here 5 minutes and I’ve already pissed her off. Thank God it’s my last class with her.