24 Hours

The Shitty Field trip: A Day In High School Part 1

     So from the time I get up in the morning, to the time I get on the bus I spend ten minutes trying to put together a semi-cute outfit. Some mornings I wake up and I like to try to at least look decent, others it's pajama day for me. After I get an outfit together, I go out to the barn, and feed our animals. We have two horses, three goats, five pigs, two donkeys, three emu, and an assortment of chickens, turkeys, and peacocks. Then I come in and take a shower, get dressed, and spend about twenty minutes 'doing my make-up' otherwise known as, 'Wishing I wasn't so damn ugly".

     From this point I simply brush through my light blue hair and run out to catch the bus. On the bus there is one seat in the back that is 3/4 of a regular size seat.. that is my seat. Everyone claims that it's not big enough for another person to sit with me when they're yelled at for standing. But, really there is room and they would just rather stand. It's okay, that doesn't bother me like it would most people. I deal.

     When we get to the high school, I am one of the last kids off because I sit in the back. I walk into the school, alone. Walk down the semi-empty hallway, alone. Drop my bookbag in the hallway outside my first period classroom, alone. Go get breakfast and sit down to eat it in the near-epmty cafeteria, alone. In the cafeteria, I usually just watch as people come and go with their food and friends, watch as people are just ariving, and wait until I know that my best friend -my previously mentioned English teacher, Mrs. Shope- arrives, at which point I will go sit in her classroom and talk to her until the bel rings.

     Once the bell rings I fight my way through the crammed hallways to my first period, History. Yay, I get to learn about my ancestor's failed attempts. Who cares? But, whatever we have to learn it so I sit quiestly in the back corner of the room taking my notes and doing my work. Meanwhile, everyone else is texting their buddies and Mr. Porter is 'teaching' us all about the Civil War. No one, but me and a few of the smart yet popular kids, are even paying attention to him. There is no way he doesn't know that they are on their phones, not listening but he doesn't say anything about it.

      Second period, my free period, I could check out in the office and go to McDonalds like most kids do, but I usually just go sit in the library and soak up all the weird looks kids give me. Will they ever learn that I just don't give a shit about what they think? Probably not. My free period in the library is 5% pretending to read, 5% chacking my phone even though I know I'll have no notifications, and 90% thinking about how much I can't wait to get to third period. Geometry with Mrs. Moore.

     So I think about her too much, so I dream about her, so I even draw her.. who cares?

     If I could just somehow have the ability to make myself her husband, for one he would look a lot less like a bum and two it'd be the happiest day of my life. Even if she thinks I'm him, I'd still get to kiss her, to hold her in my arms. I'd still have the memories.

     The bell rings to go to third period, and it scares me so bad I almost fell out of my chair. I was daydreaming about her, again. I dazidly grap all my books and papers I pulled out to work on but soon forgot about and shove them in my bag. I walk quickly down the hallways, most people were already in their classrooms so I didn't have to weave through a bunch of people. I saw her standing in her usual spot, right outside her door on the left hand side, before I even made it halfway down the hall. She was just standing with her back against the wall, with her blue coffee cup in her left hand. She was smiling at no one in particular, and then took a drink off her coffee.

     I was so busy looking at her I didn't see the puddle on the hallway floor and I slipped and fell, hitting my head when I did. She saw it, and immedietly came to my side. "Oh my God, Laura are you okay?" she asked. I tried to sit up to assure I was fine, but she rested her hand on my shoulder, "No, not too fast. It looked like you hit your head pretty hard, I don't want you to rush moving, give it a minute." So there I lay, with the woman I'm in love with's hand on my shoulder, in the middle of the hallway wishing this wouldn't have happened yet glad it did. Because, now her hand is one my shoulder and I have her undivided attention.