Dear Dakota | Academic Rivalry Story

Three | Late

N Y L A D Y L A N S

I forgot how much I hated waking up at 5:30 am until I had to do so this morning.

My sleep schedule is bad. And I mean horrible.

I couldn't fall asleep until one last night. It felt like the night before my Freshman year of high school all over again. I am in grade 12. The transition should be easy. For me, of course, it has been full of nerves.

I've been to school with all of these people. I don't understand where this feeling of possibly not belonging is coming from.

My eyes fall on my clock. The bright white light hitting my eyes, making me see random dots of color.

I would go into the routine but it has been the same since I was 12. Nothing interesting to be said about it.

I run down my stairs once I get dressed, still trying to style my hair in the process. The luscious stuff on my head people would call curls is making my hands hurt. The constant scrunching is aching my wrist.

"Morning." Mom greets me at the island counter and I wave hello, still not capable of talking this early in the morning. She continues asking me random questions and I respond with a simple hand gesture. Take the hint. I am not a morning person.

Deciding to not be rude I speak up. "Did Dad leave for work already?"

"He is still asleep. Work won't start until ten today, but mind you, we won't be back until six, so you might want company at the Reids house."

She says this because I am terrified of storms, and a huge one is coming its way right when the dismissal bell rings.

My mom slides me over a piece of paper; the school map. The last time I went to the high school was for a football game. I swear we all thought we were the shit at that age. Outrageous dots were painted across our faces, handprints of royal blue paint down our legs. Crazy, I say.

But it's not like I still won't do those things again.

My eyes go back and forth between my schedule and the map as I try to find the shortest way to class. I fold the paper up neatly, putting it in a random pocket of my bag. I look at the clock, 6:15. The bus is going to come in five minutes.

I ignore breakfast for today. I physically cannot eat in the morning. Instead, I swing my bag over my shoulder and slip on my shoes. I let my mom know I will be next door and she gives a hug and kiss on the cheek before I walk out of the door.

Darkness surrounds me and only the bright street lights cast a yellow haze on the sidewalk. I see a figure already walking down the steep sidewalk, making their way to the bus stop. I text Delaney, letting her know I am waiting for her at the end of my driveway.

Atlas is the first to walk out. His soccer bag is in his hand, while his school bag is on his back. The Reids front door closes and I see Delaney running down her driveway while eating the last bit of toast that is in her hand. "Morning." She greets us and we greet her back.

"Where is your brother?" Atlas asks her.

She points her finger down to where the bus stop is. "He got very tall," I recall when I saw him walking down the sidewalk.

"I feel like a midget next to my brother. And I am average height for a girl so I don't know where he got the tallness from."

"Your dad?" Atlas states the obvious.

Delaney rolls her eyes as we walk down the steep sidewalk I have a love-hate relationship with. When I was little this would be the ultimate hill to ride my bike down, but having to go up is torture.