Throughout the night, I had trouble sleeping. I woke up 20 minutes later than usual. That meant 15 minutes before I had to leave for the bus. Waking up on time was never one of my strong suits. Reluctantly, I made myself get out of bed.
Bacon and something else mouth-watering encouraged me to move forward and grab my clothes out of the drawer. I took a 10 minute shower and blow-dried my hair. Today I picked out jean shorts and a navy blue t-shirt to wear.
I scarfed down my toast and bacon in no time. The scrambled eggs were tasteless and moist. Lets just say that my mom wasn't a five star chef. Dad, however, was someone who avoided anything reheatable or out of a can by all means. If only he didn't have to go to work at 6:00 in the morning.
"Honey, I need you to watch Sydney tonight after school. I won't be home until around 9 o'clock. And remember-"
"Mom, I know. No friends over, get my homework done, and go to bed at a decent time." I repeated the familiar expectations as if they were inscribed inside of my head.
"Good girl. Now have a good day at school. If you need anything, call me," she said as she walked out of the door. "And have a good day at school!"
✺
That day at school was just like the day before, except instead I didn't run into Cain at all. At least not literally.
Since I finally knew who he was, I recognized him in Chemistry class with Mrs. Johnston (she, as it turned out, was very tedious and repetitive with words). I avoided any exchanged looks with Cain or Audia and her group at all costs to spare my reputation any further harm. At the end of the day, I sat in the front of the bus again with Max, who actually turned out to be pretty cool. I'll be the first to admit that he's SUPER nerdy though. Not in a really smart way, but in a way that sums up his love and knowledge for any type of video game, movie, or science fiction book. I guess in that sense he's more like a genius. Just not academically.
✺
When I came home, it was 3:35. Walking into the house and putting down my backpack, I took off my navy blue Converse shoes and dragged my feet to my room. I was tired and sore from the long day at school. And even though it was just the second day of school, I already had lots of homework (albeit, it was easy). My Calculus class with Mr. Schradle started easily since we began to review the basics that we previously learned.
I smiled as I set down my pencil and looked at my sheet with drawn out hyperbolas and parabolas. I hadn't forgotten too much over the summer. Not even my abundance of short-tempered insults.
I packed up my math sheets into my binder and set my backpack aside. I had to figure out what I was going to do with Sydney when she got home from school. Plopping myself onto my back on the blue polka-dotted bed, I tried to think of ideas. Quietness played like a broken record in my head over and over again. Finally, the word picnic popped into my head. So, I set off to work.
First, I walked downstairs and grabbed a red plaid blanket. Then I went into the fridge and grabbed the blueberries. After washing them, I took out the deli bread and cold-cut slices of ham. Sydney loved Colby jack cheese, so I decided on using that. When the sandwiches were made, I went down to the basement to look for a basket.
I creaked down the wooden steps and blindly reached for the light switch. Silliness took over me. I turned on the the light quickly and yelled "Boo!". I swung around to look at the basement window. A silhouetted figure was trying to squeeze through the window pane into the basement. The butterflies in my stomach that I was timidly holding back on my way down the steps before must have pulled a Houdini on me. They somehow escaped my intense hold onto courage and took over my body. At first I was frozen with fear. Then I grabbed a baseball bat from under the clutter of junk and ran over to the intruder like a madman. Right as I pulled the bat over my head to swing, the "intruder's" familiar voice squeaked out her identity. Oops. My mistake. It was just Sydney. She plunged into fast run-on sentences of her explanation. "The front door was locked and I couldn't get inside and I was pounding on the door but you didn't answer so then I yelled your name and you still didn't answer! So instead I ran around the house and looked for a way inside, and I finally found this window! Then I tried to crawl through and you looked like you were about to murder me.... which you very well might have."
"Oh," I said, "I'm sorry. I completely forgot to unlock the door for you. I'll make sure to remember next time. Since I was getting supper ready, that's probably why I couldn't hear you.... Well anyway, do you think you could help me look for a picnic basket?" I asked.
She looked at me "Sure; as long as you keep the front door unlocked when I'm coming home."
✺
By the time all of our picnic things were packed up, the hour hand on the clock had moved 2 notches since when I arrived home. We took out the food and placed it on the red plastic plates. After talking about the negatives and positives of our new house, we sat in silence, enjoying the setting sun. It sure seemed different than watching the sun set in California. I tugged at the corner of the blanket to straighten out the wrinkles; one of the many simple but entertaining things I loved to do.
By the time my mom got home, Sydney was already asleep. Mom came in and I asked how her day was. She looked up at me and closed her eyes. Smiling weakly, she let a single tear run down her pale cheek.
"Mom? Why are you crying? What happened? Let's sit down, okay?"
All she did in response was drop her smile and sob uncontrollably, her hand shaking as she pointed out to her parked blue Ford. I looked at the car and didn't understand.
I was confused. I got up off of the love seat and turned on the porch light. It took me a whole five seconds to let the view sink in. The front of her car was crumpled and half of the windshield crushed inwards. The porch light reflected off thick red liquid. The same liquid was in between the cracks of the windshield. I noticed something else too. There were strings of blonde hair stuck in the cracks.
I couldn't breathe. I didn't want to breathe. The last question that passed through my thoughts before I fainted was: "Who did Mom hit?".
