Chapter 1
BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!
Groaning, I slam my hand on the snooze button to my alarm clock, rolling over. I know I should get up, but my bed is so warm and cozy...I don't know why I do this every morning, waking up at 6 AM for school.
Suddenly I hear a WHAM followed by the tired groan of my little brother in the next room. I chuckle a little, amused by his fall. I told him having a bunk bed with no rails was a bad idea, but he insisted it would make it easier for him to reach his alarm clock on his night stand, which is a lot shorter than his bed.
Awake now, I turn off my alarm clock before it makes that irritating noise again, and slowly crawl out of bed. I rub my eyes tiredly, walking to my closet and grabbing a dark button up and jeans, throwing them on quickly before grabbing my backpack and heading downstairs to the kitchen. Mom is still in bed, as she doesn't have to be at work until 8 and, luckily for her, she actually has a vehicle she can drive and doesn't have to catch the bus every morning.
I make scrambled eggs and toast for myself and my brother as I wait for him to get downstairs, being sure to sprinkle extra salt, pepper, and hot sauce on his eggs, as well as very light butter on his toast, just the way he likes them. He takes a lot longer to get ready in the morning, though I don't understand how or why. He looks just as messy as I do each morning, his shirt often wrinkled or wearing the same pair of jeans as the day before. I don't question him, though. I remember the one time I did mention it to him, he went off on a tangent, saying they weren't "that" dirty and he didn't sweat enough for it to matter. I disagree with that statement, since he tends to leave a distinct smell of B.O. wherever he goes, but I'm not the one who dresses him.
Finally, Trent trudges down the steps, his backpack casually thrown over his shoulder and his chestnut brown hair messily covering his eyes. He falls into the chair at the kitchen table.
"Tired?" I ask teasingly, setting a plate of food in front of him. The smell of the eggs appears to perk him up, and he digs in without answering me. Rolling my eyes as I sit beside him, I begin eating my own scrambled eggs, topped with extra seasonings and a small side of ketchup. Besides the soft noises of chewing, we sit in silence. Neither of us are morning people, so mornings are usually pretty quiet in our house.
After finishing our breakfast, we clean up our mess and brush our teeth. We leave at 6:45 to make our 20 minute walk to the bus stop.
The walk to the bus stop is long and arduous, but being only October it is only going to get worse with the upcoming winter weather. Mom sometimes drives us to the bus stop when it's too snowy to walk, but some mornings we have to trudge through inches of snow if she is unable to. As a therapist, she has a lot of late-night sessions in the winter with Seasonal Affective Disorder settling in among certain clients. Trent and I understand, and don't mind walking in the snow when it's necessary. Our mom does a lot for us, and a morning or two of walking in the snow is nothing we can't handle.
When we get to our stop, Trent shoves his face in his phone and sits on the curb like he always does and I glance around, leaning against the Stop sign beside me. I check the time on my phone quickly. The bus seems to be running a bit late, which is not much of a surprise. Our bus driver, Mr. Robinson, is an apathetic, old man. He has a tendency to be late, especially in the winter. I just don't think he cares anymore. He's old enough that if he gets fired, he will just retire. He likes to brag to us about it on the bus, especially to Trent, who likes to sit as close to the front as possible in order for a quick escape off the bus.
The wind blows my brown hair out of my face as I wait. Exhaling deeply, my breath comes to life in the form of wisps of white in the brisk morning air. I look up towards the gray sky to see dark clouds rolling in closer, signaling rain is coming. Hopefully the rain won't start until Trent and I are safely under cover by the school building. As much as I don't mind rain, I'd rather stay out of it.
YOU ARE READING
To Save Her
Teen Fiction*Tw// suicide, gore, blood Tony's waiting for the bus when he sees a girl in his class committing suicide. He's not sure if it was a dream or maybe a vision...? Questions are running through his head of what he should do. Should he talk to her? Leav...
