Save Me

First Day of School

Sitting up quickly, I looked around, unsure of where I was for a moment. The soft snick of my clock brought me back.

Home.

I was home.

Home in my new house, with new siblings and mom's new husband, and today I'd be off to a new school...

Fantastic.

Looking at the clock angrily, I huffed as I pushed the blankets back. Knowing it was futile to try and go back to sleep, I slid to the edge of the bed, letting my feet land on the fuzzy rug. Every morning I woke up at six thirty. Every single morning. I'd blame it on the strict schedule we were forced to keep on the inside, but mom said even at a young age I'd sneak out of bed early. She often would beg me to go back to sleep. Especially on the weekends.

Crawling out of bed, I stumbled sleepily to my closet, opening the doors with a yawn. My mouth dropped opened when I saw how big and well stocked it was. Stepping inside, I flipped through the clothing hanging neatly on the rack. Running my fingers over a soft sweater, I noticed multiple popular brand names. This clothing was something we could never afford when I was growing up. Guilt swam in my stomach, my mind flashing to my friend still inside, still wearing that scratchy jumpsuit. I really didn't need flashy clothes or expensive brands, but it was their money... If Mamá and Martin wanted to spend their money this way, I would be grateful.

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Climbing out of the shower, I dried of with a fluffy towel. Like most of the things in my room, it was a soft blue color.

My favorite.

Gently, I combed all of the knots out of my hair, squeezing the excess water out with my towel. Dressing in a pair of black leggings, I chose a white, button-up blouse to go with it. It fell to just about mid-thigh and hung loose and flowy. After securing the last button, I eyed myself in the mirror. The sleeves hung just a bit too long, but a quick turning up of the cuff fixed the issue.

Opening the top drawer of the vanity, I found all sorts of makeup products. Not really knowing what I was doing, I applied the bare minimum. A swipe of mascara and a touch of shimmery chapstick.

The next drawer held hair stuff, which I skipped completely. My hair always ended up in a bun by the end of the day anyway. No sense in adding random products to it.

After hanging my towel on a hook, I went back to my closet, searching a shelf for a pair of shoes that took my eye earlier. Sneakers... Sandals... Flats...

Bingo!

A shiny pair of black combat boots smiled back at me. Tall. Heavy. Black laces from top to toe. Tugging them on, I laced them up, grinning as checked my work.

Bad. Ass.

Bouncing down the stairs, I walked into the kitchen to find my mom sitting at the island with a newspaper. A half eaten bagel sat beside her, a nearly empty glass of orange juice next to it. She looked up, dropping the paper with a smile.

"¡Buenos días, mija!"

"Hi, Mamá." I smiled, eyes burning with tears.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing..." I swiped beneath both eyes quickly. "It's just so good to be able to wake up in the morning and see you." I smiled weakly, five years of homesickness hitting me all at once.

"Come here." She wrapped me in a tight hug, rocking me softly.

"I've missed you so much, Mamá."