The School for the Elite

Chapter 3: An Old Friend

Work was pretty horrible today. Gloria was right, the customers were all absolute terrors. As I walk back from work at 7:00 pm, I fish my essay out of my bag and quickly glance at what I wrote. I finished the whole thing in a matter of thirty minutes, during my breaks at the cafe. I had already reviewed and rewritten different sections of the essay and was confident in the product of my efforts. As I return the paper to my backpack, I walk by an old playground a few blocks away from my preschool. I stop and stare at the yellow slide and the animal spring riders that sit in a cluster at the corner of the miniature sandpit. I focus my attention on a little cow spring rider, for it reminds me of my days in elementary school.

In the second grade, I had a friend who went by, well, I can't remember his name anymore. It started with a D, I think. He was the first friend I ever made since my parents died from circumstances I am still not fully aware of yet. I remember he fell off that cow and began bawling from rocking back and forth too fervently. I had been waiting to ride it, so I was slightly annoyed that he was refraining me from getting on the cow. I told him to get up and brush himself off, then quickly directed him away from the rider and got on the cow. He had looked at me in awe, since I, unlike him, didn't fall off the rider so easily. He was quite easy to impress. 

We played at that playground for months after, until he and his family mysteriously disappeared. He just didn't show up for school one day, or the next, or the next. It was as if he hadn't existed at all. My first friend, and he never even said goodbye.

But that is all in the past, and I continue on my trek home after a few fleeting moments of reminiscing on my younger years. As I walk, I suddenly feel a pulsing at my temples, and have to grab onto the railing of the stairs I am ascending to steady myself. I've had multiple headaches that passed quickly throughout the day so far, but this had to be by far the most horrible of them. I felt as though my very skull was shattering.

"Agh, what is wrong with me today!" I screech, crouching to my knees and holding my head in my hands. It's dark out, and no one is around. I cry out once more, massaging my head roughly as if the pain would halt after I  applied some force. This only manages to make it worse. I stand abruptly, run up the rest of the stairs, and stand still. I feel like banging my head against a wall to make the pain go away, but instead, I continue looking at the star-lit sky. As I take in a few deep breaths, the pain subsides and becomes nothing but a slight annoyance pulsing near the back of my skull. 

I begin walking again, this time hurrying in case my unwanted company decides to inconvenience me once again. I see my apartment building, a small thing that was quite literally enveloped by trees and vines, and make my way to the entrance. There's a sciurus sitting in front of the door, its scaled back and long tail a vibrant yellow under the light that shines above the door. I shoo it away, stomping my foot a few feet away from it. It hisses at me, then scurries into the brambles.

I quickly place my hand on the pad next to the entrance door, wait for it to scan my palm, and enter the building. The structure is not exactly impressive, for the purchase of the apartments within are a small sum, and the bills are even cheaper. I walk towards the elevator, only to see a small piece of paper printed that reads;

Elevator not in Service, Please use the Staircase 

I sigh, for the day could not possibly get any worse. I live on the twentieth floor, and though I don't mind exercise, it seemed the universe hated me a good deal more than it did a few days ago.  

I hike up the stairs, reciting my essay from memory, nitpicking at my work out loud to myself. It seems that a few things have to be revised in my work when I get back to my apartment. I reach the twentieth flight of stairs, finally, and place my palm once more on the pad next to my door. I hear the click of the lock mechanism and step into my apartment.

It's nothing grand, and there are only three small rooms. My bedroom, bathroom, and living room/dining room/kitchen. I toss my bag on the small navy sofa sitting in the middle of the room, facing a TV built into the wall. I throw myself next to my bag and lean my head back.

I can't go to sleep yet, for after checking the clock I realize it was only 8:00 pm. I still have work to do for school, for my student council president role, and to make sure that I am guaranteed a perfect 100 for the next five tests to come.

I hoist myself off the sofa, stretch briefly, and get to work.