Beyond The Grave

Part 1 ~ Gracelyn

     September first. Every teenagers least favorite day of the year.

The day summer ends.

The ending of happiness.

The day we begin school. 

Opening my eyes, I see a pool of drool covering my pillow, still running down the corner of my mouth. My laptop sits in front of me and a half empty bag of cheese doodles lays beside it.

Last I remembered those cheese doodles had just been opened. 

Cute.

I unlock my laptop and check the time. Instead of opening to the home screen, it displays the ending credits of Ten Things I Hate About You, a fan favorite. 

I close my tabs and look at the corner of my laptop.

6:40.

Not at night, in the morning. School starts at seven on the dot.

"Fuck, shit, bitch, fuck!" I scream an appalling amount of curse words. If my nona was here she would pass out. Too bad she's dead. Probably rolling in her grave as we speak.

As any rom-com typically starts, I wake up late on my first day of junior year. Too bad my life is anything but a rom-com. 

Where is my Patrick Verona, or Benjamin Berry?

Life isn't fair.

I had the whole morning planned.

I would wake up at 5:30, shower and make my bed. Then I would do my makeup and hair. I would put on the outfit I carefully placed out the night before. Once I finished all that up, I would put my pre-packed lunch in my bag, then I would hitch a ride to school with my older brother.

Of course, Tommy would have made me pay a fee for his Uber services. But that can't happen since he's already left for work. 

My parents left Tommy and I the day he turned eighteen. I was only seven. Ever since then, Tommy had to grow up quickly. He was a surgeon now and made good money. While he went to medical school I lived with my Nona. She passed away a year after I moved back in with Tommy. 

Tommy takes good care of me and himself. He gets me what I need, and gets me where I need to go. He is basically my father and brother in one. 

I quickly jump in the shower at lightning speed. 

No time to shave. I guess I'll go into school looking like a big, hairy gorilla.

Lovely.

I throw on a plain white tube top and black cargo pants. Our temperatures on Long Island are as bipolar as Amber Heard. 

I braid my long, wet blonde waves that fall to my waist into a fishtail.

Adding a tad of mascara, I grab my school bag and run out the door. The bus comes in three minutes, though my bus stop is all the way down the block. 

Taking off in a sprint, I make it as the bus pulls up.

"Aw great, my favorite. Hey there Gracie," my favorite bus driver, DJ, says with as much enthusiasm as a dog when you say the word "vet."

"Glad to see you too, DJ!" I flash my biggest smile at him. He chuckles, knowing my sarcasm.

I take a seat at the front and pull out my air-pods and listen to my Chase Atlantic playlist in peace.

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The bus pulls up to Kingston high at exactly 6:53.