I Choose You

Don't You Worry Child

UNEDITED

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"My father said,

"Don't you worry, don't you worry, child.

See heaven's got a plan for you.

Don't you worry, don't you worry now."

Yeah!..."

- Swedish House Mafia "Don't You Worry Child"

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Rain.

Sometimes, I absolutely loathed the rain.

If I had been experiencing the downpour under better circumstances, I would have felt the opposite. Rainstorms could be beautiful, fun, and exciting — when in the comforts of my own home. Add a hot chocolate and a novel to my hands and it would be my favorite kind of day. However, I despised the rain when it was something I had to trudge through in order to get to school.

Looking down at my cranberry-colored red flats, I cursed myself for choosing to wear such thinly clothed shoes. They were soaked through and through from large puddles I accidentally stepped into, as well as by some I could not avoid along the way. Regrettably, my feet were paying the ultimate price.

I cringed once more when I felt the bottom of both my feet collide with the soggy insoles of my shoes. It was not a pleasant feeling.

Eventually, I reached the front doors of the school with a scowl. I closed my black and white polka-dotted umbrella and promptly walked in, ready finally to escape the torrential rainstorm that put a damper on my morning.

A blast of heat hit me as soon as I entered the building. Feverishly, I unlatched the buttons of my winter raincoat, eager to shed off the thick garment.

Silently, I prayed that the rain would cease before school let out. There wasn't a fiber of my being that liked the idea of walking three more miles in rain to get home.

"You have no right to search my shit!" A raised voice spoke, causing the entrance lobby to go dead silent.

Just like everyone else in the room, my head snapped over to where I heard the voice.

Mr. Phillips, one of our teachers at Westberry High, was rummaging through a dark-colored backpack. "I have every right, Son," Mr. Phillips clarified without even bothering to look up from his search.

It was true. The teachers at our school had the right to search any student's backpack — at any point of the day, for any reason. You were most likely to get searched, however, in the morning when you first walk into the school. It was a policy our principal, Dr. Bode, passed several years beforehand.

The policy came after a student brought a knife to school. The parents had raised hell that there were not enough 'safety measures'. So, Dr. Bode came up with the idea of having five teachers at the entrance of the school, every morning.

The assigned teachers would monitor everyone walking into the school. Their job was to randomly select students to go through the metal detectors. In addition, the instructors would look through the person's belongings. Dr. Bode promoted it as the school's way of taking a stand for the safety of each student.

"Prick," The person next to Mr. Phillips said, loud enough for everyone in the entrance hall to hear.

My attention became drawn to the person next to Mr. Phillips. Suddenly, my heart skipped a few beats because standing next to the teacher was Alexander Black.

Alexander ran a hand through his black hair and then bit his bottom lip. He was clearly avoiding saying some more ugly choice of words to the teacher.

"What's this?" The teacher asked as he pulled out an orange bottle. Mr. Phillips gave the bottle a loud shake, filling the hallway with the rattling sounds of pills continuously colliding with each other and the container. Mr. Phillips stopped his dramatic antics, after a few prolonged seconds, before examining the pill bottle label.