Run Rabbit Run

Run Rabbit Run 7

Lara glanced at her alarm clock. Crud! Crud! Crud! She was going to be late. She shoved the covers off her bed , her feet skidding to her dresser. Where the heck were her jeans? She looked at her laundry hamper, then back at her empty drawer. Between the car, Ivy, and a plague of nightmares, she'd forgotten to do laundry. Fora minute she reached for a skirt, but as she slid it on, the waistband seemed to tighten like a vice. Plus she didn't feel like wearing a fancy shirt. No one will know, she told herself, pulling on her old jeans, and then a tee-shirt. I'll wash 'em after school. She flew down the stairs.

"Morning, Lara." Her mother greeted her.

"Hi mom, no time to talk. I'm late."

Her mother looked at the clock. "Goodness, you certainly are. I hope that wasn't because you overdid it this weekend?"

"Nope, probably relaxed too much." She yawned. "See, still sleepy."

"Well, at least have some breakfast."

"No can do," Lara responded grabbing a breakfast bar. "I hear the bus. Unless" she paused for a moment hopeful, "I can have the car again?"

"No. I need it this afternoon."

Lara grabbed her books off the table and ran for the door. "Bye mom."

Despite seeing the bus only a few doors down, Lara dashed towards the garage first. She'd examined the car thoroughly the other day, but she wanted to be absolutely sure everything was fine before she left. She'd had visions of someone sneaking in and destroying all her hard, and expensive, work from Sunday. Though the windows were less than clean, she could tell the car was still ok. She ran for the bus.

Breathing a sigh of relief as she sat down, Lara opened up her purse. A wad of babysitting money lay coiled in the corner. She fingered it. That money represented a lot of tough nights, but it was going for a worthy cause. Not the hightop she'd been saving up for after seeing Chelsea swan down the hallways in them, but definitely worth the cost of a hassle-free mom. Lara closed up her purse with a satisfying snap. She began to transfer her books into her backpack. It had been one weird weekend, she thought to herself, but at least all her homework was done. Lara let herself close her eyes and laid her head against the glass. It felt so good to be prepared for once. Then came second period and English.

Lara's English teacher was a romantic, favoring long flowing skirts, and peasant blouses. She let her hair flow freely down her shoulders. She would have fit right into a painting by Raphael, except for the glasses she wore. They were black and hard edged, and were a far better clue to her personality then her clothes.

Ms. Pembroke smiled at her class. "Good morning. Please pass your poems up to the front. And may I remind you that these are worth a quarter of your grade this term, so I hope you put your best effort forward. Nowadays, too many teachers neglect the finer arts of poetry for the more prosaic essay form. However, I am not one of those people."

Lara blanched. Poem, what poem? Frantically, she rifled through her homework. Had she done the assignment and just forgotten it. Maybe her To-Do notebook would give her a clue. English. English, there it was a month ago, then two weeks after that as a reminder and finally last week. But there was a check mark next to it. She must have completed it. She touched the page. Chocolate swirled on her finger. Oh no! Not only had that candy bar on Saturday probably given her the new zit on her forehead, it had hidden the missing checkmark. She was dead.

Everyone else was dutifully handing up their poems. Lara panicked. A quarter of her grade. Yale not fail, she heard her mother say in her head. What am I going to do? She scrunched back in her chair, wishing she could disappear inside of it, when something crackled.