POV

10.25.24

I had just stepped out of the bathroom, steam still swirling around me like a warm blanket, and a rush of nervous energy surged through me.

I dashed into my room, acutely aware of the potential embarrassment of someone catching a glimpse of me in nothing but a towel.

With a quick flick of my wrist, I locked the door, sealing myself in a bubble of solitude and safety.

I placed my soap container on the cabinet, its scent still clinging to my skin, and hurriedly grabbed my uniform.

Today felt different.

After a long suspension that began on Tuesday, I was finally returning to class.

My schedule said I wouldn’t be needed until later—between 4:30 and 6:30 PM—but today, I had a project to tackle alongside the mayor, my classmate.

Part of me wanted to decline, to shy away from the responsibility, but that nagging voice in my head wouldn’t let me.

What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t help out?

And deep down, I longed to escape the confines of my room, even if my body protested with fatigue.

I quickly slathered on some deodorant and lotion, the familiar scent of vanilla enveloping me like a comforting hug.

After slipping into my uniform, I took a moment to sit on the edge of my bed, wrapping the towel around my hair like a makeshift turban.

I rifled through my belongings until I found my mirror.

I needed to apply some cream to my face to at least appear somewhat human.

As I dabbed the cream on, my thoughts drifted to breakfast.

Should I eat?

I felt a familiar twinge in my stomach, but I quickly pushed it aside.

My body had grown accustomed to skipping meals, especially on Fridays, and I wondered if I could just wait until lunch.

Skipping meals had become a habit, a survival tactic born from a lack of food and funds.

I sighed, deciding I could forgo breakfast once again.

I searched for my comb, finally finding it buried in my backpack.

I stood up, brushing through my long hair, the strands cascading down like a waterfall.

Just as I was lost in thought, my phone beeped, jolting me back to reality.

It was a message from our group chat.

“No classes today!” I felt a flutter of excitement course through me.

My classmates’ replies flooded in, each one echoing relief and joy.

They would all get to return home, while I remained trapped in my boarding house, longing for the comfort of my own space.

With a sense of urgency, I texted the mayor to see if we were still heading to school.

A minute passed without a response, so I took a seat again, drumming my fingers impatiently on my knee.

I glanced into the mirror once more, catching a glimpse of a tired woman staring back at me.

“Are you okay?” I whispered, forcing a smile even as I felt the fatigue tugging at my features.

Just then, my phone chimed again—her response had arrived.

We were still on for our meeting, and I felt a rush of determination surge through me.

I quickly spritzed on some perfume and stepped out of my room, feeling slightly more alive.