A Twisted Infatuation

Waiting. Why was I waiting? Why was I waiting for the last alarm to go off? I was more than a little awake.

So, why was I waiting?

Because I wanted to savor the last moments of rest.

The shrill call of my phone exploded in my ears. Rolling my eyes, I picked it up and stopped the alarm, putting the volume on mute.

Fuck Mondays. Just fuck them.

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Okay, I was starting to have a major problem with waiting.

Phone in hand, I was concentrating on the screen-the time, sitting on the couch in my living room.6:56. One more minute.

You see, I have this routine every morning. I get up at 6:18, I change for ten minutes, or five, depending on decency. I put on and tie my shoes after that, take the dogs out so they can take their morning piss, and wake up my Mom at 6:48.

She usually gets in the car at 6:54. I wait until 6:57 to run outside and get in the car. After the first week of highschool last year, I realized leaving at that time was the perfect time. I'm not there too early to stand and wait for the gates to open, but I'm not late, either. The drive is nine or so minutes, so right when I get there, the gates open.

The digital six automatically turned into a seven.

I swung my bag over my shoulder and stood, strutting over to the door. I made sure to wave at both my half asleep dogs before walking out and closing the door. I heard the purr of the car's engine, and jogged to it. Once I slipped in and shut the door, my Mom began to drive.

Usually I would talk to her. Tell her stuff, complain about the temperature in the house, what I heard, or, something!

But, hell, it was morning.

Monday morning.

After the traffic jam with parents and students, my Mom parked across the side of the front sign, making me frown.

"Meet me in front of the sign," I lazily said. I always said this, I don't know why. I'm sure she got the memo. Opening the door, I slipped out, "Bye,"

"Bye,"Her voice sounded groggy, too.

After shutting the car door, I walked down the sidewalk and frowned. Why had she parked here?Parking here meant I had to cross the small street where cars went through.

I stopped when a car turned to go through, but they immediately stopped. My vision was blur, but I could barely see the figure of someone waving their hand for me to go forward. I waved back and jogged across to the front of the school, with very low hills and a written on front sign.

Compared to others, this school was incredibly small. A high school was meant to be big. This one, however, when put into comparison to others, was very small. Probably it was the fact that there was restricted areas. Freshmen are in this area, Sophomores are in this area, Juniors are in this area, Seniors of course get the best of areas. We also had lunch-on our grades, so the bells confused a lot of people. I thought this was all normal until I visited my cousins across state. I tell stories a lot, and they got so confused by the way I described my school, so I explained it to them.

Man, my school is so confusing, according to them.

At least, due to different classroom areas and lunch time hours, freshmen were safe from the upper classmen.

It was January 28, 2013. Of course I know. I'm in school, I need to know the dates.

I walked along the path, and before I reached the front gate, the doors and metal linked fence opened, letting people pile to the inner core of the campus. I go through.