Behind the Bad Boy

Chapter Three

“Here we are!” My mom exclaimed.

“Yay,” I said, feigning happiness.

We were parked in front of Hillsburry High—yes, Hillsburry—inside my mom’s car. It had taken a ten minute drive to get here, which went by way too fast. On our way here, I prayed for all the lights to turn red and for the streets to be packed. Due to my unluckiness, the lights all turned green when we came, and the cars seemed to take it out of their time to clear the way for us.

“We’ll be there in no time!” My mom had commented during those events.

But even more nerve wracking than arriving was what went down in my room this morning.

Let’s just say it wasn’t pretty.

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“Bring! Bring! Bri—,”

Slam!

That was the sound of my fist hitting my alarm. Which happened to be my phone.

I was probably going to need a new phone.

Groaning, I sat up, rubbing my eyes groggily. I only got a few hours of sleep, because my pituitary gland decided not to release enough melatonin, and my brain decided to think about all the negative things that could happen the next day.

That’s right. Grade A science geek, right here.

When it was time to get ready, I took the fastest shower in the history of showers. Or at least, my history. I needed all the time I could to get ready, with me being so indecisive, although most of my morning routine consisted of fixing my hair. My friends and my relatives always told me I shouldn’t worry so much about my appearance because I had “natural beauty,” but I refused to listen. They didn’t see my bed head every day when I woke up. And I never planned on letting them either.

Standing in front of my closet in the dim morning light, I dove into my closet (literally), and tore through my clothes (less literally).

After some deep thinking, a whole lot of pacing, and a humongous pile of colors behind me, I decided to settle on a light outfit. I chose a gray tank top with a green flannel on top, along with my blue denim shorts.

I quickly brushed my hair, leaving it open. I didn’t really own any makeup aside from an old eyeliner stick, so I didn’t bother with my face.

Heading downstairs, I quickly grabbed a bowl and the cereal box, tripping on the way, and dropping the box in the process. Hastily, I swept the floor, clearing it of cereal flakes.

As I scarfed down my meager breakfast, I greeted my mom, who was hurrying down the stairs so she could drive me to school. Oh, right. Until we were completely settled down, both cars were being used—one for my dad to drive to work, since it was close by, and one for my mom if she needed anything while we were all gone. I would get to drive soon enough though.

Not bothering to eat breakfast, as she could get some when she got back, my mom ushered me towards the door. I quickly slipped on my flip-flops, grabbed my bag, and followed her outside.

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So anyways, here we are now.

I chewed on my lip, until my mom told me to stop. That was a really bad habit. I really have to stop doing that.

As more buses and cars started coming in, I turned to my mother.

“Thanks for the ride Mom.” I told her.