Fat Chance

Anxiety

The whole school day went by in a blur I was so anxious.  I didn't even notice the sweat pouring into my eyes in PhyEd, nor did I notice having to write in my journal in English ( I wrote a whole paragraph full of lies, about how I was doing absolutely great. Not like Ms. Rat Face will know the difference.) And it only SLIGHTLY annoyed me that Ms. Mortiello still wasn't back yet. I just sat and watched Rihanna music videos until the bell rang.

I really couldn't face taking the bus home, so I decided I would either walk home or score a ride with Dad. The walking thing didn't appeal to me, because lets be honest...I'm fat, I hate even THINKING about any form of exercise, especially walking 10 miles away to my house. Also, it wasn't a nice day out. It was lightly snowing and I knew that in a few hours it could develop into a full blown blizzard.

After the bell rang, I went to the main office to call my dad. I knew he probably wouldn't be too happy to have to come get me on his day off, but I'll just beg and plead and maybe fake an illness and he'll be fine.

The main office was a small room in the center of the school with one long wooden desk shoved against one wall and 2 small cots set against the other two. By one of the cots was a huge wooden cabinet full of first aid stuff; medicines, blankets, bandages, CPR instructions. This little room was both the main office, the attendance office, the nurses office, and the guidance counselors office, who was also the principal. All run by two people, the principal/guidance counselor (Mrs. Harris) and the secretary, Mrs. Lawrence.

I had never really had to go to the main office for anything since I've come to this school; I avoid having to go to the nurses, I'm pretty much never absent or tardy, and I also tried to never get in trouble so I wouldn't have to talk to the guidance counselor/principal, so I didn't really know either women that well. The only time I had ever talked to Mrs. Harris was the beginning of last year, when I first enrolled at this school, but I don't really remember much about her, just the fact that she was very old and very boring.

Same thing with Mrs. Lawrence. No one really noticeable, kind of a plain jane. But she was still a niceish person, so I always made sure to say  "hi" to her when I saw her in the hallway.

I walked into the main office and approached the end of the big wooden desk that Mrs. Lawrence was sitting at. She was currently on a call, so I backed up a bit and waited, looking at the different lame school posters on the walls. They all looked like they were from fucking 1934 or something. One of them so old, that the poster was yellowing at all four corners and starting to shred. But it was better then the walls being empty, I guess.

As soon as Mrs. Lawrence got off the phone, I turned to approach her again. But before I could walk even an inch or open my mouth to speak, she screamed.

"Oh my lord! Quinn! You dyed your hair!"

I had to run my hands through my hair for a few seconds to even remember what she was talking about.

"Oh, yeah. I dyed it about a week a go." And to be completely honest, I already felt it was more my natural hair color than my natural hair color had ever been. If that even makes fucking sense.

Mrs. Lawrence nodded. "I have to say, it looks good on you. Would never have thought it, but it does."

I forced myself to smile. "Thanks."

She winked. "No problem. What did you need, my dear?"

Ugh. I hated when teachers called me that. "my dear." But I swallowed my annoyance and looked at her.

"I need to use the phone really quick."

"To call a parent?" she asked.

I rolled my eyes silently. FUCKING DUH.

"Yes,' I said, trying to keep the sarcasm out of my voice. "I'm calling my Dad for a ride."

Mrs. Lawrence nodded. "That will be fine." She picked up the receiver and handed it to me over the desk. "What's the number? I'll dial it for you."

I gave her my Dad's cell number and she handed me the receiver. 

The phone rang three times before I got an answer.

"Hello?"

"Hello, Dad?"