School Bell

Dear Diary,

It's 5:46 in the afternoon, but the sky looks like its 8:00 at night.

As you already know,  we've moved. Again. Five times in a year. Ca you say brutal?

After the accident, things just haven't been normal.

Maybe abnormal is good. It keeps me on my toes. 

This might just be wishful thinking but...I think we might stay here, permanently.

I hear three knocks on my bedroom door. I assume it's Janice, my aunt. I mean, it’s obviously Janice. Who else could it be?

I’ve been living with Janice for about a year now. She likes to think of herself as the cool aunt, with her platinum blonde hair and numerous multicolored highlights, fashion sense comparable to that of a person still living in the late 80’s, and her questionable vocabulary or…lingo, as she calls it. She’s always had a penchant for anything exotic. I call her Janice because she will not tolerate, by any circumstances whatsoever, to be called any variation of the word aunt. She says it makes her seem older. 

"Come in", I tell her from my bed.

She pokes her head in before entering the room completely.

"Are you finished unpacking?" She asks me.

"Not really. I stall have a few boxes to finish" I respond.

I notice she's holding some sort of red book in her arms that I've never seen before, not even while I was helping her pack everything.

"What's that you've got there, Janice? I asked her.

"I've been waiting for the right time to give you this" She starts explaining.

"Uh, what's that supposed to mean?" I ask her. She's acting strangely anxious. Normally she's very calm and collected. Nothing really breaks her composure...except the lottery. The house goes nuts every time she thinks she’s about to win. She’s also speaking…like a normal person.

"This is going to sound crazy, but-" She continues.

"Great way to start the explanation, Janice. Not freaking out here at all" I interrupt. 

"No, no. Don't agitate yourself. It's nothing bad. Jesus. I swear, you're more anxious than a Chihuahua during a Fourth of July festival" She retorted. 

"Okay, okay. Calm, cool, and collected. Sorry for interrupting." I reply. 

I'm actually not calm at all. If I didn't know any better I'd say my aunt is high as a kite. Is my aunt high? Please don't tell me she's popping pills like they're M&M's. For all I know she could tell me anything. Is she pregnant? Am I pregnant? Does she have a boyfriend? Did she finally win the lottery? 

"Back to what I was saying. This has been in our family for so many years now" She continues.

What? A red, ugly-looking book? Thanks for the useful information, Janice.

"It's quite difficult to explain right now, you'll just have to learn as you go along." She proceeds explaining. "This might sound fictional, but-- I guess you should just open it yourself." 

With much anticipation I grab the book from my mother’s arms. Upon further inspection, it's not really a book. It's made out of metal. It's like a box.

 I carefully put it on my bed and begin to open the lid. It has like weird lock on it but I'm still able to open it. 

As I open the box and reveal it's contents. to my amazement it's a...

It's the fugliest pocket watch I've ever seen. 

It's gold. Or maybe it's silver. I can't surely say. It's extremely dirty. I'm going to have to wash my hands after touching this. I'd figure my aunt would take better care of this thing. 

Aren't boys supposed to get these from their fathers? I definitely need to hide the pills in our bathroom cabinet and all of the glue sticks and markers from Janice. Maybe if I smile and nod my head she'll go away.

She laughs. "Why are you looking at me like that? I'm not crazy." She informs me.

Could have fooled me.

"Uh, thanks for the vintage pocket watch, Janice. It's just what I wanted..."  I tell her and fake a smile. That's all that's coming to my mind.

A chuckle escapes her throat. "Try and grasp this. If you don't want this watch the that's perfectly fine with me. But, it will certainly make your life a little easier. Well, not exactly easier but it will answer a very important question everyone asks themselves."  Janice explained. 

"It's very special to our family" She added.

What the heck? What's next? Is she going to tell me this watch tells me when I'm going to die?

"And what would it be answering exactly?" I ask her, noticing my throat has gone dry. Janice has a very...particular way of telling me news. It's like she purposely tries to be exceptionally vague and mysterious. 

Since the accident I haven't been enjoying surprises and mysteries very much.

"Well, it tells you how much time is left until you meet your significant other..."

I stare at her blankly. All I can do is stare. I lower my gaze back to my diary and see the word 'abnormal' written.

Nothing could depict this situation more perfectly than the word abnormal.

Now that I think of it, abnormal is definitely not good.