Cloud 9

Pilot

"Honey, wake up!"

Ugh...mother. I flutter my eyes open to see her straightening up my room. 

"Kylie get up you lazy head. You have an hour before your father has to drive you to school!" she set out my clothes for the day and pulled my sheets off of me. The frigid air bit at my skin.

"Hey!" I reached for my sheets to 'cocoon' myself, "five more minutes," I grumbled. My mother once again pulled the sheets and set down a cup of coffee on my bedside table. 

"Oooooh thank you," I sat up and held the warm cup in my hands. Coffee was my drug. As my mother left, I slowly stood up. Before I looked in the mirror I knew my hair was a disaster. 

I rubbed my face and turned the sink faucet. Pulling my hair back into a ponytail, I washed my face with cold water to get rid of my bags. I walk back to the outfit chosen by mother herself. With one glance, I already hated it. She picked out a jean skirt, with pink stockings, and a white blouse. Hell no. 

I choose an American Eagle shirt with some black leggings that I would wear with my white high tops. Much better. I continue getting ready with brushing my teeth and styling my hair, yet I don't wear makeup. I don't feel the need to.  I make my way downstairs and see my dad drinking his coffee while reading the newspaper.

"Hey dad," I say. He looks up from the paper and smiles. 

"Kylie, that's not the outfit I picked out for you..." my mother realizes, putting down a plate of french toast on the table. I give her a shrug and pretty much devour my breakfast. 

When I finish, I grab my Vera Bradley backpack and wait in the car for my dad. He doesn't take long, but when he sits in the drivers seat I exaggerate is slowness. I love my dad so much. He's always there for me when I need him and I can trust him with anything. 

"So, you excited?" he asked.

"Eh...ten months of torture." I answered. He slapped my leg and I laughed. 

"You can't go in the first day already feeling like you're dying inside. Make the first day count" he gave me the advice. I sighed, leaning my head on my hand against the door. About eight minutes pass until we got there. Charlie High was not too big, yet not too small. Almost perfect. My dad pulls up to the main entrance and I leave, kissing him on the cheek goodbye. When I shut the car door, I stand...just to look. I guess I was looking (more like staring) for awhile since my dad lowered the window asking if I was okay. Sadly, I was. 

I walked up the cement stairs. The cold air sent chills down my spine. I grasped the door handle and entered probably my worst nightmare.