Mere Seconds

~

It is said that it takes mere seconds to dream. The light seeping through the curtains emanated an alluring amber hue. The tranquil air was juxtaposed with the crackling of energy. A warm aura radiated throughout the room. The girl's eyelids opened cautiously, sensing that something was amiss.

She rose gingerly from her creaking bed and glanced around the minuscule quadrilateral she called her own. Her gaze wandered over to the haphazard stack of books on the floor, worn out and dog-eared from their previous owners, her most prized possessions. The familiar feeling of anxiety crept up her chest. She longed to remain in bed and escape into one of her beloved worlds, but instead willed herself to face the day ahead.

The bus ride to school was long and dreary. She could feel every bump and dip on the road as it reverberated up her aching legs, heading towards the center of her spine that groaned with complaint. A squeak escaped her lips as the bus halted to an unforgivingly brusque stop, throwing off her momentum and planting her face onto the chair in front of her.

"Whoa, that crazy son of a gun. At this rate, we're all going to die soon. Are you okay?" The flustered boy's impish face inquired behind the edge of the offending seat.

The gap between his two front teeth was complemented by a spattering of freckles across his nose and cheeks. An unruly mop of hair was slowly making its way over the frame of his glasses. She'd have to convince him to cut his hair soon. His little sister Emma had begun calling him SpongeBob behind his back. The girl giggled at the thought before she reassured Reid of her well-being.

The foster children possessed the friendliest demeanors she had ever encountered. They maintained hope against all odds of misery. It pained her to think of how the evils of the world could one day take them hostage. Her own demeanor was hidden beneath the angry snarls of her curls, whose temperament could not be tamed. She wondered what it would be like to have silken, glossy hair adorning a beautiful face that turned heads and claimed hearts.

When she was younger, her consolation was the so-called "inner beauty" her books sang praises for. Now, at sixteen years of age, battling her own gruesome self, she knew it did not apply to her. She had failing grades, a deteriorating health, a wavering sanity, and no ambition.

Ambition was a dangerous path she had tread before. A trap she would not fall into again. The closest thing she had approached recently was hoping that the part time job she had taken would turn into a full time occupation once the newly-wed Elaine conceived an offspring. Survival was her only concern, and yet there were days where it seemed redundant. Days where food was but a nuisance and school a legal enforcement she longed to escape.

Then again, the foster home was not a preferred alternative. School, with its daunting halls and tormenting inhabitants, was a safe haven for her and the children. Two more years. Two more years and she would finally be free, she repeated over and over to herself as she struggled against the staircase. Her feeble arms struggled to grasp at the railing as she neared the top. Inhale. Exhale. The obstacle course was far from over.

As soon as she entered the hall she could feel the intensity of the gazes directed at her. The oxygen levels seemed to drop dramatically. The atmosphere darkened abruptly. She glimpsed through her defensive shield of hair at the unapologetic stares of her peers. The judgement was evident in the crease between their eyebrows, the distaste in their piercing eyes, the downward slope of their frowns. Some seemed somewhat sympathetic, others were smirking tauntingly. None were brave enough to approach.

It's not their fault, she told herself as she limped painfully across the room. They've been conditioned by society to appraise others at face value. All she could do was minimize the impact of her presence until she was invisible, a ghost of a girl, hovering over the halls, drifting in and out of the classrooms. Soon enough, the silence was over, and everyone reverted back to their conversations, their morning otherwise unaffected. The ghost that haunted their halls had moved on to the confines of the washroom.