Waiting for the Sun ✓

Chapter One

Hey, everyone! This is my first story and I hope you all enjoy it [2013].

[This is the newly re-written version of this chapter - 23/7/19]

      My heart thumped in my chest as I sprinted across the dry lawn sprawled out in front of the school. The February heat grazed my bare skin, hot and relentless. Though it was only a little after nine-thirty in the morning, I was already sweating through my school uniform. As it turned out, a three-minute sprint from the bus stop was not very enjoyable on a thirty-two-degree summers day.

      When I reached the school's entrance door, I yanked it open and scrambled inside. My footsteps thudded against the grey linoleum and echoed through the vacant hallway as I rushed towards my locker.

      I was over an hour late for class.

      Usually, that wouldn't have been an issue. However, when the principal has threatened you with a suspension over the past several weeks due to tardiness, poor grades, and questionable behaviour – his words, not mine – being late was not something you wanted to do. Yet there I was, running late with no plausible excuse other than the bus driver decided that stopping to pick me up wasn't something he wanted to do today.

      That, and I had also pressed snooze on my alarm at least three times.

      Careening around the corner of the hallway, I slammed into something hard. A phone that wasn't mine clattered against the wall of lockers to my left before landing face down on the linoleum. I stumbled backwards before I righted myself, blinking in surprise. Glancing up at the person who bumped into me, I froze. Unease swept through my stomach and my chest tightened.

      "Are you kidding me?" Max O'Brien snapped, his eyes filling animosity as glared at me. Crouching down, he collected his phone and studied the screen. "You are so lucky my phone didn't smash."

      I flinched before I could stop myself.

      "I'm sorry. I-I didn't mean to." The words tumbled from my mouth, sounding weak even to my own ears. I wrung my hands as I stared up at him, unable to move.

      "Get out of my way. I don't have time for this," Max said harshly. Reaching out, he shoved me aside.

      I crashed into a locker and one of the metal locks jammed into my shoulder. A sharp pain travelled down my arm, but I barely registered it. I flinched again, wrapping my arms around my torso.

      Without another word, Max stormed off down the hall.

      I sagged against the lockers and took a few deep breaths to slow my racing heart. Moments later, I pushed away from the lockers and shuffled over to where mine was. My hands were trembling as I unlocked it, placed my bulky schoolbag inside and retrieved the books I needed. I headed to Maths, my first lesson of the day, even though it was almost over.

      My palms were coated in a layer of sweat when I pushed open the classroom door. I hung my head as I weaved through the rows of occupied desks until I found a free chair. My skin prickled as a result of the unwanted attention from everyone as I placed my books down onto the desk and sat down.

      Mr Young scribbled illegibly across the whiteboard, explaining equations that made as much sense to me as the language of Swahili did. Exhaling slowly, I opened my maths book and extracted a pencil from my pencil case.

      Concentration eluded me and non-mathematic thoughts swirled through my crowded skull. I couldn't focus on anything Mr Young was saying nor could I bring myself to attempt any of the work we were supposed to be doing.

       When the teacher finished going through equations on the whiteboard, his eyes darted to where I was sitting. I glanced away, acting as though I was busy reading through my maths textbook. Moments later, Mr Young was standing before me, his arms crossed over his chest.

      "Lacey, you were late to class again today," Mr Young commented, his expression one of disapproval.

      Reluctantly, I looked up. My heart rate accelerated. "I'm sorry," was all I said.

      Mr Young sighed. "I thought we talked about this. Punctuality is important, especially now that you're in Year 11. Do I have to alert the principal to your tardiness again?"

      I shook my head, my long, blonde hair whipping around my face. "I'm trying. I really am."

      "Doesn't look like it. Lacey, if you don't start taking things seriously, we may have to contact your parents and get them involved."

      I stilled and my sweaty hand curling around the pencil. Panic crawled down my throat and settled in my chest. My heart dove against my ribcage, pounding in my ears.

      If the school contacted my dad, things would become far worse than they already were. I couldn't let that happen. I'd rather spend the rest of my lunchtimes this year in detention than have my dad find out that I was slacking in school.

      Mr Young gave me a pointed look. "I can see you don't want that. So, let's work on trying a little harder, okay?"

      I nodded again, afraid of speaking. I wasn't sure I was capable of forming any words at that moment.

      The teacher returned to the front of the room, addressing the class again. Despite my best efforts, focusing on anything that was going on became an impossible feat. I tried not to dwell on Mr Young's words and the possibility that the school might contact my dad. If I did, I would spiral out of control.

      Instead, I found myself unintentionally replaying my encounter with Max over and over again. Our interaction had been surprisingly mild this morning. Usually, he'd sling threats and vile words in my direction, then bask in my terror of him. He'd make it so difficult to breathe that the world would sway beneath my feet. I wasn't sure why he didn't try to terrorise me after I bumped into him, but I was relieved for the reprieve, even if I knew it wasn't going to last.

      For as long as I could remember, Max had gone out of his way to make my already miserable life even more so. I couldn't recall ever doing anything to him, so his bullying always seemed to be unfounded. Just pure, undiluted cruelty.

      He wasn't the only person at school who loathed me. I could disappear from the face on the earth and not a single person in this entire building would miss me or care. It was something I had long-since accepted, but that didn't mean I wasn't growing weary of the constant loneliness.

      This loneliness wassuffocating me, and sooner or later, I was going to run out of air.