The Bus Plan (NaNoWriMo 2013)

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Hey! I'm "The Storm Unseen" on the NaNo site, so you can friend me if you like. I'll be updating my story here as I update the word count there. Remember, this is completely unedited, so if you criticize, keep in mind that I haven't gone back and read it. At all.

Dedicated to Sarah W, or WritingMaiden, because she introduced me to NaNo last year. Thanks Sarah!

Nov. 1st- 2,011 words

~Catherine Peterson~

I twirled my pencil around my fingers as the Chemistry teacher drones on and on. Sure, it was a bit confusing, but there was no need to take notes. I had Rebecca, Harry, and Alissa to help me. Really, it was a good system we've developed, each subject covered, and then we all pitch in on science, since it's not anyone's favorite. I shut my notebook, no longer keeping up the pretense of paying attention, and start daydreaming about going home and doing math. 

I know what you're thinking. She didn't mean math, surely not that horrid torture device! I assure you, I'm perfectly serious. Math is man's greatest accomplishment, no matter what Rebecca or Harry or Alissa will tell you. So there I was, staring at Mr. Barker with glazed eyes, when motion out the window drew my attention. I turned my slow zombie gaze to see the white and gold athletic bus pulling into the parking lot, where a group of kids are waiting. The swim team? Football team? Eh, what's the difference, really...? There's far too much focus on athletics at Cloud Valley High School, in my opinion. Sure, we have to pass an entrance examination, but I could have passed its mathematics section in third grade. Really, all of it was fairly simple, and the only thing I struggled with was the history. History is so illogical! No formulas or rules, just a few crazy people with too much power and money. Bor-ing. In the midst of my internal rant on athletics, the bell rings- A flat. The bell was always a very flat A natural. I carefully store the notebook and pencil in their respective places in my backpack, and headed off to German.

Ugh. Languages.

That's Rebecca's thing. I suppose she was just weird like that, like me and my love of Calculus, or Harry and his love of history. 

"Hey, Cat. Ready to sprecht deutsch?" I groaned in response as Alissa came to walk beside me. 

"Don't even! I can't handle German, you know that better than I do." She laughed, and ran a hand through her close-cut red hair. 

"Unlike your spoken English, you handle your foreign language pretty well, lassie." 

"My English is finer than most people's!" I protest. Alissa merely shook her head sadly, like someone had died. 

"You have no idea how truly atrocious I sometimes find your grammar," she added. 

"The same way you find sweatpants atrocious?" I tease.

"Worse," she replied, wrinkling her freckled nose in disgust. "Did you see what my mom did to me this morning?"

"No..." I said, now confused.

"She washed both my Thursday kilts!" she wailed, and sure enough, she was sporting a pair of dark jeans instead of one of her usual, but rather non-traditional, kilts. "And on a Thursday! So I had to wear jeans." I sighed and patted her shoulder, which was a good few inches above my own.

"Poor Liss. I guess your parents just don't understand your obsession with Scotland," I say sympathetically.

"Or Anime," she grumbled, "Or English! They just don't see what's good in life," she concluded despondently, shaking her head again.