The Anti-Socialist

Chapter Five

Finally, after a few more hours, school was over.

As I headed towards my locker to drop off some books that weren't needed, Jake caught me.  

"Hey, do you have a ride home?" he asked.

I shook my head.  

"Well, do you want me to drive ya home?" he asked.

I shook my head again.  True, I didn't have a ride home, but my home wasn't that far away from the school.  I could walk home in less than fifteen minutes, no sweat.

Jake nudged me.  "Are you sure?" he asked.

I nodded and then....gave him another smile.  Jake smiled back.  "See you later then, Grace," he said, walking away.

I got to my locker, dropped off the books, and headed home.  The weather was nice, up here in Illinois.  It wasn't too hot, and it wasn't too cold in August.  The cool breeze brushed my face and whipped my hair around.  Being outside was relaxing, and it made me feel quite happy.

Then a leaf blew from a tree and smacked my face.  Yep, mother nature loves me back.  My shoulders began aching, so I shifted the straps of my backpack.  The wind paused slightly, my hair stopped flipping everywhere.

"Worst.  Day.  Ever," I muttered.  My day couldn't possibly get worse, I hoped.  But then again, I had learned to hope for the worst so that I wouldn't be disappointed.

Soon enough, my house loomed into sight.  I pulled out the keys from a hidden necklace under my shirt and unlocked the door.  I stepped inside and the wonderful scent of cinnamon greeted me.

"Hey, Grace, how was your first day?" Dad asked as soon as he saw me.

Well, I had a good cry inside my locker, a guy talked to me, and another guy grabbed my thigh.  It was a fudgin' great day, Dad, I wanted to snap, but instead, I said, "It was great, Dad."  I plastered a convincing smile across my face to prove my point.

"Good then!" he said cheerfully.  I sighed.  Dad obviously didn't know what it was like to be a sixteen-year-old in a school that's full of haters.

I hauled myself upstairs to my room and dropped my backpack on the ground.  I slammed the door shut and locked it, feeling tears springing up.  If on my first day of school, I had cried, I was going to have many more horrible days to come.

I plopped down on my bed, buried my face in my pillow and screamed as loud as I could, hoping that Dad wouldn't hear me downstairs.  I finally allowed the tears that I had kept back fall.  My lungs tightened, and I nearly choked.  My throat immediately felt raspy, and my nose felt clogged up too.  I lay there, crying for a few more minutes.  When I sat up, hair was plastered all over my face with tears.  

 "Darn it," I muttered, aggressively pulling my long, curly brown hair away from my face.  I dragged the back of my hand across my face, wiping my tears away.  The pressure that was on my chest lessened slightly.  I wiped the back of my hands across my jeans, got up, and went to the bathroom.

I looked into the mirror and was disgusted by the reflection.  My hair was slightly frazzled and had a few knots, due to the wind outside.  It was also a bit wet because of the tears I had just shed.  My bright blue eyes had a slightly wild look in them, and were also a bit pinkish from the crying.  My face was quite pale, and the zit on the side of my nose was still there.  My shirt was also slightly crumpled.

"Ugh, I look beautiful," I muttered, gazing at my hideous reflection.

I stooped over the sink and splashed some cold water into my face.  Ugh, I hated cold water.  My face immediately stung as more water hit my face.