Improbable

Prologue

My fingers curl comfortably around the polished steering wheel. Sweat from my palms mixed with the unbearable streaming heat of the sun are making this car journey borderline impossible.

As I take a left, my school comes into view. This is the last year. One more year before the real world hits me as if I haven't been knocked out by the thought of it first. We'll see. The parking lot is practically empty of people when I get there. A calm between storms. I'm late but I prefer being late than being on-time as being on time means I have to confront the hoards. I could be early but that means waking up earlier and I don't think that's physically possible.

My reflection in the rearview mirror shows a gathering of messy light brown hair which I threw into a bun when I hopped out of bed three minutes before I got in the car. My three-quarter jeans stretch around my tired but slim legs and a navy t-shirt sits comfortably on my torso. This outfit is consistent with the first things I could grab out of my closet. Hashtag fashion.

With a sigh, I put the car in park and rip my keys out of the ignition. I allow myself a moment to slump back in my seat before making the pretend rush to class because: "Oh no! I had car problems, Sir!" Closing my eyes means eternal darkness. It kind of sounds appealing compared to History class with Mr Bryson. Too bad I want good grades.

The door to the classroom has a small window in it allowing me the opportunity to glimpse into what I'm interrupting. Classmates all sit in different positions. I hate to admit stereotypes but most of the athletic people appear to be in daydreaming or texting under their desks. The more studious students, what some might label "nerds" appear to be trying to follow Mr Bryson's lesson. They move their hand across the paper, getting the words so quickly in their books they could be considered machines. They don't appear to be jamming as much as the athletes at least. Pun intended.

Blue floor stretches out before me. I could run back down this hallway. I could leave. But I won't because sadly I know myself too well. School means everything to me, education holds so much power over me. I wish it didn't.

I take a deep breath and do a quick sprint step thing on the spot before throwing the door open with widened eyes.

"Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry, Sir! My car broke down again on the way to school, and my phone ran out of battery!" I exaggerate believably. I should be an actress, my manipulation skills are bomb.

"Well, you should really get a new way of coming to school Ms Avery. Every day this week your car has had issues and its only been one week of school," Mr Bryson sighs. I wonder how done he is already. 

"Sorry, Sir. I'll find a permanent fix for my car this weekend," I quickly grab my seat in the back corner of the room by the window. The sky is so blue it feels mocking, like- "Hey, you! Yeah, you! You have a sucky life." Which I don't but the sky has attitude in my opinion. It's so free and full of wonders that never end. I envy the sky and its lack of burdens. It just is. Wouldn't it be amazing not to question yourself ever? The probability that I will find a purpose in life is so low like the chances of passing a paper from 5 minutes worth of typing. It's improbable.