Supernova

Chapter 1 The Hard-Knock Life

My alarm clock went off. Again. 

It does that every day. And every day I proceed to hit the snooze button. Again. And again. That day was an ordinary day. A Thursday. I never have been good at Thursdays. Hopefully today would be better than the other eight hundred and thirty-six Thursdays I've had in my life. 

Funny. I was born on a Thursday. 

I got up, and put on an old t-shirt, some thoroughly battered jeans, and my usual hoodie. I have them in a wide assortment of colors, though I usually wear the grey, black, or navy ones. Unfortunately, on this particular Thursday, I hadn't finished my laundry, so I was stuck wearing red. 

I would finish the laundry later.

I went into the kitchen, and put a Pop Tart in the toaster, and pressed down on the handle. I put the other one in a Ziploc bag for lunch. I fixed myself a glass of milk, and drank it as I waited for my frosted treat. 

Ding! Creeeeaaaak, schwoom, the toaster said, letting me know my breakfast was served. I used a fork to pry the long-since-broken handle up, and quickly took the Pop Tart out, so as not to burn my already trembling fingers. 

I chewed slowly, and took my time swallowing to give the illusion that this was a proper breakfast. 

I would go grocery shopping later. 

I put the plate I had used and the glass in the already overcrowded sink. 

I would finish the dishes later.

I walked to the door of the small apartment my mom and  had. I grabbed my thick coat, gloves, scarf, and backpack, and walked down the stairs, locking the door behind me.

I sat down just outside the door to the building, waiting for Michael, my ride. I rubbed my hands together in an attempt to get warm, but to no avail. Thankfully,  Michael's car has a working heater. 

I checked my watch. 7:08. Any minute now...

Sure enough, I saw Michael's car come around the corner. I stood up and waved so he would see me. He slowed down, and unlocked the door. 

"Hey," I said, taking refuge in the warm car. A shiver ran down my spine, reminding me of the brutal December weather. 

"It's cold out there, ah?"

"Freezing." I stuttered due to the cold and dropped my backpack in the back seat. "Drive. I don't want to be late."

We drove up to the school, and drove around to the sophomore parking lot. Michael parked just as the first bell rang. 

"I'm gonna head to class. See you at lunch."

"Bye, Bella." 

I shoved my hands into my pockets, and walked hurriedly to homeroom. 

In homeroom, we usually just talk or text the whole time. The class is called LMS: Life Management Skills. Well, I seem to be coping fine despite a jail-ridden dad, and alcoholic / drug addict mom. 

I walked through the door about a second before the bell rang, and sat down. I noticed that our usual teacher Mr. Marley wasn't there.

"Late," his substitute said, without looking up from her clipboard. She was old, with grey dreadlocks that went down to her very wide hips. Her skin was a warm coffee color, that once was probably very beautiful, but time had not been sparing. 

"I'm on time. I got here right before the bell rang."

"No, not you. Him." She gestured with her pen to the dude who walked in after I did. He was one of those burnouts. One of those people with their ears stretched as far as they will go, decked in all black, and more jewelry than any parent (not including mine) should ever let their kid wear. Probably spent his time after school in the alley between the gym and the storage shed smoking something. I decided to bury my face in my note book.