A Work in Progress

One

"Anna, what do you want to be when you grow up?" My second grade teacher, Mrs. Vann, asks me. Today is career day, but I didn't wear a costume because I didn't know what to wear for my career.

"I wanna write books!" I tell her cheerfully. "I'm gonna make really good books! And everyone's gonna read all of them, and love them, and I'll be super-famous!"

I laugh at the memory, remembering how overactive my imagination was back then. I pull on a pair of skinny jeans and look at the blue and pink alarm clock on my bedside table. It reads 6:22. I have eight minutes until my bus gets here. Sighing, I finish dressing and look at myself in the full-sized mirror on the baby blue painted wall opposite my bed as my gaze travels up my body. From my black and blue Chuck Taylors, to my faded skinny jeans, to my white floral shirt adorned with red roses.

My eyes finally meet my reflected face, and I gasp. There are dark purple bruises on my face that weren't there when I went to bed last night. I don't know how these got here. I look at my arms, which were clear and flawless just a few minutes ago, and notice newly-formed light purple marks peppering them now. I look at the clock. 6:26. I panickedly grab the foundation from my makeup bag and cake my face in it, hoping to conceal the mysterious blemishes. It doesn't work, no matter what amount I put on my face, the vivid bruises shine right through the makeup.

I nearly miss it, but I hear the rumble of the bus loudly approaching my house. I swiftly throw on my grey jacket and blue bookbag, shoving my writing notebook inside. I rush out of my room, down the stairs, and through the house. The bus is just stopping as I barge out the front door and rush across the driveway, climbing on the bus and settling into seat 16, next to my black-haired best friend Chloe.

"Hey, Anna." She says as she glances at me, but does a comical double take. "Oh my god, what happened?" She gently brushes one of the marks, to the immediate right of my nose.

"I don't know. I tried to cover them up bu...but..." I begin to feel lightheaded and I can't see straight. What the hell is going on? I bring a hand up to my forehead, which feels very hot. My palm comes back down from my face cold, damp, and covered in smeared makeup.

"Anna!" I barely hear Chloe as I struggle to stay awake, my vision blurring and my eyelids forcing themselves closed. "...you okay?" I only hear a fraction of Chloe's sentence before I lose power of my body and fall unconscious, in a heap on my friend.