The "+" Club

Welcome Home

It was almost the end of the school day, and I was extremely tired. I was tired from the moment I got to school, so I was used to the feeling at that point. That wasn't very surprising, though. I never get much sleep, at night.

I'd been getting less sleep than usual lately, because I was lying awake every night to think about my secret. I was worried about someone finding out. You see, I'd made the fatal mistake of writing it down in my journal. It was an even worse idea to take it to school. I knew that there was a possibility of losing it, but I was being a stubborn teenager. I didn't think it could actually happen in real life until it happened to me.

I could faintly hear my teacher calling my name, then I realized I had fallen asleep in class again for the eleventh time that week. My English teacher slammed his book on my desk to wake me up. I didn't want to get in trouble, so I pretended that I didn't fall asleep in the first place.

"Hey! Why did you do that?!" I asked in fake shock.

"Because you fell asleep in my class...again." He stated in his monotone voice.

"No, I didn't."

"You know what? Go to the principal's office."

"For falling asleep?!"

"No. For lying about it."

As I shuffled down the hallway, I muttered "Princi-pal? More like not-my-pal. That was funny. I should write that down."

I kept walking until I saw a flock of mean girls. One of them had the audacity to knock my glasses off my face and call me an emo dork for wearing hoodies all the time. I was sick of always having to hear the principal run her mouth, so I decided to sit in an abandoned classroom to draw.

I found what used to be an art room, but I was shocked when I smelled cookies. I opened the door to find a group of kids who seemed to be about my age. They were gathered in a circle...reading something. I heard one of them say "We need to find this kid." As I stepped closer, I realized they were reading my journal.

I wanted to stay hidden, but I couldn't help myself; I had to speak up. "Hey that's my journal!"

One of the older kids turned around and gave back my precious journal before he bagan to question me.

"What's your name? How old are you?"

"I-I'm fourteen and my name is S-samantha, but I go by 'Sam'." I screamed at myself on the inside for stuttering. I was never good at talking to people.

I waited a moment before they all spoke in unison.

"Welcome home, Sam."