Chapter 3
Mama Drama
Leaning forward, I willed myself towards the ominous, glowing light. It was flashed back at me, taunting every little retina I had in the back of my eyes.
The desperation I felt was overwhelmingly tremendous. I must make it, I need too, I thought to myself. Every nerve in my body was awake, feeling the adrenaline as the wind zipped past me, whipping my hair around wildly.
Everything was a blur, whizzing by, failing to catch my attention. I couldn’t hear anything but the harsh air that flapped past my ears. My heart was racing, yet the thuds were nothing but a continuous count towards my goal.
The arrogant light was laughing at me, purposely jousting at my obvious attempts to reach it. Then it happened.
Red.
"Damn it!" I stomped on the brakes of my old civic.
Of course.
My head threw itself forward, slamming into my car's steering wheel. My brain started thumping around, while the dull pain of a headache was starting to form.
"Owww!”, I groaned.
One of these days I'll get goddamn speeding ticket but by then I'd be unconcious. So either way it doesn't even matter. I really hope I have insurance on this thing or else I'm screwed.
I lifted one of my hands off the brown leather steering wheel and gingerly inspected my body. As I felt around for any suspicious lumps, the sound of Taylor Swift on a wild rampage filled my surroundings.
Oh how I hated her with a burning passion. Singing about her three-second love life with some new boy toy, excusing herself as a victim of young love. I mean come on guys. I blame everyone for creating the monster that is Taylor Swift. Even the guys she dates. They should all see their songs coming, I swear she probably pre-writes her songs before she dates them.
So who the heck is blaring her songs at ear splitting levels?
Turning my head to the left, the sight of four giggling Regina George wannabees answered my question. I snickered. A light blue mini-cooper? Seriously? Wow, a car color worse than pink.
"Oh my god! Gigi! Ron-Ron just, like, sent me a text! Right now!", The driver squealed in excitement.
"Like, the Ron-ron? As in, him! Girl! You’re so lucky!" One of the other girls, a red head practically screamed. They all continued with ceremonious arm slaps and mini seat bounces. You'd think they installed a trampoline on those seats.
The sound of a text message came from the ecstatic driver’s cell phone.
"Oh my goodness! He said he's free tonight! And that he wants to study for Chem!"
This time a bored looking blond spoke up.
"You should probably ask him if he even has Chem."
Shaking my head, I felt sorry for this 'Ron-ron'. I just pray he doesn't get one of these girls pregnant, because that child will be thrust into a world of embarrassment.
Their squealing abruptly came to an end, and my headache was now twice as painful. Thank god they finally shut up. My head is aching so badly and I just want to go home. For what seemed like the longest red light in the history of California, I turned to my left once more.
The 'Ron-ron' stalkers were pointing to my hair while whispering and silently giggling to each other. I secretly took a glance at the mirror and realized that my hair willingly formed into a beast nest.
