9 Things to Make You Stay

Chapter 1 | Junior Year

              Pickin' up things we shouldn't read.
      It looks like the end of history as we know.
                   It's just the end of the world .
  -Nine in the Afternoon by Panic! At The Disco
                                                                                           *****

If I had it my way, time would've completely stopped before I even had the chance to reach this day. It would still be summer, and I'd still be wasting my time in somebody else's basement. Funny, how I want to freeze time only so that I can waste it. Or maybe that's only funny to me.

Bright sunlight spills through the windows and onto my bed. Reluctantly, I open my eyes. My entire bedroom is filled with light, and I raise a hand to protect my eyes from the persistent glare of the sun. The soft rustle of leaves resonates through the room, while red and orange shadows smear across the floor. Fresh autumn air floods into my lungs, instantly triggering my brain to remember something. The first day of my junior year in high school.

I curse to myself, before burying my head inside the pillow.

A lot of people genuinely look forward to the first day of school, but I'm not one of those people. It's not that I resent those kinds of people, but I've just never been one of them. Hell, my best friend is one of those guys. I can't speak for my fellow classmates, but nothing about challenging classes, piles of homework, and prolonged drama sounds good to me. There's also the issue of me getting into college, something that I've avoided thinking about. Until now.

Yep, this year is just going to be a blast.

I pull myself out of my bed and retrieve my phone from the bedside table. The screen lights up, displaying the time and received text from two minutes ago. I read it dolefully.

Get your lazy ass out of bed. Be there in half an hour.

I contemplate the idea of telling him exactly where he could shove his phone, but I restrain myself.

I glare at the phone for a long time, before tossing it on the bed. I turn away, but it buzzes again.

Stop pouting. I can see your frown from all the way over here.

I glance at my window just in time to see a blonde head ducking out of view from across the street. Jerk.

I walk towards the bathroom across the hall, making sure to step over the trail of broken wine bottles leading to the room down the hall. At this point, it's a familiar part of my morning routine.

Fifteen minutes later, I've taken a shower, brushed my teeth, and I've gotten dressed. I even try to comb down my jet black hair, but to no avail. The messy strands refuse to look presentable, and I give up trying to make it cooperate. My hazel eyes stare at my reflection hesitantly, knowing full well that I'm not mentally prepared for this.

I glance down at my ripped jeans, black sweatshirt, and beaten up sneakers. I figure these clothes represent how I feel today, so I don't even try to look bright and cheery.

It's the first day of school, not the red carpet.

Once I'm downstairs, I walk towards the kitchen to make myself some breakfast. I open the fridge and retrieve two snow-white eggs, a carton of orange juice, and a small chunk of butter. Most of the shelves are bare, due to my mom's indifference towards everything. The thought of spending my hard-earned money on groceries makes my stomach twist, but I guess I don't have a choice. I almost never do.

The eggs are quickly cracked and on the stove, and I put two slices of bread in the toaster. I scramble the eggs and butter the toast at the same time. When I have a moment's break, I take a swig of orange juice from the carton before resuming. I know it's disgusting, but I'm the only one who really drinks out of it anyway.