Polaroids

Chapter 1

I wake up feeling like I got hit by a bus. It can't be time already. I check my phone; it's 6:10 am. Grumbling, I stand up and make my way to the bathroom. Brushing my teeth, I begin an angry monologue in my head.

"It's INHUMANE to subject kids to this time of treatment. What's the point of waking up this early and going to school to quote on quote 'learn' yet my brain is half asleep? My eyes may be open, but I'm not fully awake yet, but appearance seems to be the only thing that matters to the administration. As long as you look awake, that's good enough for us!' Bleedin' ridiculous.

"Maybe I should pretend to be sick. Now that I think of it, I'm feeling a bit warm and my throat is scratchy," I cough in a vain attempt to confuse my body into thinking I'm sick. Can you trick your body into being sick? I'm sure with the right mindset. "Feel sick, feel sick, itchy throat, sore head" I chant like a mantra. Nothing. "Okay, maybe not," I say to myself whilst rinsing my toothbrush out. "Never mind that," I say abandoning the plan.

I clean the mirror for any spray I caused when brushing, my mom hates it when I get toothpaste on the mirror.

I yawn one last time and hop in the shower. Who am I kidding? I can't skip the first day. Also, there are so many fake sick days I can pull off; I should save them for better things than something as frequent as feeling tired in the morning. Smart Lana.

When I get out of the shower, I dry off and moisturise. I enjoy listening to music while getting ready, so I put on my Spotify playlist "skool morn" to lift up my mood a bit.

I open my closet and instantly grab my school clothes without a thought. I "forgot" to iron last night, but it's fine, I don't really care, I'll just be certain to do it tonight.

The best part of having a uniform is not having stress about what you're going to wear for school. I put on my skirt and jumper.

My school uniform isn't anything special; I'm sure 200+ other schools have a similar outfit. It's a deep red uniform, both top and bottom, striped dark green tie (the cursed tie), white shirt underneath and black shoes, it doesn't matter what type of shoes they are as long as they're black and schools appropriate so no heels. The girls can wear trousers or skirts.

If you're wearing a skirt, you "must wear tights or knee, knee-length socks," I say in my head, mimicking the screeching voice of my principal and putting emphasis on 'knee'. I swear she repeats that same bloody line 5x a week does that women even get bored? I would if I sounded like that. I don't know how she does it, but she manages to always slip in, no matter the topic or situation at hand, the fact we need to wear knee-high socks. It's amazing when you really think about it.

Every so often I wear socks slightly below the knee just out of pettiness. I'm bad bad bad to the bone. It's hard being a rebel.

While I don't think there's an explicit rule against boys wearing skirts, they tend not to so it's not really a discussion, more of unspoken rules I suppose. Our embroidered school crest at the top right side of the chest, is a lion; I have no idea why just is. I call him Tim.

Anyway, I spend an extra minute or two debating whether to wear tights or socks.

Pros of tights: They're sheer + warmth. Cons: They rip easily, may have holes.

Pros of socks: They don't rip easily + I can decide on the length. Cons: N/A

Socks it is then. I put my hair in a high ponytail and I'm barefaced. I had nothing but lip balm on. I thought about wearing dark eye makeup to really highlight how dead I feel inside at this moment but chose against it. The rulebooks say minimum to no makeup, but the school doesn't really enforce it, still, no one ever glams it anyways.

I decide to wear earrings; I can try to look like a girl, just a little bit, don't want these boys to go too crazy now, Lana. We want to dazzle with a pinch of dazzle, that'll do 'em.

I arrange my books to suit my timetable for the day, which each book I pick up I can feel my happiness and soul literally chip away. "School yay!" I say to myself with as much irony and enthusiasm I can muster.

Why God, didn't you birth me as some rich white socialite in 1920s America?

"Why wasn't I born Daisy from The Great Gatsby?" I think to myself, imagining the grand adventures of lying by the poolside on a hot summer's day, I'd have.

Imagine being one of those girls that the guy goes crazy for and jumps through all these hoops just to be near you. He gets heart palpitations just thinking about actually being with you. The girl with the epic love story that no one completely believes. "You must be over exaggerating, impossible, no two people can be that extraordinary." I twirl around in my bedroom, "I want to be in a grand fairytale, one Jane Austen would write!" I yell exasperated.

I jump back into my bed, lying on my back I look up at my ceiling. Why is it the ceiling looks so small like it'd barely fit your bed never mind your wardrobe and all other furniture and you in it? But of course, it can because that's how much space you have and everything still fits. Weird.

I check my phone for the time snapping out of my feels. It must have been the music playing; it's 7:00 am. I have about twenty minutes until I'm r e q u i r e d to leave for the bus. Even still, I don't take breakfast; I never do on school days just a habit I got into.

Waiting for the school bus is consistently the most peaceful part of my school mornings. The bus stop is just down my street, so I never have to walk far. I walk down to the stop from my house, remembering to put in my earphones before I board the bus to try to decrease the chance of getting disturbed by a hyperactive classmate. It's half seven, why are you so giddy? Or harassed by a dumb jock as a dare.

The bus stop area is always filled with eight or so other kids from my school, one of them, Jimmy greets me with a nod, I nod back, but instantly snatch my phone out from my pocket and scroll through my playlist for songs, showing I'm listening to music, please do not make further contact. He gets the message; he flashes a smile and then goes back to queue for the bus.

Jimmy is a tall person. He towers over you with his beach blonde hair and deep turquoise eyes at 6"6 in height. He's not intimidating tall, but awkward tall. You catch sight of him when he walks in a crowd, he sticks out, the fact that he's reasonably skinny also causes him appear taller than he actually is. He never stands upright; he's always sort of bending even when there's nothing to crouch under. He looks like a trademark geek archetype from a stereotypical 80s high school without the glasses. Jimmy's geekiness is accentuated by our preppy school uniforms.
Being so tall he has to get the biggest size our school has to offer, but like I mentioned he's still scrawny, it's a battle between well fitted or full coverage clothes, he clearly opted for the latter. The tragic part is, even with getting the biggest size, his trousers still jump slightly. They jump at the ankles.

Jimmy's personality probably shines the brightest during these school mornings, you think about how fake and judgmental all these kids can be.

Is my skirt too high? I must be a try hard; I'm trying to impress someone. Is it a boy? Or do I merely want to be popular? What an attention seeking brat. Is my skirt too low? I must be boring and a nark. "She must get good grades", "what a teacher's pet", "nerd." I laugh to myself; I didn't realise something as minuscule as my skirt length could reveal to you my entire life story.

You think about all that fake and pettiness while making your way to school and then you spot Jimmy and his sun-bleached hair and beaming smile, and you think, "Finally, thank Lord, someone genuine."

Jimmy is one the funniest and nicest person I've ever met, I don't get all his Hobbit references (he's extremely fixated.) but I know he'll appreciate me laughing anyway.

I only waited about six minutes until the bus arrived. "All aboard the death train," someone from behind me announces, I nod in agreement.

It was Bryson Crusoe, trademark jock. He can be okay on his own most of the jocks are, but together they make this horrid, Frankenstein like breed of arrogance and disrespect. They seem to be in competition battling out who can be the biggest ass between them. They're loud and attention seeking, so naturally, they're universally loved within our school.

I don't know much about Bryson except for the fact he falls into that group.

I enter the bus greeted by the usual cheers given by the group at the back of the bus, on the first of school after any sort of holiday or break. Not for me of course.

Noticing the scowl on a "friend's" face, Kayla, who was sitting at the front of the bus. I'll say for the sake of my patience, coincidentally moved her oversized purple book bag onto the seat next to her as soon as I walked into the bus. I swiftly made my way near the back of the bus. Here I found myself an empty and kindly drama free seat, if only it was a bit quieter, still, I'd chose the jocks over that mess any day no matter how annoying they can be.

Five minutes after I sat down and drifted off into space, as I typically do on the bus on school mornings, I felt a shock in my neck and snapped out of daydream land.

"Huh?" I turn the other way to see one partially shocked face with a rubber band in his hand and six other faces trying not to laugh, it doesn't take Einstein to figure out what happened.

"I'm so sorry," one says in between giggles. Childlike.

Omitting them, I look for the ball or paper or whatever they shot at me. I look at the floor, nada. I then search where I'm sitting and around me, and I feel a small paper ball in my seat, bingo. I pick up the paper ball and hurl it back at them, I catch myself from throwing it too hard, they'd love to catch sight of me pissed off.

Feeling my body temperature slowly rise, I say, raising my voice slightly, "If you haven't noticed, I'm not a target, there isn't an X drawn on my neck or anywhere else on my body, so please, keep your balls to yourself."

They don't say anything until one of them pipes up, "Lighten up Carla it was an accident, "They murmur in agreement.

Did this bitch just call me Carla? "I'm sorry, but who are you?" I ask in a mix of confusion and anger, I'm not in the mood for jokes right now.

"Jackson, who the fuck are you?" He asks back mockingly, in a stereotypical New York accent. Another one makes a "badum ptsss" drum noise with his mouth. They subsequently give each other a high five.

I fight back the urge to laugh at the ridiculousness of it.

"Aye, if it hurts so much come back here, sit on my lap and let me kiss it better," one says, by now they're roaring with laughter. They begin making sexual gestures with their hands and mouth at my expense.

I feel my entire body starting to vibrate and getting hotter by the second, the vein in my head thumping and my heart goes into hyper-acceleration.

I've had enough of them and their disrespectful bullshit, every time I see them they're doing or suggesting something rude. They think they own the place as if they sit on a golden throne and the rest of us are their servants and the peasants. This is their movie, and the rest of the student body is just playing the extra. They're the stars and we're just the steps you take to attain them.

Like my teacher would say, I'm appalled. I've had enough of it.

"Where do you get off?" I stand up and ask nearly yelling. "Where exactly do you get off talking to someone like that? You talk to your mother with that mouth?" I say to him. I can see the surprise on their faces as their friend begins to shrivel in his seat, as I scream in his face. His face is turning rosy, and I can't tell from embarrassment or anger.

I'm drawing attention to myself, from the corner of my eye I see people turn around to look. I wouldn't be shocked if someone was recording it everything is on display in this bloody school, but for once I don't care you want to be funny? Let them look and stare and laugh.

"Keep it down, down there! You're distracting the driver," the bus driver booms disgruntled from over the intercom.

Rolling my eye, I lash back into my seat with my heart literally about to explode from the rate it was beating and my face hot with fury. I grab a bottle of water to drink and to help me cool down. I put in my earphones and then immediately take them back out again.

"You know all you had to do was give a respectful apology, I didn't even care about the dump piece of paper, what made me mad was how much of an ass you were all being," I say trying to cool down as I turn towards them again. "It wasn't the action it was the reaction that annoyed me, just try to be nicer to people? Yeah?" I continue, trying not to be condescending or arrogant."We all attend school together, let's at least try to get along with each other."

"Yeah, okay, chill," the same boy mumbles, not even making eye contact with me, too scared or angry to look me in the eye he looks at his shoes and out the bus windows.

By now the anger in me faded as quick as it came but still, I stare in disbelief, disgusting and annoyance. Really, dude, that's the best you can give me? Where did all the confident go, just evaporated into the air huh? What happened to the boy with the voice and all the jokes, now you're barely in a whisper.

It really was a funny picture, one boy in at the corner mortified while all his friends were trying their hardest not to burst out laughing, and a girl turned towards them and staring with utter confusion and shock.

Figuring that was the closest to an apology I would get I shuffle back into my seat. Some people just can't say sorry. I would have put my music back in, but the bus had just arrived at school, it was time to get off.

I felt an odd sense of anxiety that morning on bus 219 as I was getting off, senseless butterflies fluttering in my stomach of anticipation and it was burning.