yellow

2

We pulled up outside the school gates with 3 minutes to spare.

"Thank you so much mum, I love you, see you later."

I heard her huff and mutter something under her breath as I slammed the car door shut, but I didn't have time to question her on what I'm sure was some snide remark about my apparent tardiness.

That argument would have to wait.

I, Victoria Bradway, was starting to get worried.

As I began my sprint through the school yard, I sent a million silent prayers to the Man upstairs.

My family wasn't overtly religious, I mean, my parents insisted that we said Grace every night before dinner and that we went to church on Easter and Christmas mornings, but that was pretty much the extent of our religious escapades.

Me? I wasn't really sure what I believed in. But at that moment in time, I needed all the help I could get.

Alex had to see me sitting in that hall as soon as those curtains opened or else I'd be spending the last week of term, and probably the first few weeks of break, on the receiving end of his infamous silent treatment.

His renowned - and now favourite - method of guilt tripping, kickstarted sometime during the sixth grade. Alex had turned up to school wearing a Pokémon t-shirt that his mom had given him for his birthday and naturally my arsehole of a brother had made fun of it.

After that, Alex didn't speak to him for three weeks.

Three weeks. Over a t-shirt. And I'm not even exaggerating. That kid was a born drama queen.

It had started to rain, so I decided to take a shortcut through the cafeteria, choosing to wind my way past the confusing clusters of tables and chairs rather than risk getting soaked.

Now almost at top speed, I accelerated even harder, and rounded a corner straight into a group of freshmen from the school band.

As much as I hated to admit it, being short definitely had its disadvantages. I was a measly five foot one, and this made navigating crowds extremely challenging.

As I elbowed my way through the group of pimply teens, I accidentally knocked shoulders with a red headed boy who was somehow shorter than me, and who I was sure should still have been in the fifth grade. The violin he had been holding crashed down with an embarrassing loud thunk.

"Hey, what the hell!?"

Any other day I would've stopped to grovel and apologise, but today was not that day.

Besides, the instrument was in its case. I'm sure it was perfectly fine. "Sorry!" I yelled over my shoulder, and without breaking stride, swerved past the rest of the group before bursting out of the cafeteria doors.

I looked around anxiously before finally spotting a pretty girl with olive brown skin and wild mahogany curls. She was pacing nervously in front of the school hall.

Marla looked almost as worried as I felt.

As I ran over to her, I briefly glanced down at my phone to check the time. 5:59pm.

"Thank you Jesus." I'd made it. My friendship with Mr Seawright would live to see another day.

"Oh my god finally!" Marla yelled once she spotted me. She quickly reached out to grab my hand, her expression a mixture of relief and fury.

"Let's go." She yanked me through another set of doors and into the packed rows of students, teachers, friends and family members, to the only spare seats left in the school's makeshift theatre.