Weightless

A normal day

As I approach the bus stop, a girl rushes past me. The one I want to be friends with. Her gorgeous platinum blonde hair trails down her back to her waist, and her light blue eyes are almost icy, with deep black lashes. She's skinny, but still has a deeply mature figure. She's wearing denim shorts with a large gray sweatshirt, with the sleeves too long for her arms. It's adorable. To be honest...

I think

I want...

To be more...

Than just friends.

I admire her from the back of the bus as she jokes with her friends. When we pull up to the school, she stands up and I realize I have too, also. Gathering my items, I slowly step off the bus. I drop off my flute at the music room, and make my way to math.
My teacher is really nice, but just isn't...properly educated, in my opinion. She is the kindest, but constantly gets incorrect answers when solving an equation with us. Her teacher intern, Selena, who is training to be a teacher when she graduates from high school, is much smarter. She honestly teaches way more than misguided Ms. Ramirez. Teaching is definitely not her forte, but I think she would be a wonderful therapist, utilizing her people skills to make a change. My thoughts are interrupted when Selena gives me a worksheet. I'm done in 3 minutes. People are scrambling to finish. Amusing. I scan the room, almost like a barcode is scanned at a grocery store. One girl yawns. Her name is Melanie. She is the closest thing to a friend I have. We speak at lunch, walk together to class, and complain constantly. But instead of talking about like high school musical or something, we're preoccupied with studies. During lunch we learn about physics and science together. We want to get into good colleges, it's not like having a good reputation between kids will benefit my career. Before I know it, it's already lunchtime.
"Did you get the worksheet?" I ask Melanie as we sit down.
"Yeah, it's not in color though." I roll my eyes at her pathetic attempt at a joke. She gives me a copy of a college-level worksheet she found online, and we finish just in time for the end of lunch. Some absolute imbecilic garbage scum excuse for a human being threw an apple at my head. Obviously unintentionally, but duh, I'm still pissed. I chuck a piece of tiramisu from some random kid near me and tell him too fuck off. It bounces off his head as he screams at me, telling me what a cunt I am. Sipping my black coffee, I feel tired. Sluggishly dragging myself along to music, I yawn again in exhaustion.

Playing flute is hell.

The fingering, and having to be light-breathed while simultaneously not being capable of breathing is SOOO GREAT. I honestly just don't play and pretend I am. When the teacher points at me to hear me play. I can't play it. It's not that I'm incapable of fingering, it's just I'm too tired to blow air anywhere. I shake my head as she glares at me.
"Well." She muttered.

"Sorry, my asthma is flaring up again." Her eyes widen. I don't have asthma, but she doesn't need to know that. She lets me pack up then and there. Roaming the hallways, empty with the floods of students is always satisfying. The lights flicker the slightest bit as the loud, painful bell rings. I am almost at English, my last period before art, so I arrive earlier. I set down my things and get ready to resume testing from yesterday.

Before I know it

I'm asleep.

Some kid pokes me right before the teacher comes to intervene. I slap their hand away, and grab my thermos of coffee, taking a huge gulp. My teacher looks at me inquisitively, but decides not to interfere. My throat burns a little bit, and my eyes water from being closed so long and then being exposed to bright light. I'm honestly just a dazed mess as I head to art. Class goes as usual, but I see our teacher added a new needle mark to the collection. Right before class ends, however, she asks to see me after school. I know she can drive me home, and it's not like I'm actually gonna do something at home. I comply.

When the herd of kids has left, she beckons me to her. I walk over.
"Your names Elise, right?"
"I prefer to go by Elise Mae." I reply, honestly just exhausted.
"Mk. Well, 'Elise Mae' I see you have noticed my flu shot marks." She glances around the room.
"Are you serious?" I raise my eyebrows and almost laugh. She could've said mosquito bites. She could have said some strange form of rash. But 23 flu shots? My god. She rolls her eyes.
"Okay, whatever. It's usually just soft core though."
I smile, amused. Then everything changes when she says this.
"I know your anorexic. Honestly, you look gorgeous. Got any tips?"
My mouth drops. An Ana buddy. Finally! I almost hug her. That's when she delivers the best news out of all the hot pile of shit were brewing.
"I'm not as old as you think I am."
"Wait, seriously? Aren't you like, 23?"
"Nah. I just turned 18. Art teachers get such a small amount of pay to slave away with children all the time that no one wants to be one in this area. They just wanted my grades and teacher comments. I'm serious. This is college for me, basically. Drugs make me look older." She grins.
"What the fuck...wait, so your only 3 years older than me?"
"Yup."
I gawk at her, then let out a tiny smile. We exchange numbers, and so I have acquired a new friend. Her name is Carrie.

She's gorgeous.

((Pls comment on what you would like to improve on!! Feedback is a great help.))