The Struggle Is Real

chapter twenty six : mondays

chapter twenty six : mondays

I flipped around as the bus breezed past me. "What the heck?!" Ugh, why today? I slung my backpack over my shoulder and jumped into a run. I constantly passed my vision from the bus to the road, knowing I could slip at any moment. The back window of the bus was smeared with acne-covered faces smashed up against the glass and laughing as I tried to keep up.

I pushed myself to run harder, my plaid flannel shirt flapping open to reveal a pure white tank top. My black skinny jeans and black converse weren't helping with how cold I was. Michigan winters. Another ugh. I tried not to think about how cold I was and focused on sprinting to the bus again.

Still in the subdivision, it came to an abrupt stop, skidding on the ice. I sprinted faster, I had a chance! It went to move again, and I grabbed onto the back of the bus, my ice cold fingers locking onto a bar. I planted my feet firmly in front of me, leaned back, and bent down, preparing for impact. The bus took off with a squeal, with me still latched on.

No kids turned around to tell the bus driver that there was a freezing girl hanging on for dear life on the back, no. Why would we? They all stood, shocked. One kid cheered me on. We started to pick up speed. Now onto a main road. Holy crap. I let go, I basically die. Great way to start off a Monday morning, eh?

I saw a familiar road coming up and realized there was another stop coming up. Only one person though. I had to be quick, he was at the very end of the street, it would be one step, and he was on. I could not afford to miss it this time. The bus skidded to a stop on the ice covered street, sliding a little. I flew off the bus bar, using its stop to boost me. I sprinted as fast as I could, and flung open the door.

I stumbled up the steps and got a large glare from the bus driver. "Missy, next time, get on at your own stop." It took all that was in me to nod, and go to my seat. I flopped on the blue leather and threw my backpack into the seat. I put my head on it and curled up, my attempt to get warm. The noises of the bus faded away as I drifted into a calming sleep.

+++++++++++++++++++

I woke up to a hand pulling me up, off the seat. I mumbled something about going back to sleep, but trudged along, still not opening my eyes. They pulled me along the sidewalk, and then into the school. Before I knew it, I was in the bathroom. I could smell it. It wasn't a good smell, nor a bad smell. It was just.... an aroma.

I opened my eyes to see the mirror and saw the wreck in front of me. I gasped and reached for my backpack. "Already got it, sister." I flipped around to see Trent standing there, fully equipped with all my 'emergency makeup supplies.' He looked pretty silly. I giggled, in spite of myself.

He gave me a quick hug, and we started to get to work. He took my shirt & socks and put them under the hand dryer to warm them up. I gently put on some mascara and coverup, still trying to wake up. I picked up the brush and ripped it through my tangled hair. Bending over, I collected my long light brown hair and wrapped it all together into a messy bun. Not perfect, but messy.

Trent tapped on my shoulder and guided me into the shirt, buttoning it up in the front. I slipped on my shoes, still soaking wet. Trent smiled. "You look perfect, as always." I laughed at his gentleman like comment. "Thank god my stylist was here to help..." He overdramatically put his hand over his mouth, and gasped loudly. "Why, madam! What else am I here for?" Again, I laughed.

He held open the door, and we walked out. I slugged him in the shoulder. "You're such a dork, you know that?" He chuckled and slid his fingers into mine. His hands were warm, I still felt freezing. "I know." He said happily, and we walked down the halls, hand in hand.

a/n

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