"Sorry hun, saves me from doing a u turn or having to reverse given the steady flow behind me." My mum apologises, twitching her neck at strange angles to survey the dodgy street signs, some of which are buried under colourful layers of dissimilar stickers.
The bushland thins on Williamson Street, the vegetation a healthy, vibrant green. We pass a Caravan Park further down the lane, batches of families and couples stationed at a billowing barbecue or playing soccer on the lawn trying their best to avoid the road.
Neighbouring houses become sparse as we progress, all substantial country structure, one level, a possible garage or random boat in the front yard. A refreshing reminder of how others lead their lives.
"The school should be at the end of this street, right?" She asks distractedly, "Yeah, that's what Tash said." Her mouth twitches, she doesn't understand the need for Enrapture students to address their instructors on a first name basis.
The houses are disrupted by a lavish entrance lined by crisp white concrete walls approximately knee height. "Wowza, this is shnazzy." Mum speaks my mind.
The modern architecture is impressive, automated glass sliding doors open to welcome each student and teacher. A pristine circular hedge stands on a roundabout before the entrance doors, vehicles follow the road curves in orderly fashion directed by traffic controllers.
"Do royals come here or something?" They just might, I think to myself. Their dress code is considerably lax as piercing infested teenagers walk past us, multicoloured hair types also alongside jewelry and painted nails. For a catholic school this is uncharacteristic.
If we reached this place within an hour I'd seriously push for a transference to Elmrose. The driver seat window descends exposing us to the stuffy outdoor atmosphere.
Da da dun. "Jeremiah was a bullfrog—"
Da da dun. "—and was a good friend of mine."
Da da dun. "I never understood a single word he said, but I helped him drink his-a wine."
My utter perplexion is reflected in mums scrunched facial expression. "Is that, Joy To The World?" I ask, just as...
"Joy to the world, all the boys and girls now—"
Well that answers that. "I think that's their bell." I state growing more confused. Assortments of girls in white blouses and navy skorts accompanied by boys in similar shirts but grey trousers —or quad length shorts— flood the kerb briskly charging inside. "Looks like it."
A minute later and I never would've guessed the school was populated, let alone the amount of students that clustered the entrance not long ago.
Bzzt. Bzzt.
Jayden messaged me, "They just got off the train, apparently Jay's with Lucinda and Guinevere." A parking lot rests diagonally across from the pick up and drop off before what appears to be a farm? Not sure if this is cool or not.
YOU ARE READING
Chapstick Boi
Teen FictionMeet Spooky or more commonly known as, 'the over involved Lesbian', 'Spooky scary skeletons' and 'JJ'. Doesn't matter what you call her, she's still gay. You've heard all those stories surrounding closeted gays who suffer in silence, hiding their se...
