Through The Dark

First Day of Sophomore Year

"Sage, you need to go to school."
My mom spoke with such a sweet voice. It was thick with a southern drawl, like honey. I remember when I was very little and she took me to the park in the South side of town. It had a brand new merry-go-round, unlike our neighborhood park. It was shiny and red. She took me there and was spinning me round and round again until I was laughing so hard my sides hurt. I tried to get off without her help, and I fell on my wrist. I started crying. But instead of yelling at me for not listening to her, she scooped me up into her arms and cradled my fragile body, telling me I'd be okay with that sweet, honey-like voice.
"Yeah mom. I'm up."
She opened up my door and waded her way through my clothes piles. I couldn't decide what to wear. I'm you're stereotypical teenage girl: blonde hair and blue eyes. Skinny cheerleader. Popular. Chuck Taylor's and a varsity cheer squad hoodie. The 'normal' preppy girl.
"Darlin', it's just the first day of school, not a beauty pageant. What's the matter with this shirt?" She asked as she held up a red, white, and black North Side High Cheer Squad pull over.
"I don't know, mom. I just want to look.. like.. New? I don't know. I just want to stand out, mom."
She nodded, held up her finger, and left my room. I slunk down onto my bed and waited. I couldn't help but think about my reputation I have to keep. I can't relive last year. I can't be the girl who got trays dumped on her head in the bathroom stalls. I can't be the girl who volunteers in the library. I can't be the girl who...
My thought ran short as my mother entered my room with a wrapped gift box about the size of a puppy kennel.
"I know your birthday isn't until the 27th, but since you can't seem to find anything to wear-" she motioned around the room, "you might enjoy it early." She said as she handed me the box. She walked out and said breakfast would be done in a half hour.
I opened the box slowly, carefully tearing the camouflage paper with pink ribbons. How cliché my mother is. I opened the top lid, and there sat a new pair of black hightop Converse. Underneath was short cut overalls and a beautiful red top. Along with it was a new purse, too. Perfect for the first day of school, except it wouldn't hide what I needed it to. I slipped out of my nightgown and dressed myself in my pullover with a black skirt and hightops. I braided my hair into French braids at my mirror, and applied some makeup. I realized I'm 10 minutes late, and I need to go to the bus stop. I grab my bag and rush downstairs.
"Thanks mom. For the present. But I gotta go."
"Sage, you're not even wearing your clothes." She was shaking her head, but I blew her a kiss and ran down the gravel road driveway to the corner.
Up the road rumbled the big, yellow dust cloud we call Trusty Bus 3. I'm not exactly sure why, because every winter, our bus breaks down in the frigid Midwest weather. It stopped in front of my, heaving gravel and dirt toward the driveway. I walked up the stairs, and greeted our bus driver, Bobby Jo. He smiled and told me to take my seat. I hurried to the back of the bus, where my best friends, Ansel and Rayne sat.

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