A fate left to losers

    I walked down the broken and damp stairs limping slowly into the cold dark kitchen holding my breath as I walked past my dad. My dad was lying on the couch drunk, for the fifth time this week. His eyes rolled over to look at me staring lazly at the wall behind me. I walked over to the fridge and pulled out an expired carton of milk and an egg that looked like it had been sitting in the fridge for years. Scrambled eggs for breakfast, again. I turned the black knob on the stove attempting to turn it on. The machine rumbled and tried to produce heat but surely enough it sputtered, coughed, and gave up. I let out a huff of air and grabbed a cup from the cupboard. I cracked the egg into the cup and watched the goopy yellow liquid pool inside the glass. I poured the chunky milk into the cup with the egg and walked to our table which was the only thing in our house that hadn’t fallen apart after mom left. Sitting down was agonizing, the cracking of the chair made enough noise to wake a dead whale. I sipped my cancauction nearly throwing up at the texture of the slimy egg progressing down my throat and the chunks of milk scraping my tongue.

“Yum...” I remarked sarcastically in disgust, letting my voice trail off slowly.

I got up from the table and grabbed my stupid pink backpack that laid next to the door and limped slowly outside. The bus whipped around the dead leaves on the road smashing a few but avoiding most. My mom would love this. She loves fall. I cant believe shes missing this. The bus wobbled to a stop and I climbed up the bus stairs. They creaked from my weight and I swore that those stair were going to break. Walking into the sweaty smelling bus almost made me lose my breakfast. When I sat down, the bus driver let the creaky bus doors close. Where I was sitting I could see everyone in the bus from the rear view mirror the bus driver used to see behind him.

“How’s you dad doing Noah?” The bus driver asked hesitantly steering the wheel right making the bus shake and shiver.

“He's fine,” I remarked roughly. If only the bus driver, Mr. Sam, knew how much pain my dad puts me through every day and how much suffering my mom being hospitalized has caused me. If only I could tell people without being tormented. A small tear tried to crawl out of my eye but I gently pushed it aside.

“You alright there buddy?” Mr. Sam focused his gaze on the mirror adjusting it to look at me. I only nodded in response in fear of revealing how I felt. I pulled my hoodie strings forcing my hood to srangle my face and cover my eyes.

“Alright...” Mr. Sam sighed and focused back on the road. The rest of the trip to school I sat in silence all though nothing about the bus was quiet. It was all loud. The kids. The phones. The screaming.

The bus screeched to a stop, rattling everyone and making them go quiet. The bus driver's loud voice filled the bus, leaking out of the speakers crackling as the noise hit my ears. The kid sitting next to me got up slowly causing everyone around them to start dashing into the bus isle scrambling to get to the door. I got up hesitantly and waited for the isle to clear out. I started to feel sick as I was walking off of the bus. I didn't know if I was feeling sick because of my raw and spoiled breakfast or the thought of having to survive another day of kids laughing at me.

I waved Mr. Sam goodbye and wobbled into the run down building I called my school. My shoes squeaked as I walked across the tile floor to my locker. Grabbing most of my text books, I wandered to my first period class slowly getting a sinking feeling about today.

School passed sloth-like making me regret coming. I walked to my last period class tripping on my own feet mumbling silent cusses under my breath. My science class smelled like someone had ripped open a racoon and ate it. I slowly slipped into my class and sat at my desk quietly. I put my head down and listened to the tapping of other people's computer keys, slouching in my chair. My teacher Mrs. Maxwell walked nervously up to my desk. I knew something was up. She never hesitated to tell me things.