"Good Morning Elaine," Aunt Erin shook my shoulder. Sun beamed through my window and created a calming warmth. I grumbled and hazily opened my eyes. The block red letters on my alarm clock read a time that I did not want to see. It was eight. I was late for school. Well fuck. The perfect beginning to another perfect week.
I scattered my sheets and practically flew at unreachable speeds across my room. In the process, I shooed my aunt out of my room. Why didn' t she wake me up earlier. I threw things left and right, trying to find some comfortable clothing. All I had clean were jeans and Harry's t-shirt. That would have to work despite the fact that it was supposed to be cold and rainy all day. The one day we have bad weather here is the same day I have no warm clothes clean. Great timing, right?
Within ten minutes, I was sloppily dressed and groomed. I made sure I had the time for the essentials and only the essentials. For example, hair and teeth brushed, deodorant, and a breakfast bar for my morning meal. I hadn't even tied my shoes until I pulled into the school parking lot which, by the way, was clear of students. That means even the potheads were already in class. This really proved I was late.
School protocol for tardiness was to wait in the office and get some slip that I needed to be signed by my teachers. I only knew that from the various occasions Louis had waltzed into my PE class thinking it was his. I had gathered this happened often because the coach, who only worked with girls, knew his name.
The same desk lady from the first day sat in her chair with her glasses down to the tip of her nose. She was typing away on a typewriter. Why she didn't have a computer? I'm not sure. Our school wasn't very advanced in the technological aspect of things. Either that or we can't afford one. Her age-old gray eyes met mine. She instantly recognized me and wrote my name down on a tiny yellow slip.
"We didn't get you in for attendance this morning dear. Why were you late?" Although she must be aggravated with me, her tone was still sweet.
"I'm so sorry miss. I was asleep and I've had a long weekend and-"
"Don't talk so fast," she interrupted, "You seem like a good kid so I will let it go this time. Next time, set your alarm please."
"Yes, of course, thank you so much," I rambled snatching the slip from her frail fingers. I pushed the glass door from the office open and jogged down the hall to my locker. After struggling with my code, once again, I tugged the door open and gathered my supplies for all of my morning classes. Books in tow and hair in my face, I speed walked to Dr.Ashley's classroom.
He was in the middle of yet another lecture when I barged into the room. My entrance was rather unexpected and loud. The whole room looked up from their daze and caught a look of me juggling my supplies. My face flushed with embarrassment. Timidly, I handed the slip to Dr.Ashley and found my way to the desk. Oddly enough, Harry must be late too. His seat was completely untouched. I know he wasn't skipping; he promised me he wouldn't do that anymore. He's not one to break promises easily either. Not unless you have proved yourself unworthy of his trust.
Class felt empty without Harry there. Something was missing. It was cloudy and way more boring than normal. I missed his cheeky little gestures such as pinching my thigh or throwing a pencil in my direction. He hadn't done them in the past week, but not having him here really reminded me of that. I actually had to focus on class this time. Not that I didn't normally do that although, if you asked me what we learned in here, I couldn't give you a definite answer.
Today, though, it seemed like our class discussion was on the significance of detail. Surprisingly, Dr.Ashley made some decent points. If we don't pay attention to detail, the intended audience of our writing will be disinterested. When our whole point is to paint a picture with words, specific elements truly create that art in our reader's heads. Something as simple as a side character or conversation could change the whole mood of the book or piece of writing.
YOU ARE READING
1985 (h.s.)
Fanfiction[COMPLETED] After getting over his initial facade I felt as if I was getting to know the real Harry Styles. I learned the little things about him like how he likes his bread toasted golden brown or that he always has to eat his salads with a certain...
