The Friendship Contract

Two.

The second day of school didn't have much difference from the first. Once I did the same ancient routine I did for my whole high school experience, my gut knew that once again, it was another normal, boring day. 

"Is the food good honey?" Mom asks. I was eating eggs and bacon. As I took a bite out of the oily strip of pan seared meat,  I nod my head, smiling at her. "Well, hurry up okay? We don't want you to be late." A smile smeared slowly from her face. 

"Okay." I answer simply, and soon enough I was done. I stood up in my ironed white shirt and size 27 jeans. 

I went to the living room, picking up my bag from the tiled floor, taking another glimpse of the quaint living room I spent most of my life in. This room hasn't changed at all. There were the linen sheets, and red carpet that spread across the room, colored like the inside of a red velvet cake.  

"Have a great day at school!" My parents said in unison. Though none of them were looking at me in the eye. 

"Okay, mom, dad. Bye." I said while stepping out of out door, closing it and taking a breath of cold, morning air. The mornings were almost never sunny in this neighborhood. It was a little up North so I guess that was expected. The town was pretty bland too. Buildings using monotone colors, cars were either white, black, or gray. Honestly, if you were colorblind, and you lived here, that wouldn't even matter. 

Soon the only colorful thing in the scenery came-- the school bus.Mustard Yellow, with pitch Black stripes surrounding it. It wasn't quite crowded, I could see through the windows that almost nobody was there. The even colder air from inside it escaped, as the glass doors opened. I stepped in, sitting in the middle in a singular seat. None of my so called friends were there, but, again, that wasn't so surprising. 

The noises coming from the chatters and quarrels from both the front and back was nonsense to my ears. It almost seemed that they were all speaking a language I didn't understand. I wouldn't want to know, though. It was none of my business anyway. 

The bus driver tried to quiet them down, suggesting they do their unfinished homework or something. As expected of the conventional label for adolescents-- the teen rebels didn't listen.

And I say conventional, because once again,

It was routine.

"Alright you little mumpsimuses, get out."

The bus driver was always aggravated at anything and everything. I didn't understand how that worked, and it didn't work out good for him. His soft, gentle looks were really deceiving, and it must've startled the newbies. 

Everyone was getting out, and once I got out, I stared at the five-story building that loomed the area. Nobody was astounded by the height of the building, and neither was I. It was expected, I guess. 

By the way, mumpsimus, or mumpsimuses is a word used to describe people who are stubborn, and don't listen to others' tell-offs, even if what they were doing was highly unnacceptable. It was strange, how I knew what that meant. Maybe English class taught me something after all.

Like how most of my day starts, there were people scattered all throughout the long hallways, and I approach my locker. Green, Bottom row. Just like all the others. One thing that differentiated my locker from all the others, is that I didn't keep photos and fancy decorative things stuck to the door of it. I didn't get the point of it. It wasn't that much of an important space in our little lives, so why put that much effort in something that'll fade away eventually?

Oh, right, time is ticking. I'll be late if I don't grab my books now. 

First period was Biology, and as I got my books and notebooks that I needed, I close the locker door, putting the lock in.