The Secret Egg

There I sat, on the cold, hard cement bench, once again waiting for the noisy bus to come pick me up. My posture was drooped, my hair, a total rats nest from waking up too late, and my teeth smelt like my brother's crappy banana tick tacks he got from the gas station by Wendy's. I didn't have time to brush them either. Those were my best option. I was still wearing my squeaky duck slippers. I didn't even have time to change my shoes I woke up so late. I brought my hands up to my face and rubbed my forehead stressfully. There was something squishy and sticky on my forehead. I felt my stomach drop. That's when I noticed I still had strawberry cream cheese all over from the breakfast rush. It had looked like I had gotten a nasty rash and had to put some weird pink cream on to make it not itch. Right then I started to have little stories in my head of what the kids were going to call me and what they were going to do to me. Like I needed to be humiliated anymore than I already was. I thought right then, how could it get any worse than this and that's when I looked down at my chest and there was a humongous grape juice stain my little sister Zoe had squirted on me on my dad's giant shirt that I was STILL wearing with no pants on. And right smack in the middle of the humongous T-shirt it said one of my dad's awful fart jokes. I couldn't believe I had to go to school like this. Right then and there I knew this was going to be the worst day ever.