Coming Home

Twenty-Six

I woke up earlier than I had to, rushing to get dressed and out the door before my father could notice me. It was typical for me to be up and moving before he was back then, but I couldn't take the chance of risking it-- with my luck, the one time I decided to sleep for an extra few minutes, he'd magically be an early riser. My stomach growled loudly, and I suddenly wished I had taken the opportunity to grab something for breakfast. Not having any other choice, I decided I'd survive until lunchtime; I didn't have the time or money to splurge on food, anyway. The walk to school was long, and the gray sky threatened to downpour on me; I hoped I could make it all the way inside the building before the sky finally decided to open up and let it all out.

That was me, a wishful thinker.

Can you read my sarcasm here?

As I walked, I mentally went over my plan to finish school and get the hell out of town, reminding myself for what was probably the thousandth time that there were only a few more months until my great escape. I wondered if I could pick up some more hours at the diner, knowing that having as much money saved as possible would be incredibly beneficial for my departure; the farther I could get away, the better.

While I was lost in thought, I hardly noticed the first few raindrops that fell on my skin, my mind far too occupied with ideas of what I would do when I finally had the chance to leave town. The wind picked up drastically, and I hugged my jacket tighter, trying to stay as warm as I could in the crappy weather. Several more drops plopped against my hair and jacket before the sprinkling turned into a light drizzle, the overall dreariness of the weather practically matching my mood. I had supposed that being a little damp that morning wouldn't be the end of the world.

I regretted that thought immediately.

A loud crack of thunder sounded, causing me to jump. The wind increased further, blowing my long hair into my face and obstructing my vision. In my attempts to tame my wild strands, I accidentally stepped off the curb, painfully twisting my ankle in the process. Just as I had thought the day couldn't possibly get much worse, I was proven wrong--again. A car approached in a hurry, speeding down the wet road faster than the posted speed limit would allow. Quickly, I wiped the hair from my eyes just in time to see the passengers of the vehicle laughing hysterically as the driver swerved slightly to intentionally hit the puddle at the side of the road, sending a large spray of dirty street water directly at me before driving away.

Entirely soaked and with a throbbing ankle, I trudged the rest of the way to school, biting my lip to keep from crying out in frustration or pain. I only hoped that the clothes I had left in my gym locker were suitable enough to at least appear somewhat presentable. Not that I cared much about my appearance at that time; someone would find a way to make fun of me no matter what I looked like. I made it to the school with just minutes to spare, keeping my head down as I silently walked toward the locker room. It was a challenge to ignore the hardly quiet whispers and the unsuppressed laughs as I meandered through the crowd, but I constantly reminded myself to focus solely on my task.

Upon entering the locker room, a shower was the first thing on my list, the hot water literally pulling the chill from my bones; if I had to look like trash, at least I wouldn't be cold. After drying myself quickly, I pulled on the oversized sweats from my locker before throwing my hair into a long ponytail without bothering to brush it; I didn't have any more time to waste, as I was already late for my first class.

As fast as possible, I hobbled to first period on my still sore ankle, hoping that showing up for the last few minutes of class would be enough effort to keep the school from calling my dad. That would be the last thing I needed--another reason for my dad to be pissed at me.

Like he actually needed a reason at that time, it seemed that absolutely everything about me irritated him immensely.

The morning dragged on, and I was almost thankful that no one had bothered to speak directly to me--that was until someone purposefully tripped me. As I dropped to the floor, my probably sprained ankle throbbed more furiously, my knees crashing into the tiles hard enough to leave bruises. The crowd around me erupted into laughter, and I mentally cursed the tears that welled in my eyes; I didn't want them to see me cry. Hell, I didn't want to show these awful people that their disgusting actions had any effect on me at all.

Unfortunately, the day wasn't over yet.

I sat by myself in the lunchroom, as usual--no one wanted to be friends with me after the drama that went down with my parents. I was used to it, though. Honestly, I wouldn't want to be friends with those people, anyway.

I had just begun eating when a screechy voice could be heard behind me. "Eww, what's that smell? It smells like a wet dog!" Amanda cackled, her nose scrunching as if she had truly caught a whiff of something repulsive as she and her group of cronies walked past me. Her childish comment caused the several girls around her to burst into a terrifyingly loud fit of giggles. Just as they were about to finally disappear from my sight, I heard Amanda excitedly call out, "Levi!"

Glancing up from my half-eaten sandwich, my eyes caught onto Levi's perfect face just before Amanda fluttered up to his side, wrapping an arm around his waist and pressing herself into his body as if she somehow belonged there. Levi smiled at her as if he didn't mind her attentions and affections, and I couldn't stop the immediate reaction of rolling my eyes... Or the sudden and unexplained ache in my chest.

Tearing my eyes away from the stomach-curdling scene, I mentally repeated, "Just a few more months. A few more months, and then I'm out of here, and I'll never have to see any of these people again."

That mantra was the only thing that kept me going back then, the only reason I even survived the horrors of high school.