Chapter Six

Remember when I told you about a school system that delayed their school hours to 8:30 so that if the students had more sleep they could focus better?

I really wish my school would do that.

I'm sure that I'm not the only kid who despises Monday morning. But how many of them curse into their pillows or nearly throw their alarm clocks (a.k.a. cell phones) on the floor?

I've seen links to websites and news articles that claim that scientists have found links to our emotions and our physical conditions. Somehow being more grateful for life or just being happy will increase your lifespan and prevent diseases. I don't doubt it, someone feel a lot better when your glad, rather than depressed I suppose.

That someone would not be me at the moment.

I close my eyes and find myself waking up fifteen minutes later, which isn't so bad. Not as bad as the time I woke up at 7:15, still in my pajamas.

I stretch, because that's supposed to wake you up more, and stand up, still a little wobbly. I follow the regular hygeine routine: take a shower, brush your teeth, thankfully I don't need to shave at the moment, apply lotion and body spray, put on some jeans a t-shirt, and a zip-up hoodie, with my converses, put on a pair of earrings, apply some lipgloss, fix my hair into a messy ponytail, make sure everything is in my bag and head downstairs for some breakfast.

By the time I'm ready to leave for school, I hear my twin brothers rush around the bedrooms. The quick pounding of their feet is followed by my mother yelling at them to slow down. My dad has already left for work. My mom will leave as soon as she drops off my brothers.

"Ma, I'm leaving," I yell as I'm about to open the front door.

"Got your keys and phone?" she asks. One time, in the seventh grade, I forgot to bring my house keys and I was stuck outside my house for three and a half hours. My mom will not let it go.

"Yup!" I still answer and walk out the door.

~*~

"I'm still pissed at you."

I'm at my locker right before homeroom, seeing which books I'll need for the first two or three periods. Mike Bentham is right next to me, waiting, since we also have the same homeroom.

Let's see, I have history first... "Oh yeah," I chuckle. "How did it go with Mr. Valero?"

"I had to explain to him that I was talking about some other teacher."

Then English... "That worked?"

"Yeah, but he asked who it was."

What do I have third period? "He's good."

"I'm better. I told him that it was at a different school that my cousins go to." He straigtens his posture, beaming proudly.

Damn, I forgot... "Really now?"

"Yup, in Arizona."

I think it was... "That's..."

"awesome, huh?" he cuts me off.

No, not gym, that's fourth. "I was going to say, 'random', but whatever you say."

He sticks his tongue out at me and I roll my eyes.

It was... "So, did you do the lab?"

"Shit! I forgot to print it out!" His beam is gone, and I'm almost certain that he just had an intense urge to kick my locker. I stare in shock for a little. That was more random than Arizona. However I maintain my cool.

"That sucks," I snort.

"Wait," he pauses, calming down a bit. "I think I have a copy of it on my email."

"Print it out during lunch or something."

"Yeah, ok." He nods, much calmer now. "I have Spanish first."

"Spanish!" I yell. That's it! I have Spanish third!

"What?" he askes, utterly confused.

"Nothing," I shake my head. Too much of a bother to explain. "I have history first, though."

"Not so bad, maybe you can take a nap."

"Like Sam?"

"Haha, yeah."

The bell suddenly rings and students now begin to slowly move into their homeroom classrooms.

Mike looks at me. "Should we go?"

I shut my locker door. "Yeah," I grab my bag and swing it over my shoulder and follow Mike into homeroom.

Information gathered: Mike brags about lying, loses lab, freaks out, calms down, and other useless chit-chat.
Information inferred: He may just be as (un)predictable as this school.