I don’t live very close to school. I truly do envy the girls that brag about living a minute away and complain about waking up at like 7:40 when class starts at 7:55. I know there are probably people that have worse commutes but I’m going to complain anyway.
The standard Apple alarm goes off, and for a moment, I can almost completely convince myself that I’m waking up too early and I’m dreaming. I’m unfortunately not that good of a liar, so I usually turn it off and roll over to go through my phone. I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to do that, but I’m going to do it anyway.
I walk to my sister’s room to try and find a fresh skirt since I forgot to lay one out and I find an empty room with the lights still on. She must have left early to get help for one of her 18 AP classes, but she’s always had a problem with turning the lights off ever since we were younger. Even in 2nd grade I used to walk around the house turning lights off before we left for school, and all of my sisters would yell at me for taking too long to get in the car, but I’d do it anyway.
I put on my shorts, my skirt. I put on my bra, my polo. I put on a sweatshirt (probably not one that adheres to the uniform) and mentally prepare for comments from my Spanish teacher about mi sudadera. Sock, sock, shoe, shoe. I haven’t re-tied the laces on my sneakers since I bought them, so they’re basically slip-ons. I walk to the bathroom and work through my hair that is still somewhat damp from the night before since I showered at 1:00 after studying for my APUSH test. My hair is too long these days, it’s easier if I just put it in a bun. Brush hair, brush teeth, hair in bun, it’s 2 minutes before I need to leave. I shouldn’t dawdle, but I do it anyway.
It’s too late for me to pack a lunch or water, but it’s just about the perfect amount of time for me to speed into the Starbucks parking lot and get my usual order plus a protein box. Trust me, it’s faster. I’m technically 10 minutes late, but I don’t fret. The roads take me where I need to go, though it feels like there’s always at least one road that’s under construction. I know the way well enough now, but rerouting when you’re already ten minutes behind is a little risky– I’ve gotta do it anyway.
I peel into the parking lot, but not before letting someone else turn into it before me. It feeds my ego. I park semi-perfectly, though if you ask my friend that parks her tiny car next to my minivan, she’ll cry about it and say I’ve trapped her to the point where she’s going to need a crowbar shatter her windshield and climb out like a citizen of Gotham escaping Paul Dano. After getting winded from walking at a slight incline and then stairs, I enter my first class. There’s almost always a pee break in period one since I drank a grande drink while mowing down bikers. I walk in and there are two best friends on their phones, giggling and complaining. I have to pee, but I’m too tired to care when they go completely silent as I pee to the point where it echoes (I don’t think that’s possible, but it does it anyway).
After a few seconds, they burst into hushed giggles about the fact that I am peeing and how awkward the situation is. I mean, yeah, it’s awkward, but only because they laughed at me peeing in a bathroom. Now I don’t want to get out of the stall. The longer I wait, the more they giggle, and now it’s just annoying. In order to spite them, I open the stall and wash my hands like they’re towel bearers in the bathroom at the Oscars and I’m Bella Hadid.They act like they weren’t just giggling and it’s a nice little tense game we play. I return to class and pass rolled up skirts and more off-uniform sweatshirts. They’re lovely little acts of civil disobedience that bind the student body together. To report a girl for violating the dress code is to violate the first rule of thievery: never tell on another thief. I wouldn’t do it anyway. Not when I’m never in uniform.
Walking outside feels so good, to have the sun on my face. Except I hate the sun once I’m in class and it won’t stop shining into the classroom and only hitting my leg. But the lights in the classroom feel acidic on my forehead, so I welcome the sunlight most of the time.
Second period comes and people have their vices open, their Wordle, 2048, sudoku, and Youtube videos. Some people are taking notes. There isn’t exactly a correlation between who turns to vices and who gets good grades: that mostly falls to the out of class stuff.
Second break is time for me to get a snack and a soda. The caffeine takes me through third period where I use the restroom again, though this time it’s empty. The trip itself is mostly a chance for me to take tiny steps and prepare my speech about the Constitution if someone points out that I was gone for a long time. Lunch.
I don’t like being outside because it’s either too hot or too cold, so I go to a teacher’s classroom. It’s usually the same two since one has candy and one lets us use his TV. I might get a grilled cheese since the women that work at the food place are really sweet to me and make fresh sandwiches for me if they’re out. That way, it’s all melty and not greasy when I get it. Sometimes, they give me fruit, too. I steal my sister’s water because I didn’t pack any.
Last period is here, and there is no force great enough to overcome my will. What does my will want? It refuses to learn a single thing after lunch is over. Nothing new can be absorbed since I’ve just eaten and my body doesn’t have room to digest new things.
I shuffle out of class after the bell frees me and I shuffle down to my car that I now have to drive because my sister decided to go early instead of us carpooling. I almost die when the music I had on in the morning blasts with enough force to take out the Hubble telescope, and I pray that I will be spared as the girls with nice cars fly through the parking lots like prized porkers at a pig race. After about eleven days, I finally start my journey home when some kind soul yields to let me exit the parking lot as parents from the middle school have been burning rubber trying to get their kids to whatever middle schoolers do after school.
If you’re wondering what happens after that, I couldn’t tell you. My brain goes completely dark as soon as my car leaves the general vicinity of my school and I wake up once I turn my car off at home. There’s only one thing to do once my shoes meet the pavement outside my house. I sprint to my with a determination second only to best friends that need to make people peeing in bathrooms feel awkward.
By the time I wake up, it’s 7:00 pm. I have done no homework. I feel like I’m recovering from an elephant dart to the eyeball, but I get out of bed because it’s time for Jeopardy! I shouldn’t take naps after school, but you can guess what I do anyway. I’m just too melodramatic to risk being tired at all.