One, two…three…four…five, six pills down. Sigh. Seven, eight—Two more today. Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one—ten seconds on inhaler #1. Do it again. Rinse mouth. Test blood sugar. Pack lunchbox. Eat breakfast. Lose lunchbox. Hug Jake…hug Mom. Find lunchbox. Hug Dad. Hunt for favorite pen. Hug Jake again. Grab books. Beg Jake for a ride…wish I can drive…get on bus.
Finally, I'm on my way to school. I dig for my IPod in my backpack and try to turn it on, but I get a message: Low battery, powering off. Then the screen goes dark.
I have no music to entertain myself. The ride is twenty minutes, thirty if the driver gets lost. I bite down on my lip, as thoughts start to swirl through my head. Jake is leaving. I’m gonna miss him. I try to imagine what it’ll be like, being the only child in the house. I’ve gotten used to just me and him over the last couple years, but now it’s all me. That kind of sucks. I’ll miss that guy.
I prop my feet up in the seat and move my backpack to my lap. I’m glad I got to talk with Mollie last night. I think. My sister is a junior at Northwestern and the only other girl in the family. She taught me two things growing up: How to mess with our oldest brother Will, and how to make my hair look good. For the longest time, she was like a second mom to me. She’s five years older, and we didn’t really play together when we were little. I grew into things as she grew out of them. It’s still that way; I just appreciate it now. Her advice is priceless and her spirit is unstoppable.
At every block, kids get on in groups and cram into seats. Some are talking, some do homework last minute. The boy across from me falls asleep. But I’m just thinking, mulling over nothing in particular.
Finally the bus crawls to the curb and everyone pushes their way into the aisle. My backpack isn’t even that heavy yet, just a few notebooks, yet my back, shoulders, and arms ache when I pick it up. I sigh. Today is a deep muscle pain kind of day, hence the Tylenol working its way to my stomach. Like always, I’ll push through and go to school and be with my friends. If I’m up to it, I’ll go to color guard. I can do this.
“Hey Anna!” A voice calls behind me. It’s Ryan, stepping off the bus in front of mine.
“Hey,” I force a smile and pause in the current of people to let him catch up to me.“How’s it going?”
“Pretty good.” He shifts his gym bag on his arm and gives me a crooked grin. “My brother is getting married. Nathan: he proposed to Kate last night.”
“Oh that’s awesome!” I say. “Jake is leaving for college today. Mollie and Will have been gone for a week.”
He nods slightly and quickly steps in front of me to pull the door open. “Ben and Adam are leaving today too.” He says, pushing a sandy lock of hair out his sleepy green eyes. He really needs a haircut.“Thank God. I’m getting sick of having them around.”
“You’ll miss them.” I say.
“No,” he shakes his head. “I won’t. I mean…” His face spreads into another easy smile. “I guess I will, but I’m getting sick of them bickering all the time.”
“Oh, okay,” I say. “See I have a sister in there. Mollie—“
“Completely kicks their butts, right?”
I laugh. “Yeah, basically. She either keeps the peace, or distracts me. But my brothers don’t fight as much as yours do.”
He rolls his eyes. “No one fights as much as my brothers do and it’s all about really stupid stuff.” But I know for a fact he wouldn’t change that for the world.
“It always is, but I find it amusing.” We pass rows and rows of grey lockers and hustling kids.
“You’ve met them twice,” he says. “ I've lived with them for fifteen years. Fifteen years and no one has changed a bit.”
“My mom always said we were born with our personalities.”
He nods. “Yeah, my mom says that too. I was the quietest of all of us. No surprise there, right?”
We pass his locker, but he keeps walking. “Nope, not at all.” I laugh a little, but I’m not really sure why. “I don’t really know what I was like when I was little.”
“Sick.” He says.
I smile sadly. My shoulders are still tight and tired. “Uh-huh. Sick.”
“Sorry,” he hesitates. “Was that out of line?”
I put my hand on the lock and start to enter my combo. “Nope,” I tell him. “just a little close to home at the moment.”
“Huh?” He answers, with a cock of his left eyebrow.
“I’m not feeling great today.” I admit, putting my lunchbox on the shelf.
“Oh, sorry.” My lunch box wants to slide back off the shelf. Ryan reaches over me and catches it before it falls on my head. I lean down and grab a binder from my locker and lay a notebook on the shelve. “You okay?” He asks.
I slam the locker shut, harder than I intended. “Yeah,” I sigh. “I guess. Just achy today. It happens sometimes.”
He stands there a moment and hesitates again. “Oh. Still that sucks.”
“Yeah,” I laugh a little. “Yeah, it does.”
Brooklynn catches my eye across the hall. She smiles, points back and forth between me and Ryan, and curls her hands into a heart. I shake my head vehemently. No. I am not dating Ryan. (yet) I think. Shut up, Brooklynn Noelle, before he sees you.
“What?” Ryan turns around. Brooklynn giggles and ducks her head. I’m gonna kill her.
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Canary word: Present
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125,020 Literary Works • 672,861 Reviews
Gah, reached the end of what is up. *sad*
Mmmkay, same main critique here as last chapter: lots of wonderful characterization, not really much substance. It feels like it's just kicking off before it ends, like something's actually about to come to a head, but then it doesn't.
I'm beginning to feel the lack of conflict here. I seem to recall you mentioning (in an author's note? on the novel page?) that there isn't much of a main conflict in this story. Okay, I can live with that. There's enough conflict in the character's lives as they deal with their individual problems. But I need to see a little more direct conflict in the chapters. I've mentioned that the characters feel very true to life. They do, which is wonderful. But there is a danger in being too true to life. Real people have boring lives. We do. Not much exciting happens to us. It's why we like to escape into fiction, because there we can find some escape from the hum-drumness of our own lives.
It's not like the escape has to be all that fantastic. I'm not expecting zombies to start pouring down the hallways or one of the teachers to end up being an evil dictator bent on taking over the world, but some sort of direct conflict is necessary in a story to make it interesting, some sort of goal to be trying to achieve. Otherwise, we might as well be reading a transcript of an ordinary student's life.
Don't get me wrong. I'm still completely in love with these characters. But I'm beginning to feel like the story is a little aimless. Maybe it's not. Maybe it's just me. But it's something to keep in mind, I suppose.
Really, very nice. Please let me know when you post more and I will happily read and review! And, for the sake of sounding like a broken record yet again, feel free to send me a PM or leave a note on my wall if you have any questions!
~GryphonFledgling