Young Writers Society

this is a narrative i wrote about my high school.

628 AM

by Kisba

It was 6:28. But I didn't know that. I forgot to wash my hair last night. But I wasn't thinking about that.

I didn't really need to think at all, yet. All I really knew were the sounds of rain parading outside, rolling down the glass of my dark windows, and the quiet, robotic, calming voice of T-pain, coming from my desk.

As I began to fall back asleep, I was startled as I heard a train wreck of sounds, colliding with T-pain's soft voice, with lights I recognized after a few seconds too long as my phone ringing. The train wreck became clearer to my sleepy mind as "sweet and low". The caller ID reads, "Dior JimJim". So this is the surprise he mentioned was going to happen this morning.

"Hey...” I pressed the phone to my ear.

"Hiiiiii! This is the surprise!!" he was much too awake for 6:28. I moved the phone an inch or two away from my ear.

"Did I wake you up?" asked Dior. "Uhh, no... I’m awake...” I replied. And as early as it was, I was surprisingly happy to be talking to him. "Ok well I have to brush my teeth, bye!” and the phone lit up in the dark, indicating the call was ended. I tried to resume listening to music and the world outside, but I felt like the moment had come and gone. I slept until 7:14.

The act of repositioning my legs from the bed to the floor took an unusually fierce amount of strength. It’s typically more brainless from there to the rest of the morning. I used the bathroom, got dressed, and fulfilled the everyday zombie tasks I surprisingly can NOT do in my sleep. By 7:20, I was trudging east down Kenilworth Road in the rain, thankful for the morning's sleepy darkness.

When the bus arrived, I moved to the back, avoiding the eyes of any one individual, stepping over nameless pairs of legs stretched across the aisle.

Once at the back, I took a seat in the wrinkled green half-seat that resides at the back of each bus to allow access to the fire escape, taking 3 pieces of Stride and chewing away. Something about sitting down in the warm bus every morning makes me happy. Looking around, I noticed David and Mark talking in the seats in front of me, quietly. I looked on silently as David tapped away at a text message to his girlfriend, telling her how excited he is for prom. I connected the dots as the two guys spoke about how he cheated on her last week. I returned to focusing all energy on chewing gum, neither surprised nor angry. It isn't my business. The real reason I didn't care was because maybe I left myself at home today. My body continued chewing and staying awake.

Within a few minutes, the bus was in the parking lot, rolling in among a hundred tired faces moving towards the main building. As I move into the 2nd floor hallway, I noticed Joe piling things in his locker. I did my best not to stare, moving down the center of the hall. I exchanged hellos with Nick O., remarking that it was ironic because we both got haircuts over the weekend. I moved to my locker and thought about how it wasn't even that ironic.

Evan greeted me next to my locker. I was waiting for him to ask if I got crazy drunk this weekend, or if I did any of the English homework, or if I heard about whatever happened to some guy I don't know over the weekend, or if I knew where Michelle Obama was. Instead, he just asked me if I had any gum. I gave him 2 pieces and opened the locker. The faint, teasing smell of cigarettes greeted me as it always does when I open my locker. The creepy thing is that no one smokes inside the building.

I placed my gym clothes, fresh from my laundry yesterday, onto the top shelf, shaking the year old, half empty bottle of pink lemonade. Every day I wonder if I might throw it away someday. I don't know why I don't.

Moving to first period, I fell asleep again during announcements. When I woke up, Mr. D told everyone I wasn't showing "expertise". Well, I must have forgotten how professional I am. Seriously. So then he made me go to the board and simplify polynomial addition. Or at least I think that's what I was doing. I got it right, so I got to sit down.

Computer class was wasted as always, because all I had the energy and the willpower to do was look for updates on Chris Brown and Rihanna.

We talked about sexual reproduction in plants during my biology class. All I really thought about was how funny it might be to watch plant porn. Just random pollen seeds landing in pine cones. Hot.

Gym class was filled with me and Zach talking to Brad about which movies might be fun to watch on LSD. Speed Racer, Spirited Away, Wall-E, A Bug's Life, Poseidon, 1408..... They all sound head spinning.

Theology class was consumed with screaming and random, juvenile accusations from Mr. R, the Naive, purely explosive young teacher. For all of his anger, he still has no control over his class. No one ever complains though. I usually spend classes sitting in the corner desks with Clint and Joel. Clint always sits with his back against the cold, brick wall. I sit sideways and listen to Joel tell stories about what he likes to do when he goes hunting, while we laugh at the occasional distasteful comment. Today was no different.

Lunch was lunch. I talked to Evan, Clint, and Dan while Dingus prepared for his English presentation. Something in my mind told me, you’re going to laugh your ass off. Maybe it had something to do with seeing Dingus pouring ketchup into a Styrofoam bowl. He then covered it with black construction paper. The idea was to look like the Cyclopes from the Odyssey. During his presentation, Albert used the remote under his desk to mess with the PowerPoint slides. Dingus began flipping a shit, but later admitted it was all in good humor. I must admit it was the first genuine laugh of the day. English class usually is.

Spanish class was an eternity of words, phrases, and pictures lost in my mind; the everyday chat is a complex series of beautiful tongue clicks, as I always find myself lost. As pages turned, I left for History class. It was just a movie about Benjamin Franklin (He sports badass glasses and a bad British accent).

Once the last bell rang, I was worrying how sad everyone might collectively grow if it snows again. I moved to my locker and wished for a message in my phone that wasn't from twitter, the giant cesspool of rejected and regretted thoughts while I climbed the steps into the dark, damp bus. Fortunately, there was one from Dior. He managed to contact me through Lisa's phone, causing the second genuine laugh of the day.

And about 30 seconds from now, the bus doors will close, and I’ll be going home to do it all again from 6:28 in the morning.