Monday, November 4, 2013

Bad Habits Not Changing Anytime Soon

So, I have this terrible habit where I start writing "books," get about 3-7 chapters in, and quit. Sometimes I share what I've written, mostly I don't. This is my most recent project, which I've convinced myself I'm going to finish (I won't).

Part One

5 years ago . . .


September, 2008
                I feel like I’m trapped in a giant box, unable to get air through the suffocating metal heating with continuous rays of sunlight beating down on the exterior. Quite likely, it’s because I am trapped in a box; a giant yellow metal box, also known as a school bus. I can’t wait until I turn 16 and can finally drive myself to school like a normal teenager. On an average day, I strongly dislike being near people, especially a large number of people all crammed together like canned sardines. Today is particularly bad, however, because the lack of air conditioning is starting to get to me. I feel beads of sweat trailing down my spine and I rub my hand across the back of my neck in an effort to swipe some away. Two girls in the seat diagonal me are giving me a headache with their incessantly load chatter. The bus driver has told them multiple times to please quiet down, but they’re just ignoring him like they do every single day on this damn bus. I’m reaching my breaking point and I know I’m about to snap, but I just can’t bring myself to give a shit right now, I’m far too irritated. Another round of insanely obnoxious giggles ensues.
                “SHUT THE FUCK UP!” I whirl around in my seat and yell.
                A blanket of silence immediately falls over the entire bus. I sneak a peek at the bus driver to see if I’m in trouble and catch him stifling a smile, pretending he didn’t hear anything. Bus driver of the year award, anyone? I release a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding and relax back into my seat. Way to go, April. You haven’t even been in high school a week and you’ve already managed to alienate yourself. I feel a tap on my shoulder and reluctantly turn around.
                “I’m glad you said something to them. They were getting annoying as fuck.”
                I’m momentarily shocked. Not only because someone is actually talking to me, but because he’s freaking gorgeous. I take a moment to drink in his long, shoulder length dark hair and tanned skin. His brown eyes pierce into me with an intensity I’ve never felt before.
                “Thanks,” I say, “I’m April.”
                “Isaac,” he replies, flashing me a heart stopping grin.
                “Nice to meet you,” I blush and turn back around in my seat.
                How on earth has someone so hot sat directly behind me for nearly a week without me noticing? I steal a glance over my shoulder and notice he’s sitting alone, slumped in the seat with ear buds in. He’s nodding his head slightly to the beat of the music and appears lost in a world of his own. I note that he’s dressed in a black Volcom jacket and dark wash jeans; black wristbands adorn his arms. I look out the window and notice we’re only two blocks from my stop. I’m both disappointed and relieved. I’m glad to finally get off this awful bus, but sad because I didn’t get a chance to really talk to Isaac. The bus pulls to a stop and my jaw nearly drops as I see Isaac stand up. He winks at me as he passes my seat and exits the bus. Holy shit. The hot guy not only rides my bus, but he lives two blocks away. I’m never getting my license, never.
                The next day, on the bus ride to school, I’m practically bouncing in my seat. I can’t wait to get to school and ask my best friend, Danielle, about Isaac. Speaking of Isaac, I noticed he doesn’t ride the bus in the mornings, which kind of sucks because I was hoping for a chance to talk to him again since I pussied out yesterday.
                Finally! The bus pulls up to the school and I nearly push people to the ground in an effort to reach the exit. I skip down to the cafeteria and head towards our normal breakfast table. Of course, the girl you can always rely on to be on time is nowhere to be seen. Great. I anxiously tap my fingers on the table and wait for her to get here. Five minutes pass, then ten, and before I know it the bell is ringing for first period. Grudgingly, I get up and trudge to my first period history class. Once there, I slump in my seat and pout. I don’t have this class with Danielle, so I’m left alone with my thoughts.
                The teacher begins his lecture with a lame joke and proceeds to drone on about current events in his usual monotone voice. Five minutes into this class and I already want to check out, so I do. I lay my head down on the desk and take a nap for the rest of the hour. It’s not like I need to pay attention anyway. I have an A in this class even though I have zero idea what the teacher is saying half the time. Thank goodness for history books. Side note: the textbooks also make great pillows.
                At last, the bell rings to release us from first period, jerking me out of my peaceful slumber. I groggily drag myself out of the desk and pop my neck. On the way to second period English, I spot Danielle shoveling books into her locker. I push through the crowded hallway and make my way over to her.
                “Hey! I didn’t see you this morning. Where were you?”
                She sighed heavily, “My stupid bus was late. This better not mess up my perfect attendance record or I’m going to be pissed.”
                Danielle is super serious about school. It’s only our freshman year and she’s already planning things out for college. Straight A student with perfect attendance—she is pretty much guaranteed to be awesome at life after high school.
                “So . . . I met this guy yesterday . . .” I begin.
                “Wait! Tell me when we get to class, I don’t want to be late,” she stops me.
                I roll my eyes at her and smile, “Okay, deal, but hurry please!”
                Once we’re in class, I quickly jot a note for her:
Anyway! Like I was saying, I met this guy yesterday . . .
Oh! Do tell! Who was it and where did you meet him?
His name is Isaac and he rides my bus. Do you know him?
Sure! Hes a sophomore.
And . . .?
And hes nice.
He’s nice? That’s it?
Yep!
                Oooookay . . . that was helpful. Not. Clearly, I’m going to have to do some scouting of my own if I want to find anything out about Isaac. At least I know what grade he’s in now.
                The subsequent hours pass in a haze as I think about the next time I’ll get to see Isaac. When lunch rolls around, I eagerly scan the cafeteria hoping to catch a glimpse of him. I find him sitting at a table across the cafeteria from me, with a group of four or five other guys dressed in the same style skater clothes I saw him in yesterday.  I realize I’m staring, but I don’t care. I can’t wait for the bus ride home so I can talk to him, get to know him.

                The rest of the day seems to drag on forever until, finally, the last bell rings. Rushing out of the classroom, I realize for the first time I’m actually excited to be riding the bus. I make it to the bus so fast I’m one of the first ones on. I slip into my usual seat near the back of the bus and wait. Finally, after what seems like an eternity, I see him climb the bus stairs and saunter down the aisle. Wordlessly, he slides into the seat next to me, his leg pressing against mine.

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