LATE might as well be the kind of four-letter-word people censor with asterisks. That’s how much I hate being late, especially to school. I’m as flustered and impatient as the white rabbit. “No time to say hello/goodbye. I’m late, I’m late, I’m late!”
Today is one of those l**e days. I just woke up, heart galloping in my chest, head dizzy from catapulting out of bed to the buzzing of my younger sister’s alarm.
Eep! Forget the shower, cute hair, or outfit that was going to say I’m totally fine with my newly single status. Instead I shimmy into the skinny jeans I wore yesterday and snag the first top my fingers touch in my closet. Ink blue and purple, so not my colors. It’s gonna be a long day.
Here’s hoping my hair doesn’t look like Medusa’s snakes have partied in it.
My mom’s eyes widen over the rim of her coffee mug when I enter the kitchen struggling into the sleeves of my new, spearmint-colored parka. “Merritt, what happened to taking the bus until your car’s fixed?” she asks.
“I forgot to set my alarm.” Though maybe my subconscious forgot on purpose. It knows how much I’ve been dreading the end of Winter Break. “Can you take me?”
“There’s a foot of snow outside. Do you really think I’d make you walk?”
“I don’t know; maybe.”
She gives me a look that says I’m being way too dramatic about my life, and she’s probably right.
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