Status: Sorry to leave you hanging guys! The keyboard on my laptop is malfunctioning.
Stop Pretending That You're Sorry
5
“Regan I warned you, 3 lates in a row and it’s detention,” Mr. Harrington sighed when I strolled into class Thursday morning, 20 minutes late.
At least my face had improved a bit after some ice and makeup.
To be honest I was kind of glad I got detention. Less time I had to spend at home, and I had a legitimate reason not to be there.
Plus it was with Mr. Harrington which meant at least I had something nice to look at the whole time.
There was only one other kid and he just sat in the back corner and fell asleep.
I can't really call him out on it though since I wasn’t any more productive than him. I spent my time doodling on homework sheets. If you haven’t noticed, I had quite the difficulty with focusing, especially on things I didn’t particularly like.
“Alright, time’s up. You’re free. And Regan, please get to school on time tomorrow.”
If only I could’ve.
And so I started my daily exercise routine of walking all the fucking way home. Goddammit. I really was beginning to hate that. At least my iPod was charged this time.
I popped the buds into my ears and let the music take my mind to a different world entirely.
I don’t know how long I was in la la land, but I floated back to reality when a really loud car horn scared the shit out of me.
There was a car going about 5 miles per hour, following me along the road. My initial thought was, “Oh my god I’m going to get kidnapped” but then they rolled down the window to reveal a familiar face.
“You should’ve told me if you didn’t have a ride home, Regan. We could’ve rescheduled your detention.” It was Mr. H.
“No it’s fine, I do this everyday.”
“Everyday? In the mornings too? Is that why you’re always late?”
“Kind of,” I sighed, my secret finally revealed.
“Why don’t you just catch the bus?”
“It doesn’t come to my house.”
At this point we had both stopped moving.
“Come on, get in. I’ll give you a ride home.”
“No I’m fine, seriously.”
“I’m serious Regan. I’m headed this way anyway. Please? I’m worried something could happen to you. What if you get kidnapped?”
“How do I know you’re not kidnapping me?” I joked, but climbed into the passenger’s seat all the same.
“So where to?” He asked.
And then I realized that he was going to see that I lived in a crack den. Shit.
At least my face had improved a bit after some ice and makeup.
To be honest I was kind of glad I got detention. Less time I had to spend at home, and I had a legitimate reason not to be there.
Plus it was with Mr. Harrington which meant at least I had something nice to look at the whole time.
There was only one other kid and he just sat in the back corner and fell asleep.
I can't really call him out on it though since I wasn’t any more productive than him. I spent my time doodling on homework sheets. If you haven’t noticed, I had quite the difficulty with focusing, especially on things I didn’t particularly like.
“Alright, time’s up. You’re free. And Regan, please get to school on time tomorrow.”
If only I could’ve.
And so I started my daily exercise routine of walking all the fucking way home. Goddammit. I really was beginning to hate that. At least my iPod was charged this time.
I popped the buds into my ears and let the music take my mind to a different world entirely.
I don’t know how long I was in la la land, but I floated back to reality when a really loud car horn scared the shit out of me.
There was a car going about 5 miles per hour, following me along the road. My initial thought was, “Oh my god I’m going to get kidnapped” but then they rolled down the window to reveal a familiar face.
“You should’ve told me if you didn’t have a ride home, Regan. We could’ve rescheduled your detention.” It was Mr. H.
“No it’s fine, I do this everyday.”
“Everyday? In the mornings too? Is that why you’re always late?”
“Kind of,” I sighed, my secret finally revealed.
“Why don’t you just catch the bus?”
“It doesn’t come to my house.”
At this point we had both stopped moving.
“Come on, get in. I’ll give you a ride home.”
“No I’m fine, seriously.”
“I’m serious Regan. I’m headed this way anyway. Please? I’m worried something could happen to you. What if you get kidnapped?”
“How do I know you’re not kidnapping me?” I joked, but climbed into the passenger’s seat all the same.
“So where to?” He asked.
And then I realized that he was going to see that I lived in a crack den. Shit.