Dust
That is a bear
I was awoken by a bright light shining over my face, turning the insides of my eyelids pink. My eyes fluttered open and squinted against the sunlight pouring through my un-curtained window. Nana was still laid on my bed, her giant head resting on my stomach, snoring. I pushed her away and she woke, looking at me in surprise as if to say, 'what did you do that for?'
She jumped down from my bed and I followed, hopping across the cold wooden floor to my closet. My dog followed me, eagerly awaiting breakfast.
"Wait," I said as I pulled out my clothes for today, she sat with a pleading look in her eyes.
After changing and watching Nana paw at the door for a few moments, I opened it and stepped into the dark hallway - there were no windows here, just three doors, mine opposite my brother's and my parent's at the end. My dog was already thundering down the stairs so I rushed to catch up with her before -
"Ahh!" Too late. "Rhianne! Get down here and sort this dog out!"
I laughed softly to myself as I descended the stairs. Once I had emerged at the bottom, I rested my chin on the banister and smirked.
"What did she do this time?"
My brother glared furiously at my amused expression. "Jumped up to the counter and stole my toast."
"Oh Chris, she's only a puppy," I reasoned, moving into the kitchen to make my own toast and to feed Nana.
"That is not a puppy," Chris said, pointing to my dog, who was crouching playfully, "that is a bear."
I ate my toast quickly as the kitchen clock told me I had five minutes. I rushed myself into the bathroom to wash myself and then emerged, diving out of door whilst stuffing my feet into a pair of grubby white Converse.
The walk to school was uneventful and lonely. Usually I would walk to school with Emily, but I left too late to catch up with her.
Eventually my journey ended with the appearance of my grey, pebble dashed school, surrounded by hundreds of students slowly making their way to their classes. I would be one of those students, had I not forgotten that I needed to be in early to collect my schedule. Stupid Rhianne.
So, instead of actually turning up on time, I hurried off to the reception - another grey building with rusting window frames and glass that had been replaced more times that I'd breathed.
Inside the building was a different story; my school tried to make an effort for the parents of those students who were never in class and always sat outside the principle's office. The walls were an off-white cream colour with a burgundy carpet. The counter behind which the hag of a receptionist sat was made of some kind of dark wood and all of the chairs were cushioned, to make the troublemakers comfortable.
I ambled over to the counter and stood leaning my elbows on it, next to a boy dressed in all black with black hair. I paid him no more attention as when I reached the desk, he quickly turned around and marched in the opposite direction. The receptionist then turn her ugly, fat, wrinkled face to me.
"Yes?"
"I need my schedule."
She raised one of her bushy black eyebrows, "you're late."
"I was at the police station." In my school, this was a legitimate excuse, one that many students used.
The receptionist rolled her yellowing eyes, muttering something about screw ups.
"Name?"
"Uh, Rhianne Collins," I said blankly, then, when I saw the labelled piles of paper added, "seniors."
The woman picked up a small pile of paper with a pink sticky note on the top saying 'seniors'. There were only three schedules in the pile as everyone else had theirs already. She handed me mine and I said a quick thankyou and hurried away.
Okay, now I was organised it would be a good idea to check which class I'm in...
I shuffled with the papers in my hand, looked at the table and cursed quietly. Spanish?! Fuck my life. I considered skipping it for a moment then decided that that would be a very, very bad idea. Skipping Mr James' class was lethal.
So I begrudgingly made my way to my class, walking a little faster than normal as I was already late. The heavy wooden door I arrived at looked quite menacing as I prepared myself and then pushed it open.
It was dark inside and a small, ancient TV was at the front of the class, showing on it some black and white Spanish movie. Mr James sat at his desk, reading a piece of paper.
"You're late, Miss Collins," he said, without looking up.
I rolled my eyes, I thought I'd managed to sneak in. "I know sir, I'm sorry, I forgot to get my -"
"I don't care."
I stopped speaking abruptly and went to find a seat. There wasn't many left, but I managed to find a table on my own.
The door opened as I sat down and, since there was no-one left to be late, Mr James had to look up.
A boy of around six foot had entered, dressed all in black - the boy I had passed in reception. This time I saw his face, it was pale with dark eyes and a glum expression. Slightly large ears poked out of his shaggy black hair. I recognised this person immediately, even after seven months I had still not forgotten the moody eighteen year old who was so skinny he looked like he would snap. William Roy Francis.
She jumped down from my bed and I followed, hopping across the cold wooden floor to my closet. My dog followed me, eagerly awaiting breakfast.
"Wait," I said as I pulled out my clothes for today, she sat with a pleading look in her eyes.
After changing and watching Nana paw at the door for a few moments, I opened it and stepped into the dark hallway - there were no windows here, just three doors, mine opposite my brother's and my parent's at the end. My dog was already thundering down the stairs so I rushed to catch up with her before -
"Ahh!" Too late. "Rhianne! Get down here and sort this dog out!"
I laughed softly to myself as I descended the stairs. Once I had emerged at the bottom, I rested my chin on the banister and smirked.
"What did she do this time?"
My brother glared furiously at my amused expression. "Jumped up to the counter and stole my toast."
"Oh Chris, she's only a puppy," I reasoned, moving into the kitchen to make my own toast and to feed Nana.
"That is not a puppy," Chris said, pointing to my dog, who was crouching playfully, "that is a bear."
I ate my toast quickly as the kitchen clock told me I had five minutes. I rushed myself into the bathroom to wash myself and then emerged, diving out of door whilst stuffing my feet into a pair of grubby white Converse.
The walk to school was uneventful and lonely. Usually I would walk to school with Emily, but I left too late to catch up with her.
Eventually my journey ended with the appearance of my grey, pebble dashed school, surrounded by hundreds of students slowly making their way to their classes. I would be one of those students, had I not forgotten that I needed to be in early to collect my schedule. Stupid Rhianne.
So, instead of actually turning up on time, I hurried off to the reception - another grey building with rusting window frames and glass that had been replaced more times that I'd breathed.
Inside the building was a different story; my school tried to make an effort for the parents of those students who were never in class and always sat outside the principle's office. The walls were an off-white cream colour with a burgundy carpet. The counter behind which the hag of a receptionist sat was made of some kind of dark wood and all of the chairs were cushioned, to make the troublemakers comfortable.
I ambled over to the counter and stood leaning my elbows on it, next to a boy dressed in all black with black hair. I paid him no more attention as when I reached the desk, he quickly turned around and marched in the opposite direction. The receptionist then turn her ugly, fat, wrinkled face to me.
"Yes?"
"I need my schedule."
She raised one of her bushy black eyebrows, "you're late."
"I was at the police station." In my school, this was a legitimate excuse, one that many students used.
The receptionist rolled her yellowing eyes, muttering something about screw ups.
"Name?"
"Uh, Rhianne Collins," I said blankly, then, when I saw the labelled piles of paper added, "seniors."
The woman picked up a small pile of paper with a pink sticky note on the top saying 'seniors'. There were only three schedules in the pile as everyone else had theirs already. She handed me mine and I said a quick thankyou and hurried away.
Okay, now I was organised it would be a good idea to check which class I'm in...
I shuffled with the papers in my hand, looked at the table and cursed quietly. Spanish?! Fuck my life. I considered skipping it for a moment then decided that that would be a very, very bad idea. Skipping Mr James' class was lethal.
So I begrudgingly made my way to my class, walking a little faster than normal as I was already late. The heavy wooden door I arrived at looked quite menacing as I prepared myself and then pushed it open.
It was dark inside and a small, ancient TV was at the front of the class, showing on it some black and white Spanish movie. Mr James sat at his desk, reading a piece of paper.
"You're late, Miss Collins," he said, without looking up.
I rolled my eyes, I thought I'd managed to sneak in. "I know sir, I'm sorry, I forgot to get my -"
"I don't care."
I stopped speaking abruptly and went to find a seat. There wasn't many left, but I managed to find a table on my own.
The door opened as I sat down and, since there was no-one left to be late, Mr James had to look up.
A boy of around six foot had entered, dressed all in black - the boy I had passed in reception. This time I saw his face, it was pale with dark eyes and a glum expression. Slightly large ears poked out of his shaggy black hair. I recognised this person immediately, even after seven months I had still not forgotten the moody eighteen year old who was so skinny he looked like he would snap. William Roy Francis.