Status: Weekly Updates, Maybe More
Running Never Got Me Anywhere
I'm Collecting Bones, but Closets are for Skeletons
”You can’t sit there.”
I look over at the petite blond, who’s making exaggerated faces at her mirror so her mascara goes on smoothly.
“Why not?”
“Someone else sits there,” she says, switching eyes.
I look around the nearly empty school bus. Currently, the only other people on the bus is the driver and a girl with black hair that fades to light blue tips.
“No one was here when I got on…” I trail off.
She sighs over-dramatically and lowers her make-up and mirror.
“Yes, it is,” she deadpans, “but the people that started coming here a few years ago get the back of the bus. It’s kind of like senior privilege for any other school.”
I nod slowly.
“Makes sense, I guess,” I say before collecting my book bag from the bus floor.
She gives me a sickly sweet smile before puckering her lips at the mirror to swipe lipstick across her lower one. I move closer to the girl with multi-color hair and point to the bus seat across from her.
“You can sit there,” she says, having heard the conversation I just had. “The girl who used to sit there graduated last year.”
I nod and slip into the faded grey seat.
“I’m Charity,” the girl says, holding out a hand with purple finger-nails.
I smile and slip my hand into hers. She shakes them with light enthusiasm.
“Alex. Nice name, by the way. Is it like, actually your name?”
She laughs and nods.
“My parents are a little too into the whole ‘giving back’ thing.”
It’s my turn to laugh as she makes an overly-dramatic exasperated expression.
“What’s your major?” she asks, turning to face me and putting her feet up on the seat next to her.
As we talk, more people spill in through the door, some looking excited to be back and others looking like death.
“Literary Arts,” I say, making Charity grin.
“Cool. I’m a media major, so we’ll probably be working together quite a bit. Angela is the girl you first talked to when you got on. She’s a dance major. I’d suggest steering clear from most of them. They’re kind of like your typical high school popular kids, but a lot less important to everyone else. Not all of them, I mean some are extremely sweet, but if anyone gives you problems, more often than not, it’s going to be either a dance or musical theater major.”
I nod and she glances out the window behind me.
“Not to be rude, but that’s my cue to stick my headphones in.”
She scrunches up her face and does just that. I turn to look out the window, wondering where the sudden change in her bubbly attitude is, but all I see is a lanky boy collecting his things from the car floor. I watch him while he walks onto the bus, practically skipping up the steps.
“Nice to see you again, Lauren,” he says to the bus driver cheerfully.
“Jack,” she replies with a nod.
Charity moves closer to the bus seat window like she’s psychically repealed by him as he walks past. He’s greeted by everyone in the back with smiles and happy faces. Even Angela’s sour face turns sweet as she leans across the aisle to ask how his summer was.
I look back at Charity and wonder why she doesn’t seem to like him. He seems nice enough to me. I shrug at my own thoughts and grab my iPod from one of my book bag pockets.
-
- The school is big and set up like a college compass. It’s made up of three buildings.
The main one, which is three floors. I’ve only been here one other time, and that was for orientation, but I came to the conclusion that that’s where most of the classes happen. The first floor is for the middle schoolers, since the grades for the school ranges from 7th to 12th. Along with that are the theaters, one used for practices and small events, the other for opening nights.
The second floor is where the dance and media classes happen, along with a few math classes. The third is where the other academic classes happen, and the smallest rooms are used for the Literary Department.
The second building is the dining hall, which is two floors. The first floor is the café; the second is where the music classes happen, vocal and instrumental. I was told that sometimes Literary classes take place in spare rooms.
The last building is the gym, where the science classes and sporting events take place. We have a girl’s and a boy’s basketball team, and a volleyball team. Any other sports kids participate in they do so with their home school. We can also legally go to our hometown’s dances and other events if we so desire.
The school operates on block scheduling, meaning I have four classes and a lunch, and we switch classes in the second semester. I’m in school from 8:30 to 3:16, and have a two hour bus ride to and from school - four hours total – everyday.
Beside the dining hall is a park, beautiful and full of life even at 8 in the morning, since we start school in August while every other school starts the day after Labor Day.
The bus drops us off in between the dining hall and the main building, and Charity loops her arm with mine after we get off. We walk across the street to get from the front of the main building to the dining hall, and she waves at the security guard who nods back.
It’s a short walk, maybe only twenty steps to get from one building to the other, and teachers are lined up outside.
“Welcome back!” rings out from about eighteen different adults.
I’m handed a peppermint candy from a bald man before I walk inside.
“Is it always like that?” I ask.
Charity nods and pops the candy into her mouth.
“Only on the first day, though. And the day before Christmas break, they have the vocal majors sing Christmas songs while we walk in.”
“That sounds kind of cool, actually.”
She smiles and pulls me over a table full of six other girls.
“You can’t tell me that the season was any good. Like, at all,” a tall brown haired girl wearing a red and black flannel shirt, with her hair pulled back into a sloppy pony-tail, says.
Glasses are perched at the edge of her nose, and they magnify her large green eyes.
“How was it not good?” the platinum blonde she’s talking to says, “Give me one good reason.”
The blonde is stick thin with larger breasts and curly hair that falls way past her shoulders.
“Give me one good reason that it was,” the brown haired girl responds.
The blonde never answers, because she sees Charity pull me down into the seat next to her, so she switches her attention to us.
“Hey, babe,” she says, “how was your summer? And who’s this?”
Her voice is innocent and curious, not judgmental in the slightest, and it’s kind of reassuring.
“Good. And this is Alex. Alex, that’s Jessie,” she points to the blond, “Linda,” the brown haired girl, “Kelsey, Abby, Lilith and Liv.”
Kelsey is a short girl with hair almost too light to be called brown, but not light enough to be called blonde. Abby is identical to her, only a bit chubbier in the face and stomach area.
Lilith is a ginger with hazel eyes and freckles across her cheeks. Liv has short black and purple hair that’s currently curled, and light blue eyes.
They all wave hello. I smile and nervously wave back. I’ve never been good at meeting new people, let alone so many at once.
“What’s your major?” Jessie asks, leaning over Lilith to snatch a part of Abby’s bagel.
“Literary Arts,” I say.
“Mine too,” she says, “I’ll show you around.”
Somewhere behind me a whistle is blown, and everyone is up and grabbing their things.
“We go to the auditorium now,” Charity tells me, before running after a boy with curly black hair.
I stand up and Jessie hooks her arm with mine.
“How are you liking it so far?” she asks, “Wait, don’t answer that. It didn’t even start yet.”
I laugh.
“I like it so far. Can ask you a question though?”
She nods.
“Who is Jack and why does Charity hate him?” I ask.
The question had been burning a hole into my mind since this morning. As the bus ride went on, there wasn’t really much in Jack’s attitude that seemed like an undesirable trait in a friend. I figure if anyone would know why Charity dislikes him, it’ll be her friends.
Despite my observations, Jessie scrunches her nose at the mention of his name we step back into the late summer morning.
“I’m not going to tell you who can and can’t be friends with, but don’t trust him.”
I turn my neck to look over at her.
“Why not?”
“He’s a huge gossip. Don’t tell him anything, or the whole school will know. Other than that, he’s total fine.”
I nod slowly, mentally placing Jack in my ‘Do Not Friend’ column. Some skeletons belong in closets.
I look over at the petite blond, who’s making exaggerated faces at her mirror so her mascara goes on smoothly.
“Why not?”
“Someone else sits there,” she says, switching eyes.
I look around the nearly empty school bus. Currently, the only other people on the bus is the driver and a girl with black hair that fades to light blue tips.
“No one was here when I got on…” I trail off.
She sighs over-dramatically and lowers her make-up and mirror.
“Yes, it is,” she deadpans, “but the people that started coming here a few years ago get the back of the bus. It’s kind of like senior privilege for any other school.”
I nod slowly.
“Makes sense, I guess,” I say before collecting my book bag from the bus floor.
She gives me a sickly sweet smile before puckering her lips at the mirror to swipe lipstick across her lower one. I move closer to the girl with multi-color hair and point to the bus seat across from her.
“You can sit there,” she says, having heard the conversation I just had. “The girl who used to sit there graduated last year.”
I nod and slip into the faded grey seat.
“I’m Charity,” the girl says, holding out a hand with purple finger-nails.
I smile and slip my hand into hers. She shakes them with light enthusiasm.
“Alex. Nice name, by the way. Is it like, actually your name?”
She laughs and nods.
“My parents are a little too into the whole ‘giving back’ thing.”
It’s my turn to laugh as she makes an overly-dramatic exasperated expression.
“What’s your major?” she asks, turning to face me and putting her feet up on the seat next to her.
As we talk, more people spill in through the door, some looking excited to be back and others looking like death.
“Literary Arts,” I say, making Charity grin.
“Cool. I’m a media major, so we’ll probably be working together quite a bit. Angela is the girl you first talked to when you got on. She’s a dance major. I’d suggest steering clear from most of them. They’re kind of like your typical high school popular kids, but a lot less important to everyone else. Not all of them, I mean some are extremely sweet, but if anyone gives you problems, more often than not, it’s going to be either a dance or musical theater major.”
I nod and she glances out the window behind me.
“Not to be rude, but that’s my cue to stick my headphones in.”
She scrunches up her face and does just that. I turn to look out the window, wondering where the sudden change in her bubbly attitude is, but all I see is a lanky boy collecting his things from the car floor. I watch him while he walks onto the bus, practically skipping up the steps.
“Nice to see you again, Lauren,” he says to the bus driver cheerfully.
“Jack,” she replies with a nod.
Charity moves closer to the bus seat window like she’s psychically repealed by him as he walks past. He’s greeted by everyone in the back with smiles and happy faces. Even Angela’s sour face turns sweet as she leans across the aisle to ask how his summer was.
I look back at Charity and wonder why she doesn’t seem to like him. He seems nice enough to me. I shrug at my own thoughts and grab my iPod from one of my book bag pockets.
-
- The school is big and set up like a college compass. It’s made up of three buildings.
The main one, which is three floors. I’ve only been here one other time, and that was for orientation, but I came to the conclusion that that’s where most of the classes happen. The first floor is for the middle schoolers, since the grades for the school ranges from 7th to 12th. Along with that are the theaters, one used for practices and small events, the other for opening nights.
The second floor is where the dance and media classes happen, along with a few math classes. The third is where the other academic classes happen, and the smallest rooms are used for the Literary Department.
The second building is the dining hall, which is two floors. The first floor is the café; the second is where the music classes happen, vocal and instrumental. I was told that sometimes Literary classes take place in spare rooms.
The last building is the gym, where the science classes and sporting events take place. We have a girl’s and a boy’s basketball team, and a volleyball team. Any other sports kids participate in they do so with their home school. We can also legally go to our hometown’s dances and other events if we so desire.
The school operates on block scheduling, meaning I have four classes and a lunch, and we switch classes in the second semester. I’m in school from 8:30 to 3:16, and have a two hour bus ride to and from school - four hours total – everyday.
Beside the dining hall is a park, beautiful and full of life even at 8 in the morning, since we start school in August while every other school starts the day after Labor Day.
The bus drops us off in between the dining hall and the main building, and Charity loops her arm with mine after we get off. We walk across the street to get from the front of the main building to the dining hall, and she waves at the security guard who nods back.
It’s a short walk, maybe only twenty steps to get from one building to the other, and teachers are lined up outside.
“Welcome back!” rings out from about eighteen different adults.
I’m handed a peppermint candy from a bald man before I walk inside.
“Is it always like that?” I ask.
Charity nods and pops the candy into her mouth.
“Only on the first day, though. And the day before Christmas break, they have the vocal majors sing Christmas songs while we walk in.”
“That sounds kind of cool, actually.”
She smiles and pulls me over a table full of six other girls.
“You can’t tell me that the season was any good. Like, at all,” a tall brown haired girl wearing a red and black flannel shirt, with her hair pulled back into a sloppy pony-tail, says.
Glasses are perched at the edge of her nose, and they magnify her large green eyes.
“How was it not good?” the platinum blonde she’s talking to says, “Give me one good reason.”
The blonde is stick thin with larger breasts and curly hair that falls way past her shoulders.
“Give me one good reason that it was,” the brown haired girl responds.
The blonde never answers, because she sees Charity pull me down into the seat next to her, so she switches her attention to us.
“Hey, babe,” she says, “how was your summer? And who’s this?”
Her voice is innocent and curious, not judgmental in the slightest, and it’s kind of reassuring.
“Good. And this is Alex. Alex, that’s Jessie,” she points to the blond, “Linda,” the brown haired girl, “Kelsey, Abby, Lilith and Liv.”
Kelsey is a short girl with hair almost too light to be called brown, but not light enough to be called blonde. Abby is identical to her, only a bit chubbier in the face and stomach area.
Lilith is a ginger with hazel eyes and freckles across her cheeks. Liv has short black and purple hair that’s currently curled, and light blue eyes.
They all wave hello. I smile and nervously wave back. I’ve never been good at meeting new people, let alone so many at once.
“What’s your major?” Jessie asks, leaning over Lilith to snatch a part of Abby’s bagel.
“Literary Arts,” I say.
“Mine too,” she says, “I’ll show you around.”
Somewhere behind me a whistle is blown, and everyone is up and grabbing their things.
“We go to the auditorium now,” Charity tells me, before running after a boy with curly black hair.
I stand up and Jessie hooks her arm with mine.
“How are you liking it so far?” she asks, “Wait, don’t answer that. It didn’t even start yet.”
I laugh.
“I like it so far. Can ask you a question though?”
She nods.
“Who is Jack and why does Charity hate him?” I ask.
The question had been burning a hole into my mind since this morning. As the bus ride went on, there wasn’t really much in Jack’s attitude that seemed like an undesirable trait in a friend. I figure if anyone would know why Charity dislikes him, it’ll be her friends.
Despite my observations, Jessie scrunches her nose at the mention of his name we step back into the late summer morning.
“I’m not going to tell you who can and can’t be friends with, but don’t trust him.”
I turn my neck to look over at her.
“Why not?”
“He’s a huge gossip. Don’t tell him anything, or the whole school will know. Other than that, he’s total fine.”
I nod slowly, mentally placing Jack in my ‘Do Not Friend’ column. Some skeletons belong in closets.