"Dad. I'm not going to school today." Oh how badly I was tempted to say those words as I feasted upon my cereal, if you consider stirring the spoon around in a full bowl of Cheerios a very enthusiastic way to have one's breakfast. I really didn't want to go to school though. I didn't want to see Damien, I didn't want to be questioned by his friends and I certainly did not want to give in which I knew was a very high possibility.
"So how is that project coming along? Did you and your friend Damien finish up most of it yesterday?"
"Huh?" I asked, my head snapping up to look at my dad who looked quite amused. "Sorry," I murmured, "I just have a lot on my mind."
"I'm sure you do May." My father said, eyeing my breakfast. "Are you sure you're alright dear?"
"I'm fine dad. Anyways, I should really get going." Standing up, I slung my school bag over my shoulder and then leaned over the length of the small wooden table to give my dad a kiss. After yesterday's outburst, I had the weirdest feeling of wanting him to know how much I cared. I never had been the kiss-and-hug kind of daughter but people changed.
"Now I really am worried," he chuckled but looked happy nonetheless. "See you after school!"
I gave him a little wave as I headed out the kitchen and towards the front door. Today was going to be a long day.
Literature. That was what I had for first two periods. I groaned internally as I walked into the school, glancing at my watch which let me know that I was about twenty minutes late. I'd already fetched my tardy-note from the receptionist, and now all I'd have to do was hand it over to Mrs. Hammond and I'd be in without any trouble. The question was, did I want to be in?
There was a reason I was late. I'd walked as slowly as I possibly could, taking the long-route to school knowing that I would end up showing way after the bell had rung for first period. Why was I doing this? Because I wanted to avoid this day as much as I could.
That gang - Damien, Leo and Nick - were like three high-school it girls. They were all popular, and also a very tightly knit group. Gossip mongrels, in other words. I knew that the two other goofs would already have heard the whole story from Damien about my little 'act' yesterday afternoon. I didn't want to explain anything to them though.
Yet, as I stood there staring at the door beyond which I could hear Mrs. Hammond ramble on about something in that deadly monotonous voice of hers, I knew there would be no going back now. With a deep breath, I opened the door and walked in.