“Jessi, wake up! Claire whispers harshly. Next comes an elbow shoved into my rib cage from my so-called friend. I jack knife into a sitting position from resting my head on my arms on the table and fight the urge to look around the room. I wasn’t asleep, but even acting like I’m sleeping is bad in English class.
“There isn’t a problem, is there, Roarke?” I continue to stare straight at the chalkboard. Mr. Cummings is like a military instructor. He calls all his students by their last name.
“No, Mr. Cummings.” I keep my voice as even as possible. The slightest indication of an attitude will get me detention on the first day of school.
“Hmm,” is his only reply. He continues his lecture, and I successfully continue to tune him out. Mr. Cummings is a tough cookie, and the unfortunate part is that he is the only teacher who teaches AP English class. Anyone who is even thinking about going to college takes it.
He slowly paces back and forth in front of the chalkboard, gesturing as he drones on about the syllabus for the semester. As he turns his back away from me, my friend Claire crosses her eyes and sticks her tongue out at me. I smile and roll my eyes before Mr. Cummings turns around.
The only good things about this class are that I’m sitting right next to the window and that it’s the last class of the day. It’s such a pretty day, and I can’t help but feel it’s a waste.
Starting school in August sucks because it’s still technically summer. I hear Mr. Cummings rambles on about the big literary critique that is due at the end of the semester, and not to leave it until the end of the semester to do.
I struggle to find peace of mind as his scratchy voice pollutes the air in the room. His thick glasses magnify these small, beady eyes, making them appear inhumanely penetrating. He has a slight limp that no one knows from what, but of course, the student body speculates. He has a cane but only carries it around with him. Instead of using it, he gestures wildly whenever he''s upset or lecturing a student.
“Now don’t forget this literary critique is worth fifty percent of your grade, don’t blow it off and don’t wait until the end of the semester to do it.” I can feel his eyes scanning the room and I look back at him in time to meet his eyes before he catches me staring out the window. His eyes settle on mine a fraction of a second too long and I can’t help but feel he has it out for me, but I think every student would say that.
The bell rings, and I can feel the tension leave the room as everyone jumps up and shoves their books and notebooks into their book bag. Mr. Cummings has a very harsh punishment for the clock watchers, who start getting ready to leave ten minutes before class is over. Mr. Cummings pushes his glasses up on the bridge of his nose, grunts, walks over to his desk to pick up his briefcase, and is out the door before any of the students can make it out. Maybe he hates being a teacher as much as we hate having him as a teacher.
I think the first day of school is the worst day of the year, the beginning of a jail sentence for the next nine months. I look over to see Claire chatting with the surrounding students. She is so confident and stylish; I wish I could be more like her. She turns towards me.
“Hey, don’t make an enemy of Mr. Cummings on the first day. He is notorious for holding grudges.” I roll my eyes.
“You don’t have to tell me twice.” I gather up my notebook and let my eyes drift out the window one last time before I get up and leave. Luckily, school started on a Wednesday, so we’re halfway through the week already.
Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.
I thought being a senior this year would make things easier in school, but I’m finding the exact opposite. The pressure is on to decide about college and our future and the truth is I haven’t even thought about it. I’m even questioning why I signed up for this class if I’m not sure. Why torture myself when I don’t have to?
I guess it’s better to keep all my options open.
But in the meantime, Claire and I joined the honors society to look good on college applications. After school today, we’re supposed to meet at the local hospital to volunteer for a few hours. I’m already hitting the ground running, and it’s only the first day back. If this is any indication of how the rest of the year is going to be, I’m not even going to have time to make big life decisions.
I take a deep breath and get up. As I approach Claire, she waves off some students I don’t recognize and says, “Ready to head to the hospital?”
“Yeah, I guess.”
Claire gives me a reassuring smile. “I’m sure it won’t be as bad as you think.” She gives me a nudge as we leave the classroom. “Maybe we’ll be inspired to be doctors. This could change your whole life!”
“I think you’re getting a little ahead of yourself.” As we exit the school doors, I remember another cool thing about Claire, she has a car.
“Are you sure you want to take your bike?” I know she is trying to be nice, but I can’t tell her the real reason I prefer my bike. Since we live in a small town, it’s an easy way to get around without busting my allowance. I could get a job, but then I would have to work, and since my Uncle isn’t making me, I’m not going to bring it up.
“It’s okay, I’ll see you soon.” We wave each other off, and I make my way to the bike rack.
I don’t tell anyone, but I secretly love riding my bike. Even though it sucks not having a car, in moments like this I don’t care. I speed down a hill and the wind feels cool in the final hot days of summer. The sun is bright, and the sky is clear; it feels like a crime that I’m heading somewhere to spend the next two hours inside.
I ride up to the front of the hospital and don’t see my classmates. As I park my bike, I see a middle-aged man coming out the front door, he has his arm around a middle-aged woman as she cries. My gut tells me they are husband and wife. As they pass by, he looks over at me, his eyes are distant and lifeless. I feel my heart drop and hope that doing this will not worsen my day. I sigh, lock my bike at the bike rack, and head inside.
I’ve never been to the hospital for anything, so I wasn’t expecting the bright sunlight streaming through large windows that reach from the floor to the ceiling. People are carrying children, holding balloons, talking to doctors and nurses. I feel my spirits lift when I hear someone laughing. I let my gaze move over to the waiting area right next to the large windows. A man is snoozing in a chair, directly in the sunlight, and next to him are my classmates. I find Claire right away. As I approach her, she laughs at something someone said. She’s everything that I wish I were: confident, pretty, and outgoing.
Our teacher divides us into groups. I’m disappointed that I’m not in the same group as Claire, but of course, she knows everyone in her group. My group lacked the necessary materials, and they voted for me to get them. All I had to do was walk to the other side of the building to get what we needed.
I pass a few people on my way, and then I smell the coffee before seeing the coffee shop. Of course, every hospital has one. But surprisingly, there weren’t very many people around. I read the signs above me and see I need to go straight. But before I can take another step…
“You look lost,” comes a soothing voice. I whip my head around. A senior woman is sitting at a small table.
“No, I’m fine, thanks,” I wave her off and turn around to continue on my way.
“No, you’re heading in the wrong direction,” she continues. I feel my eyebrows draw together in irritation, but I smooth them out with my fingers before I turn around. She is smiling, looking at me over the rim of her coffee mug.
“Thank you, but I know exactly where I’m going.” I didn’t mean for it to come out harsh. She puts her cup down, and her kind smile doesn’t leave her face. What a strange woman. I ignore her this time and carry on.
“When you realize you’re lost, take a left.” She tells me.