𝙇 𝙄 𝘽 𝙀 𝙍 𝘼𝙏 𝙀 𝘿

4 L I B E R A T E D 4

4 V 4

The next day, I slid out of my bed and slammed my head on the bed frame.

"Von!" someone shouted from downstairs.

I held the back of my head, whimpering.

"Von!"

My bedroom door busted open and my mother and father ran in. "The hell happened? I thought you bust yo head op- Oh," my father ran to my side. "Are you bleeding?"

"I don't think so, but it hurts real bad. I was getting outta bed and my foot got caught on something and I fell," I said, still clutching the aching part of my head.

"Girl, you got school today. You can't be losing no brain cells," my mother said, crouching down to examine my head. "Ima bring you some ice and some pain killers. If you don't start to feel better, I'm not letting you go to school. You could have a concussion," she stated.

"Ughh," my parents helped me up together, sitting me on my bed. My mother went off to get what she had said, leaving my dad to peer through my bonnet to get a better look at my head. "I mean, I woke up thinking about the good day I was finna have. I was gonna try and be more social. Enjoy school. And then this is what happens," I complained.

"You might still be able to go if you're okay," my dad gently reminded me. "But if you feel any discomfort, call me. Or your mother."

My dad looked at me like I was his baby all over again. That's one thing I could say about him: It's like everyday he had with me, he cherished it. I'm not saying that my mother wasn't the same way, but he just seemed to have always kept that "new parent" look on his face. I was forever his joy.

My mother came back in, her arms loaded with the jumbo first aid kit that I remember always rested at the top of their closest. As a kid, I wasn't outdoors-y much, and that shows. The first aid kit's barely been touched after all. I don't have the faded ant bites, the scabbed elbows and knees, or the overrated allergies to show that I had an adventurous childhood. I was always the loner, the kid who preferred to draw during recess or maybe even paint if Ms. Smith let me.

Even now, I barely talk to anyone at school. I go there for my schoolwork and that's about it. I don't even know what my classmates think about me. Maybe they think I believe I'm too good to hang with them, or maybe they believe that I'm lame as hell. But I truly do want to make more friends and learn more things about people (especially my people), and today I had already wrapped my mind around being more social at school.

Who would have known I'd wake up to wrap my head damn near around a metal bed frame?

"Wash up, and take things easy. If you're not feeling better by the time you're all cleaned up, then you're staying home," my mother ordered. Shit, you don't have to tell me twice. I might want to start a new beginning as far as my junior year social life, but I also don't want to do that quiz that we have today.

"Okay," I winced in pain.

My parents left my room, and I shakily stood up. The pills should kick in any moment now. Hopefully I'll be feeling better sooner rather than later. I got my clothes out for school: a black Avenger's t shirt, some hole-y jeans, and my black Croc's.

After I got myself together for the day, I was putting on my socks when I slowly started to realize I was feeling better. Good. Now I can go and reclaim my social life. Admittedly, I'm a bit hesitant. I mean, in all honesty, how often is it that you make friends other than at the beginning of the school year?