no control

• ten •

gladys

My favorite day. Friday. It's literally the best. Just a few hours of torture at school and then freedom for a whole two days.

Should I change my name to Friday? You know, like Wednesday Addams? Maybe then I'd be a little baddie like her.

"Friday Wilder," I tested aloud, giggling and then cringing as I realized it didn't have quite the same ring to it.

I shrugged to myself. I'm probably too old to change my name anyway.

A heavy sigh left my lungs. My footsteps felt painfully slow. I tried to calculate how far I still had to go before reaching kid prison.

Way too long, that's for sure.

Restless fatigue settled over me like a blanket. The fog in my brain was definitely not helping make this trek go by any faster.

Are those people looking at me?

I suspiciously narrowed my eyes on a couple piling into a car across the street.

Nah, just minding their business.

Groaning, I dragged my feet onward. My eyes were fixed on the sidewalk that weaved around several more driveways before meeting head-on with the busier public road.

I took a deep breath in an effort to spurn myself into a faster pace. It felt like I was just a slug, inching forward as fast as my lone slimy foot could manage.

Fuck, why did I smoke before school?

Once I reached the intersection of the roads, I decided to plug my earbuds in, assuming that may make this situation more bearable. I scrolled through the music app on my phone to find a decent playlist.

Normally I jammed to Selena while I walked, but I wanted something different today. Remembering an artist that Bernice had recently put me on, I looked up Mac DeMarco and played the song that had been trapped in my head lately. Each step became slightly more bearable.

Honey, the stars keep on calling my name
But don't worry, I've told you again and again

I finally turned onto the Main Street and started towards school.

When I'm down, you're always the first one to know
Skipping town, I'll take you wherever I go

By happenstance, my gaze cast over the 7/11 in passing. There, at pump six, idled a blacked-out Cadillac. Morning exhaust puffed out of the car's double matte black mufflers.

"I wonder who that could be," I murmured to myself, my lip curling into a half-smirk. I looked forward and kept walking.

Honey, this town's really taking its toll

After a few seconds, the sound of an approaching car quieted, like it was slowing down. I glanced over to see the Cadillac cruising beside me from across the road. The driver's window silently slid down.

Plucking out an ear bud, I focused on finding the familiar face in the darkness of the car. The heavily tinted windows made it even harder to see with the overcast sky. My eyes adjusted after a second, though, and the sight of him sent my heart into premature cardiac arrest.

Elijah's dark hair was loose and tousled, a bit wet like he'd just jumped out of the shower. His impenetrable eyes were concealed by a pair of reflective aviators. The planes of his tanned skin seemed especially angular and sharp today.

"Good morning, Angel."

"Hi, Elijah," I greeted, swallowing this strange type of anxiety down my throat.