𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐌𝐄

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴏɴᴇ: Delayed Mondays

DEET

Have you ever woke up and just wanted to become one with your bed so you didn't have to do anything that day? That's how today felt.
The moment my heavy eyelids opened, I had closed them at once.
Today was a day I liked to call a delayed Monday— considering my Mondays were usually quite enjoyable.

The skies were overcast, a light grey blanketing it, taking away the baby blue hue. I walked down the street, my gaze focused on the ground underneath my feet until I reached the Main Street, where busy people waited and walked along the crosswalk. Pressing the button, I awaited my turn to cross the street, just as a car flew by, driving through the large puddle at the edge of the road and splashing me with the murky water.

It took awhile for me to get over the shock of it. I don't think the person meant to do that to me, but they made my day rough for me. It's not like my classmates would listen to the reason I smell like mud and sewage, nor would they help me.

High school no matter what is tough, but when you're in the city— especially a big city like Los Angeles— it's all the more tougher. In a school of somebody's, being a nobody was a big deal. Most of my school is full of children of legacies: sons and daughters of pop artists, rockstars, actors, and actresses whom have settled down. Those who don't come from legends are still legends nonetheless: they're Tik Tok and Instagram stars, prom queens, jocks, and cheerleaders.
The remaining of us, which is a small group of people, are misfits. We are broken outcasts, loners against our own will— people with strange minds that can't be comprehended by those who belong. We are jagged pieces that don't fit the puzzle. So, in order to fit, they find trouble, try to build up a cool reputation.

That's why I'm so weird.
I don't strive to look good to my peer's eyes. I strive far, far away from the rumors and the drama. That's why every day I'm in something similar to the outfit I've got on now: a dark hoodie to cover some tacky shirt I wore to bed, pajama pants I'm pretending are sweatpants, a small shoulder-strap bag, and my signature black and gray beanie that hides my black knotty hair that I've brushed three times now. To make sure I don't stand out just to be a somebody to target, to toy with.
When someone says something snarky to me, I don't answer, even when they're expecting a response. Even when they'll pester me until I do respond.

If I do respond, it's not an answer they expect, though it'll still feed their ego either way.
I usually turn coldly to them, as if their words hadn't even gotten through my hardened shell, and I say in a monotone voice, Fuck off. Then I just walk off without another word, leaving them starved for more reactions.

Even though I handle being taunted well, I never really have the energy for it, and the words do get to me, haunting me in the middle of the night. So, when I got soaked by the puddle water, it made sense I was nowhere near happy.
It only gets worse from here.

The scents of lavender perfume, cheap cologne, and body odor overwhelmed my nostrils, making me feel as though I was going to pass out right then and there in my seat. All kinds of business men and women crowded the subway, though there were some like me who were heading to school— mainly coming from the Pine Grove Apartments, just like me.
The subway blurred through the tunnels, rocking on its wheels. For a moment I felt as though it was going to tip over, but taking deep breaths and distracting myself by scrolling on the media made the anxiety go away. For a little while, anyway.

Beside me came the worst wave of odor in the entire subway. I think you could smell him from a mile away. And he was leaning towards me, mouth wide open and gray eyes distant as they were fixed on my screen.