don't you go // lrh

/twenty one/

/L.A/

/amara/

I jumped out of my chair a millisecond before the final bell of the day rang. I can't wait any longer, I might explode if I try. I didn't even notice when that loud shrill finally did come. I damn near knocked the desk over.

I don't walk to the locker room to change into normal clothes so I didn't have to go home like every Friday of my junior year.

I don't walk to the alley next to the school for a smoke and a bit of reading, I race for the student parking lot.

No, scratch that, I sprint.

When the double doors at the top of the stone steps shut behind me, that's it, I'm totally free of high school forever.

Every time I've puked in the bathroom, smoked in the girls locker room, or smoked behind the soccer field during practice when I'm supposed to be running, all the times I skipped lunch, every bad memory is released from my body the second I get outside.

I never have to be forcibly reminded of all of that nightmare material every time I turn a corner in the hall.

I stuff my school bag into the trunk with a smile on my face, good riddance. It'll stay here for weeks for all I care.

Maddie and Jesse are already actively texting the group chat. They're filling me in, letting me know that Maddie ditched her last class of the day. School just started and she's already trying to break her record of most classes missed. She tops herself every year.

Maddie decided to take the train over to Jesse's school, to wait for her to get out. And they'd wait together for me, it'll save us time we desperately need.

And with that extra time, I stopped by the cafe to grab some very much needed caffeine for us. Three green tea's with extra lemon, extra large. I stopped by the liquor store down the street too, for flamin' hot Cheetos and a fresh pack of cigarettes.

Running on cheetos and smoke is way better than running on nothing at all.

Cherry Bomb by The Runaways came through the speakers right when I turned onto the school's street. Perfectly timed. So I crank the volume up almost all the way.

I spot them from down the block, loose socks, woven sweaters around their waists, sharing a cigarette and craning their necks, searching for me to pull up.

It's not my finest hit on the breaks, the tires screech and everything. But I don't care today. And it gets their attention along with my slamming on the horn.

"Get in bitches!" I exclaim, joining them when they begin to sing, mostly for show for Maddie's iPhone camera.

Maddie hands the cigarette to Jesse, who takes one final drag before finishing it off and tossing it onto the church steps.

"Ah! Finally!" Maddie says, hopping into the passenger.

"You, are a doll." Jesse says, peaking through the back seat to give me a big kiss on the cheek, and taking her green tea.

And just for laughs, we put on silk scarves and sunglasses, like we were women scorned and on the run from our husbands.

"Can someone call the boys?" I ask, "We need to be at the airport together."

It's crucial to the plan.

Part of the deal about 'Miami' is proof. A photo together at the airport should be enough. I really doubt any of our parents are capable of checking in more than once.