Secrets of Adeline (Book 2)

Chapter 18: School

     Summer passed quickly, days feeling shorter, minutes passing faster. Soon, it was the last day of summer. The days before, weren't too interesting. After the plane crash, I recovered just like any other human being and eventually picked back up with the pace of things. Days went by, each second spent either A.) preparing for school, B.) being locked up in my room, blaring music to block out my irrational thinking skills, C.) randomly sitting in the Swansville library, reading backs of books I never intended to open, or D.) spending time with friends, A.K.A everyone who went to New York with me, my only friends who actually cared what I did with my summers. My real friends. And that's what my summer consisted of.

     Now, it was the day before the first day of school and I was packing my book bag with textbooks and other trinkets I was dreading to use for the next hundred and some days I would waste of my short life at an entirely boring place called school.

     In all reality, everyone knows: high school, simply sucks. Donkey balls. Intimately, throughout the summer, nothing interesting sparked between Jake and I. In fact, I avoided him entirely. Kat said it was my way of avoiding my problems but I said it was my mature way of handling things, although I knew it wasn't very mature for someone like me. Jake hadn't tried to contact me so it made it all the more easier to simply pretend he didn't exist, despite me randomly and unfortunately running into him every now and then. We'd exchange awkward half smiles and then hurry off back to our basic lives, or at least what I gathered was that his life was as basic as mine.

     Throughout the past four months, I hadn't found any need to set an alarm, I slept until I pleased. Now, I had no choice but to wake up before sunrise and tiresomely drag my lifeless self around my silent home every morning before school, clumsily getting ready to meet expectations of others even though I could care less what people think of me. Barf.

      The thing I dreaded most about school was this: visual confrontation. No way in hell would I be happy to acknowledge Jake's presence but to my luck, I'd probably get stuck being his parter or sitting next to him in three quarters of my classes. "Yay."

     I wasn't particularly enthusiastic about socializing myself with people, I'd rather stick to my small group of friends rather than fake a smile and slap on a fake identity to please the others around me. God knows, everyone at school pretends to be someone their not, making us all what you would call, "fake."

     You see, at school you have to pretend to be happy or enthusiastic about things to avoid people asking you, "hey, are you okay? You look sad. Are you sick? Are you depressed?" , more as at home, you could be yourself. You can lounge around in your room in a t-shirt and underwear, reading a book and being openly depressing and boring. Being alone, there's no one there to ask you if your okay, forcing you to create an answer.

     So here I was, laying in bed as I stare at my darkened ceiling, waiting for the hours to pass by and my alarm to sound, forcing me to get ready for school. I fell asleep quickly, morning coming fast. My alarm sounds, breaking my slumber. I literally roll out of bed, moaning under my breath about how much I don't want to be awake at that time of day. I slip out of my pajamas and into a plain white t-shirt and high-waisted light blue skinny jeans, completing the look with a white pair of vans. And if you dare think, "damn, Daniel!" I'm going to barf all over you because that's just now how I work.

I yank my hair into two French braids and tie them off with little black rubber bands that blend in with my now darkening hair. It grows darker as I get older. My skin once pale, is now a more olive-like color due to the many hours I spent in the sun over the summer. That was a plus. I didn't have to look albino throughout the entire year. If you didn't know, I am a lot of Indian, more than how German I am, which I am very proud of, though in the winters, you wouldn't believe me if I told you. I was born with darkened skin and jet black hair which faded with time. I got it from my great grandfather, whom of which died before I really got to know him when I was at the young age of seven. Some luck, huh? At least my baby fat rolls faded too, leaving me with a less marshmallow-like form. Not that I thought my form was great or anything, it was much better than my childhood years.