Perfectly Imperfect

Veinticinco: Stranded

  It's been a few days since I was cleared to venture on excruciatingly slow walks.

  My arm with the fractured collarbone spends most of its time resting in a sling that is super comfortable and goes with all my outfits spectacularly. The washed out blue color that's highlighted with brown and yellow stains all over it, really makes my green eyes pop as well.

I'm technically not aloud to run, jump, walk fast—Basically, I'm not allowed to do anything fun, but hey, things could be worse, right?

I could be the type to actually FOLLOW rules.

Good thing I'm not.

Running is relaxing, and pain never really stopped me from doing it before. Now's not going to be much different. Although, I'm not too fond of having the central part of my body receive a spike of pain every time I move too suddenly, so I'm willing to take it easy...to an extent.

I'm currently speed walking—like the savage I am—admiring the purity of all the plants and flowers around me. It's all so relaxing. The early fall wind's whisking through the leaves of the trees, making the beautiful, towering monstrosities sway in a calming sort of rhythm.

Everything here looks and feels so peaceful. I feel sort of out of place, almost like I'm intruding. Bringing my chaotic mind and life, into their serene domain.

I kept walking, listening to the leaves cracking under my feet when I heard an almost caveman like yell, followed by—"What is wrong with this thing!"

Yep, peaceful and serene.

  I followed the voice, and found the clearing we left the bus in. Coach and some other PTA member were nearly pulling out their hair in frustration.

Especially coach Brown.

I scanned the area to see what the commotion was about. My eyes landed on the hood of the bus, or more particularly, the cloud of smoke rising out of it.

"Relax, it's not that big of a deal," I heard the PTA member try to soothe Coach.

"It is a big deal! How else do you think we're going to get out of this he!! hole?!" He shot back.

  He's got a point.

  "We'll figure something out," The PTA member reasoned.

  "What do you suggest?!" Coach barked. "The phones aren't working, and we don't have any other form of transportation."

  The phones aren't working? since when?

  Well, that's not good.

  . . . And, now I'm stating the obvious.

  As if on cue, the PTA member piped up. "Since when is there no reception?"

  "Last night. We don't know what happened," Coach informed him.

Great.

I took another step forward and all the leaves and twigs crunched under my foot. It got the attention of the two, and they turned to look in my direction. "Oh, um, Camren," Coach said. "Aren't you supposed to be lying down or something?"

  "It's Carmen, and-"

  He cut me off. "Why are you even this far out?"

  Um.

  "I got lost," I told them.

  It's not that far from the truth. I really didn't realize I was this far out.