Not All Answers Are Found in Book...

Breakdown

Worthless! Unappreciative! Pig!!!

My mother's painful insults replay in my mind as I sit next to my best friend on the bus on my way to high school.

If I could just get rid of you-kill you- with no consequence! I wish I could oh how I wish!!!!

Tears threaten to spill over my eyelashes, ruining my perfect mascara. No one has noticed, and I dread the moment someone does. I'm too close to the breaking point. Just one "are you ok?" And my entire reputation goes to shit. I may be just a 16-year-old sophomore, but I've built a solid "bitch with an attitude" image that I DIDNT want to fuck up, and although that seemed like the least important thing at the moment, I was desperately trying to hang on to the *normal* life I had built up outside of my home.

As if on purpose, to prove that any day can, in fact, get worse, half-way to Madison High the bus breaks down, leaving all 40 of us stranded in the middle of the busiest street in the city.

Frustration pushes me closer to the edge of a total breakdown. Quickly getting up from my seat, I shimmy down the aisle towards the exit in my 5inch heel, spiked ankle boots. Once I get to the front of the school bus, I notice that Sarah, my best friend of 5 years, has wordlessly followed me, and was now waiting by my side for the driver to open the door. She always has been concerned about me, and now, her deep dark chocolate brown eyes were watching me, filled with worry. Small strands of her purple ombre hair had escaped the loose bowtie clip and were gently lying on her cheek, begging me to fix them. Sarah had never been overly thoughtfull about her hair, no that was me, she was more of a nailart type of gal. Our styles havent really coresponded either. Her, with bright colors and floral patterned skirts and dresses, versus me, who prefered spikes and leather skinny jeans and jackets. From first glance someone would have a hard time believing we were lifelong best friends, but spend 5 minutes with us, and you'd instantly understand why. Our specific type of humor was like our sense of personal space, nonexistant. On a good day, we laughed at everything and anything... AND invaded each others personal space without break (even now, she was standing about 6 inches closer than neccessary). Yep, we definitely took the phrase "Mi casa, es su casa" to a whole new level. But being friends for this long has also caused us to develop a type of habit. When one of us is sad, or sick, the other one is too... We dont know why, but so far, we havent been able to break the spell.

Glancing towards us, the old cowboy looking idiot seemed about to protest, but as I shoot him a glare that, if looks could kill, would have decapitated him, he reluctantly pulls the lever, letting us off the giant yellow contraption and into the early morning air. It was mid October, so the temperature was still pretty cool, compared to later in the day when the sun would rise to its full potential. Quickly, I begin my treck to God-knows-where and hear Sarah hot on my heel.

"I'm not going back." I say, the tears brimming my eyes forgotten for a minute.

"I know" she replies, obviously determined to make sure I don't do anything too stupid.

After about 30 minutes of just aimlessly wandering around and thinking of anything that would prevent a waterfall from erupting from my eyes, we end up at our old Junior High, and, although I hated those years of my life, I walk straight into the building. I know exactly where I'm headed as I walk down the empty halls that will be overflowing with pre-pubescent monsters as soon as the bell ending 1st period rings. Its amazing how different everything seems after only a couple years of being gone. The school seems to have shrunk, and I cant believe that just 2 years ago I was as small as the few wandering munchkins that we see in the halls

Despite it feeling completely different, the halls and classrooms all look the same. I round the last corner and my eyes land on the closed door that holds years of hilarious memories, and I silently pray that he's still there. Walking closer, I reach out to grab the silver handle, but hesitate. What if he has a class? I look over at Sarah, she looks back expectantly.