Finding Home

Ash

    It was always clear I was the outsider. For starters, I was never in family photos. If someone happened to stumble upon my house it'd be easy to mistake me for someone renting out a room, rather than my mother's son and my sisters half brother. For as long back as I can remember I've always been pushed to the side. I don't mind though.

    For one, I'd look awkwardly placed in a family photo. Two, I don't look good in pictures anyway, my smile looks super uncomfortable and one eye scrunches up a bit more than the other, which I mean is a stupid thing to worry about, I don't know why I would even worry about that in the first place, my glasses would glare too much for a good photo to show my eyes anyway. I mean, of course, they do. That's what glasses do.

    I shake my head, in a futile attempt to clear the thoughts racing in my mind.

    Alayna says I worry too much. I mean I probably do. Scratch that, I definitely do. If I wasn't worrying right now, I would have already been at my locker and in class, not staring at the front of the school building, like a maniac.

    Wow. I'm starting sophomore year staring at the school like a madman. That's probably why no one has talked to me yet, they think I'm crazy. Of course, they think I'm crazy, sane people don't stare at schools for twenty minutes.

    My phone buzzes, jarring me back to the present and the roar of students around me. I fish through my pocket for it and pull it out.

    It's Alayna.

    Where are you???

    I've been waiting in the cafeteria for fifteen minutes

    Ash, istg get your British Butt over her before I kick it.

    I spend a lazy moment, allowing myself to briefly get lost in the movement of foot traffic, before responding.

    I'm coming.

    Give me a minute.

    Don't worry.

    I shove the phone back in my pocket and take a final breath before taking a step up the staircase to the front of the school.

    My few seconds of peace are short-lived as a flurry of light brown curly hair knocks me over.

    My glasses fly off my face and the world loses its focus.

    My backpack softens my fall, but I'm sure my books took some damage.

    Despite the fall being nothing, my heart starts racing, panic starting to work its way through my veins and to my bones and heart. I want to see, I don't care if there are people staring at the random kid who just fell. I need to get my glasses back on.

    I close my eyes briefly to block out the light.

    I can't deal with this right now. Not today. There is no way I'm going to have a panic attack before the first day of school even starts. This is what always happens, I should have just stayed home, which would have just as dumb because I'd get yelled at, plus I promised I'd make today great, but at least I wouldn't be embarrassing myself and—

    I open my eyes and I can see the vague shape of a hand in front of me, offering to help me up.

    I take it, his hands are soft and warm, I can feel the phantom of a writers bump on his thumb. I'm about to thank him but then I realize he's rambling on, "God, I am so sorry, I'm really stupid, man, uh sh*t, I'll pay for your bottle."

    I look down at the thermos in my hand, I can't see it clearly without my glasses but I can tell I must have busted the lid in the fall. I mean what else does it mean when I tip it sideways and tea spills out.

    I shake my head and take a deep breath, "It's fine..." I look around, panic starting to surface when my brain, once again, decides it has to repanic about the lack of clear vision. "I- uh... I need my glasses though."

    I can't see him very well but by the long pause and the vague colors, I can tell he's gawking at me, I can only imagine it's because I've made a fool of myself. It feels like hours before he gasps and starts talking again, "Oh god right, I'm so sorry, wow, way to screw up the first day." He bends down and grabs my glasses. "Wow, these carry a pretty hefty prescription, don't they." I nod a little but stay quiet, because, duh it's a hefty prescription. My eyes are dumb, and, what am I even supposed to respond with?

    He rubs off the lenses with his shirt, hands them to me and runs off muttering something like, "...I'm so late... She's gonna kill me..." before running off.

    I put the glasses on and look off to see who the kid was, to thank him for helping me up, but he's lost in the crowd.

    I'm certain of something though: I've got to find that boy.