If I Fell

Chapter One

Why did people insist on acting incessantly cheerful in the mornings? Well, more like they find the days I’d prefer to have a crabby morning and decide I’m being completely unreasonable.

Yet, I believed that, at least one day a week, I should be guaranteed a cranky morning.

Was that too much to ask?

One morning where I was allowed to be as grumpy as I wanted and not be questioned or subject to little sayings like “did you wake up on the wrong side of the bed?”

However it apparently did not matter what I believed I should be allowed, because my friends and family did not agree. I’d been awakened by a bright mother who had been dancing around the kitchen, and let’s just say she was not a skilled dancer. Well, to be honest, it was more of a shuffle opposed to actually dancing. Then I’d picked up one of my friends on the way to school.

Marcy was hopping up and down in the passenger’s seat, her mouth was moving to a song blasting through the radio, but I was trying my best to not hear anything. It seemed even the radio stations were conspiring against me.

Yawning loudly, I rubbed the back of my hand against my forehead, still holding the disposable cup that contained tea in said hand. The other one holding the steering wheel, although I was seriously considering just letting it go.

At least then it would be quiet. A lack of this plague of merriment would be a plus too.

Hearing the beat fade out, I perked up ever so slightly; maybe the morning show would start up again. But a groan only ripped through my tightly pressed together lips when a new – yet very familiar – beat began thumping through the speakers.

Unable to stop myself, I plopped the tea into the cup holder and quickly flipped the switch on the radio, plunging the car into silence.

Giving a sigh of relief, my shoulders slumped as I looked back onto the road. It was a pretty morning – even if I wasn’t in the best mood – as I found most mornings in the autumn were, the soft fall sun flickering through shaded leaves from the trees. The light shining down through the trees wasn’t harsh, allowing me to drive without the need of sunglasses towards the customary path to school.

But that short silence that I was still very appreciative of was ruined when a confused looking Marcy piped up. With her pretty amber eyes bewildered beneath her furrowed brow, she asked, “Why did you turn it off?”

Shaking my head ever so slightly, I took the time to sip at the tea as I pulled the car effortlessly through a turn, my foot pressing ever so slightly on the brake as we bumped up into the parking lot. “We’ve heard that song about a billion times,” I answered, spinning the wheel around on my palm as I pulled to a halt in a spot.

Marcy fixed me with an incredulous look before smoothing her hair down in the mirror. “Allison, that song was released yesterday.”

“Doesn’t mean a thing,” I replied easily as I twisted the keys from the ignition. “Everything sounds the same.”

She rolled her eyes while grabbing her binders from the backseat while I was already grabbing the tan side bag from the back and shoving out of the door. But I caught her words before I slammed the door shut behind me, “I think you might be the only teenager in the world that doesn’t like music.”

Shrugging at her over the hood of the car, I slipped the bag comfortably over my shoulder, the books weighing down my body slightly to the side. “There always has to be someone that’s a bit different,” she replied.

“You sound like a school teacher,” simpered Marcy, turning on her heels and walking to the front of the school.

Hurrying forwards so I was in step with her as her heels clicked across the pavement, I tucked a loose curl behind my ear absentmindedly. Wasn’t it supposed to be a good thing to be different? I couldn’t help but ponder the fact as I walked beside the girl, if history taught us anything; it’s that visionaries are different.