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High School

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My alarm rings obnoxiously, and I wake up to my first day of high school tired and irritable. Seriously, people are excited for this? The next four years are going to be torture. Prom. Help me. Calculus. Ugh. SATs and ACTs. No thank you. Applying to college. Do I have to? Navigating the social world of High School. I think I'll pass.
Middle school was a train wreck, but honestly? High school will be ten times worse. I glance in the mirror at my pale, pasty, tan-less face, peppered with zits. My hair looks like I've been struck by lightening. Nevertheless, I commence brushing my hair, straightening it, and making my face somewhat presentable.
Tugging on a pair of most likely too small jeans, I trip over a pile of dirty clothes. I use every expletive I have ever heard, and finish getting dressed. The mirror glares back at my face, with a reflection that should suffice. I chuck all the books and binders and school supplies I need for this dreaded year into my backpack.
My backpack is so heavy! I swear, by the end of this year, I'm going to have a severely messed up back. I trudge downstairs, to a breakfast that seems nearly in edible. Frozen waffle that my mother popped in the toaster for me. Yum. Not.
I quickly choke down the rest of my less-than palatable breakfast, as I hear the bus horn honk. Great mode of transportation, right? Rushing out the door, I trip and nearly fall again, commence cursing rant #2 of the morning.
The bus is gross, smelly, and makes my disgusting breakfast want to make a reappearance. I get on the nasty vehicle and find my friend Lily. She motions for me to sit next to her. I comply, glancing around the bus. How has your morning been so far? She asks sarcastically. I laugh. Oh, it's just been swell. First, I woke up looking disgusting, then I nearly broke my face tripping on a pile of clothes, after that, I ate a nasty waffle my mother had the nerve to throw in the toaster for me, and now I'm here. Going to high school. Just kill me now. I rant to my friend pessimistically.
Lily laughs, don't worry, Kate. You just have 4 more years of this. I groan and submit to High School. If you think space is the final frontier, think again. High school is.




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