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In my mom's shoes, or rather in her bob
I slipped quietly into my mother, Barb's room, having to dance around the clutter so I didn't wake anyone up. When the dresser came within reach I quickly grabbed a hold of the copper handle and pulled open the mahogany drawer. I brushed quietly through the jungle of jewelry and hair ties until my eyes rested on a small scarlet book. There was nothing special about the book itself, red, with rough calligraphy on the lined pages and a black elastic strap to keep it shut, hidden from any wandering eyes. But still, it was what I had come for.
Hurriedly I hopped out of mom's room, closing the door behind me, and inched through the hall to my pink room. Plopping down on my bed I looked at the item in my hand. My Mom's diary. At times, when I couldn't sleep, I would creep down to my Mother's room and read some of her diary. It was just a little tradition of mine. And I had always thought, knowing what my mother was like when she was younger was really interesting. So I pulled back the elastic strap and opened the book, flipping the pages until I reached a page I hadn't read yet. Interestedly, I began to read.
Dear Diary… I stopped reading and looked around as I felt my chest tighten. Suddenly, something changed that was unlike anything that had ever happened before and I was taken back in time in a swirling vortex of colors and thoughts. It was a place where, time was only a thought and you could go anywhere or do anything, and all you had to do was act upon it. A world where things have no physical embodiment and the ground melts with the sky, like a painting left out in the rain. I was pushed through in a current of ideas until abruptly it stopped and I was thrust forward into a world that was not my own.
I throw on a grey, low thigh length, sweater and some black leggings, completing the ensemble with a large chain belt. Appraising the clothes in my mirror, I choose a deeper black for the color of the leggings and make the proper adjustments. I sprint lightly to the bathroom, in hopes of getting there before my sister, Nancy. Sadly though, she got there first. "No, Nancy, Get out of there!" I whine. My goodness she annoys me, she just doesn't get that other people need time in the bathroom too. She spends at least an hour in there every day, not including the shower.
"Stop Barbie. Nobody likes a whiner, and anyway I need it more." I growl angrily and slump downstairs to wait for the bathroom. About thirty minutes later I hear the creak of our bathroom door and rush upstairs, slipping through the bathroom door before she even has a chance to finish opening it.
As quickly as I can I comb through my bob and curl back my bangs, giving my hair a look of volume. After finishing the everyday necessities: brushing my teeth, going to the bathroom, putting on deodorant, etc… I pile into the car with my sister and my brother, Lonnie, and we drive to school. New London school is a combined school, all of the grades combined into one, not that large building. But really, that's to be expected, because New London is a, not that large town. I dash to my first period, History with Mr. Gainock, and plop down into a seat next to my friend, Kim Odelle. She looks at me and giggles, pointing a slender finger towards the source of her laughter.
I can't help but laugh to as my eyes take in the sight. The red and white folds of sparkling cloth are reflecting the fluorescent light from above and the way his lip is curled back just increases our giggles. His hair is slicked back in a well known hairdo, completing the outfit. Mr. Gainock is wearing his Elvis costume to school again. He actually has worn this suit on a few other occasions and doesn't really care that it's not really appropriate teacher attire, and he always looks really stupid.
I giggle some more, turning to my friend. "I can't believe he wore that again, he's so weird, it doesn't even look good on him, actually it looks awful." I rant. Around the word good Kim's eyes grow really large and she begins to make small "stop talking" movements with her hands. But when I do realize, the damage is already done. I turn around slowly and find that Mr. Gainock is standing right behind me, giving me the stink eye, which means that he probably heard the whole thing. I give him an apologetic look and try to hide my face the rest of the period.
Next I rush to algebra, then science. Finally it is time for art! I dart to a good, not wobbly stool and take my clay pot off the drying shelf. Mr. Miller enters and I can see he is in a bad mood today, worse than normal, so I had better stay off his bad side. The rest of the class shuffles in and, also seeing that he is in a bad mood, begin on their clay. I gaze at the boy across from me, David Rodgers, and sigh. A burst of his musky cologne wafts up my nose, filling the air around me with a heavenly scent. His medium length, straight brown hair hangs in just the right way to cover his eyes ruggedly making him seem even more gorgeous. I just glance at his mustache and then avert my attention to his hands. They work the clay so gracefully and skillfully even though I know he's most likely thinking about drugs, or girls.
My concentration breaks as I hear a boy mumble behind me. "Speak up child, mumbling is not permitted in this class, and it's not the way to get what you want." Mr. Miller chastises. The boy clears his throat and begins again.
"C-can I g-go to the b-bathroom, p-p-p-please?" The boy stutters. Mr. Miller's face grows annoyed and the boy knows the answer before he even says it.
"No! Finish your project and stop mumbling!" He orders.
"Please sir!" the boy begs, jumping up from his seat with pleading eyes.
"No!" Just then, at the boy's feet the color of the ground grows darker, and so does the upper section of his pants. A puddle soon forms around him and the class giggles. It's been a while since somebody peed their pants. The boy's face grows red and he darts out of the room. Just a few minutes later the bell rings and I go to choir, where I am an alto, and practice new songs for the winter concert. Then I have band and review songs on my clarinet all period. Finally its lunchtime and I scarf down my packed sandwich so I can talk to my friends.
English class is next, my favorite subject, even though we are working on grammar right now, which isn't my favorite topic. School is over before I know it and I find myself crunching through the browns and reds of the autumn leaves to the car. A warm wind caresses my cheeks and ruffles my hair as I open the old car door and duck into my seat. As Nancy drives off I lean back my head and start recuperating so I might survive the next day of school at New London.
Suddenly I found myself thrust back into the vortex of time and thought, and quicker than lightning, I was back in my bedroom, diary in hand. I snuck back into my mother's room and replaced the diary. Returning to my room I thought TS4Was I my mother back there? I shrugged and let it sit in my head for a minute, shrinking into my blankets I covered up and went to sleep forgetting all about the events that just occurred and preparing to confront my future.