A story yet to be named.

    You wake up early. But not too early. You sit there before your alarm goes off writing books in your head because theres really no reason to go back to bed. Its 5:53 in the morning and you always get up at 6:00. You never wake up more than an hour after 1:00AM because you normally go to bed at 12:00 and at times you can be a pretty deep sleeper.
    You roll over and hope your alarm isn’t going to go off yet because you’re getting sleepier by the minute. You fight to keep your eyes open, eventually giving up and going to put your glasses on. You brush out your long brown hair. stick straight. You put in your contacts, one in each of your green eyes. You squirt a little dot of face wash into your hand after you dampen your face. Rubbing the rich soap evenly about your face, then splashing water to clean it off. As it washes down the drain, you rummage in the drawers beneath your sink and pull out a thick purple tube of black mascara. You put it on in a very thin layer. Careful not to make it clump. You dust the slightest bit of makeup on your cheeks to make your cheekbones stand out. You grab your toothbrush out of the small cup you made in kindergarten with your name on it in almost illegible handwriting. You can barely make out the letters that spell Tara plastered in red paint, with pink and green flowers moving onward along the otherwise white porcelain cup. You brush your finally braces-less teeth and spit out the toothpaste that you didn’t accidentally swallow in the process of brushing your teeth to be shiny and white.
    You walk back into your bedroom, pulling out a crisply washed lilac T-shirt and a pair of light blue jeans with rips up and down each leg. You slip into both articles of clothing and grab your math notebook and calculator sitting on the table next to your door. You go back into the bathroom to grab the new tube of chapstick you got for your fourteenth birthday and shove it into your pocket so you’ll have it for the rest of the long day. You grab the half of a bagel that your sister Zini left for you on her way to high school. You debate on screaming goodbye to mom. Deciding against it, you walk through Jonahs organized kitchen and grab a lukewarm water bottle from the carton full by the back door.
You bear down the flight of stairs stepping on each one with ease, and drop your math materials at the bottom next to your black and green backpack and slip the water bottle into the side pocket. You grab your hunter green mud crusted high-top converse and  sit at the bottom of the steps putting them both on delicately, because your mom said that if you ruin these you're not getting another pair until you're old enough to buy your own. But right now you clearly don’t have enough money to buy the 50 dollar shoes you desire. You tie up the shoes and shove the jam-packed math notebook into your backpack and fling it over your shoulder as you grab a jacket from the hook above the stairs.
You head out down the steep cement stairs and stomp in the puddles of rain going down your driveway. You take long strides along the muddy sidewalk covered in rain adjoined to make puddles and watch ahead, occasionally looking up to see the sunrise in the distance. You eventually reach the bus stop at the corner of Willington and burment, where the bus is supposed to pick you, and only you up for a long deceptive day at school. You look up and down the street to see if the bus is coming from either, even though you know it always comes from the right side not the left. You see it approaching you and wait for a complete stop to get on. When you get on you move all the way the the back of the bus and sit in the only one person seat in the entire bus. You pull out your phone and plug heaphones into the bottom of the champagne colored Iphone in your possession and blast your music so obnoxiously loud that no one else can be heard. So that you will not be disturbed until you reach your destination.
You take out your black journal with the stretched out string wrapped around it to write down ideas that have been flowing through your brain all morning. Until Jared Flinton gets on the bus, then you shut it faster than it had been opened and shove it back in the backpack you have neglected to believe was there until you needed it most. You only do this because you know Jared, and he will steal ideas off of you. You quickly take a glance at Jared to see if he realized your journal being pawned off to the pack behind you. Then continue staring out the window until you reach the place you’ve been dreading all morning.
You see the school from the window of the bus filled with kids, and attempt to bury your head in your lap to get away from it all, but in the time being, you suck it up and get off the bus. But only to begin another elongated, tedious school day.
You get up as soon as the bus stops and move towards the front until people get up behind you. Then you're forced to stop and wait for the people in front of you to get off so you can too. You wait patiently but your leg twitches as it always does. You walk down the slippery rubber steps to the tan paved sidewalk and walk under the red and white overhang to get into the school. You then see teachers motioning you towards the big gym. Following their commands you walk through the big black double doors getting you to the gym full of sweaty kids from the ages of 11-14 with the occasional 15 year old. You make your way across the gym to the other side closer to all of your classes and wait for the 7:50 bell indicating that you have the 20 minutes you need to walk to your locker and to your first class of the day.