Ty

A cool breeze sweeps through my hair as I walk to the bus station. My luggage lags behind me as I walk. I have been putting going back to school in the darkest corner of my brain, trying to avoid thinking of it.

As I wait at the station for the bus to arrive, I sip my tea with about a billion sugars in it. I can't stand the taste of coffee, so instead I drink tea. At least I don't have to be worried about being kept up at night from the caffeine.

I've been dreading going back to school since the day I left. I'm about to start year twelve, and then after that I have only one year left, then I'm gone for good. I don't know what I'll do after I'm out of secondary school. My parents want me to be some type of doctor, but I honestly can't imagine going back to school. Maybe university will be different.

The bus arrives and I haul my trunk aboard. I live so far away from school, I have to ride a public bus to the station where the school bus picks students up. After I board that, I probably won't see the outside world for months. The school does give us the option to go on monthly outings to the city, but I would rather stay on school grounds. Nearly everyone goes on the trips, so the ground are basically empty. It's quiet. Peaceful.

As I look out the window, I make a mental list about possible things to look forward to about going back to school.

First, the library. I loved being in the library, mainly because no one went there. Everyone just used their school-assigned laptops to look up everything. The laptops aren't good quality in the slightest, but they serve their purpose.

Second, Ms. Bellona-Wiles. The librarian. Seeing as I'm the only one who uses the library, and that's where I spend a good amount of my time, we have grown pretty close. She even allows me to call her by her first name, Carletta. She's young, and lovely, and sweet, and, as sad as it may seem, my only friend. She always has a book suggestion for me, and they are always good.

Third, the french onion soup.

To die for.

And lastly, my room. Most other kids have to share a room, but since there is an odd number of kids in our class, I get my own. You keep your same roommate each year, and two weeks of being at school our first year, my roommate got homesick to the point that he actually hurled on our carpet. It was foul, but he went home for good. It must be a miracle, but I haven't been forced into having a roommate since. When I'm not in the library or at class, I'm in my room. I always get to come back to it, and it always stays just as I left it.

The bus rumbles to a stop. I hoist up my luggage and, with as much grace as possible, make my way off the bus. I walk a few blocks to the place where I will be picked up by the bus for school. I see a couple of the kids I know from previous years standing there. A few new, anxious, eleven-year-olds. I avoid making eye contact with anyone. I even see some of the kids that are on the football team. I'm not even friendly with a single one of them.

I set my stuff down, and wait for the bus to arrive, with only those four things keeping me from sprinting away.