Woke up on the floor this morning, nothing unusual rolling out of my bed had become a hobby of mine, though I probably should put some pillows on my landing zone. Getting up I felt a soreness, a piercing needle, right on my calf from the work the day before. I have to quit my job, I must quit my job, I will quit my job. Of course I won't, it was just a chant I told myself to help get through the day. I couldn’t quit my job  for the same reason that in my kitchen there isn’t breakfast, just a toaster and a bucket full of bread I bought a month ago.

I barely finished breakfast before my eyes finally focused on the clock. I was going to be late. Being late isn’t such a big thing you would think, well my school has a limit to how many times you can be late before you're kicked out. For most kids the limit is 15, but due to my “interesting” circumstance they have pushed it to 20 for me. And, well, I used my 20th last week. I can already hear the school counselor's voice in my head. “If you cannot manage work with school, and get here on time, then we will have to break your emancipation from foster care.” Psh what do they know? Nevertheless I really don’t want to have that conversation so I get up from my “vintage” yard sale chair, and run out the door. 

While locking my apartment door I spot my super kind neighbor carrying a bunch of boxes in the corner of my eye. “Hi Olivia.'' Dang it, he saw me. I can't afford to waste any time talking to him, but I can’t just leave, maybe just some small talk. “Hi Mr. Anderson, why all the boxes?” I noticed my mistake immediately asking about the boxes. He's probably going to go on a rant about it and I’ll never leave. “Oh these, just donating some stuff, but there are a lot of them, so could you please lend a hand?” He says it with a warm smile, though the question feels kind of forced upon me. With anyone else I would have spat right in their face, but I owe Mr. Anderson was the only person who accepted me as an adult paying my taxes just like everyone else. I have to shut it down “I’m sorry Mr. Anderson, but I have to get to school.” His face goes red as if he forgot I was still technically a kid. “Of course do you want a lift? '' The offer seems like it's my only chance, since it's probably 7:45 by now and I have no car or money for an uber, however I promised myself that I didn’t need help from anybody. I shake my head and start running down the stairs.

I’m outside, ready to sprint in the direction of my school. After just three steps, CRAMP. Anyone ever told you to wait before swimming or something along those lines after eating. Well nobody told me, and I guess I’m facing the repercussions. Now on the floor unable to move without straining my already overworked calf. People crowded around, not offering a hand, until a familiar face poked through. “Mr. Anderson, what are you doing?” “Just moving my boxes, do you want a hand? '' He said as his hand reached down towards me. My morals tell me to say no, but I have no other choice.

I’m in his car now, it's an old toyota with seats that look like they haven’t been cleaned in months, though it doesn't really concern me. Looking out the window I see families with their children. “So, umm how's school?” It’s his attempt at small talk. I’m not really interested, so I just respond interested “no”. He seems to understand that I'm not into small talk because he doesn’t talk to me again. 

After a while I realize I'm not going to make it, looking at my watch it's 7:50. I ask, wait nevermind I yell at Mr. Anderson to “SPEED UP”. Looking at his MPH it's 90 on a road where the speed limit is 30. Soon enough I heard sirens behind us, I would tell Mr. Anderson to speed up, but I don’t think that his car can handle any more. “POTHOLE” there's no way that at this speed we won't go flying, so the car skids and almost topples over before stopping. The cops here now and well, I think I'm going to get a worse punishment than whatever Ms.counselor would give me. No they can’t punish me if they don’t know that I'm involved. I try to open the car door, but its stuck so I crawl out the window before running.

I’m here right before school, checking my watch it’s 7:59. I sprint to the door. The pain in my calf is now so bad it's indescribable, but I don’t care, swing the door open, and run up the stairs to the third floor where I see my homerooms just there, right across the hall. “I can make it”. I move my hand to the doorknob when “RING”. “Welp no reason to be in school any more”, and so I leave.