WANTED: Love of my Life

02. Old people's feet stink

That's probably one of the reasons. And hey, I don't want you to think that I am the moaning and groaning type. I actually don't have that many reasons to complain or drop out of school instantly. Many reasons to be happy, even: My grades are not that bad, in comparison with the very bad, I don't get picked on more often than most other freaks, my older sister goes to a different school, and I've actually made some great friends at my own school, although I've no idea how that happened.

“ANGELA! YOU'RE LATE FOR SCHOOL!” my mom yelled up the stairs.

By the way, did I forget to mention that my name's Angela? How rude not to introduce myself. My mom would be so shouting at me right now – if she weren't already, that is.

“HURRY UP! YOU'RE GOING TO MISS THE CABLE CAR!”

Okay, if that didn't give away where I live, I'll make it even easier for you and mention the big, red bridge I saw as I blinked sleepily out of the window into the bright morning sunlight. The fog was drifting in from the Pacific Ocean, shrouding the Golden Gate Bridge in a mystical mantle, every drop of moisture glinting golden in the sun's rays.

It was a beautiful day. It probably would have been even more beautiful if I could have gotten my eyes to open all the way. It also, incidentally, happened to be the second most important day of my entire life. I bet if I'd known that back then, I'd been a bit more appreciative of the golden sunlight and all that. My eyelids drooped.

The alarm clock next to my bed gave off two angry beeps. I glared at it as best I could through my heavy eyelids and tried to find my legs so I could shove them out of bed and let the rest of me be dragged behind. The clock was a gift from my mother. When it was time to wake up, it beeped once. Five minutes later, it beeped again, more angrily. Ten minutes later, it wouldn't stop beeping for a quarter of an hour. Your only chance to save your ears from permanent damage was to flee out of the room, the flat, and preferably also the apartment building. That sort of thing my mother gave to her children for a fourteenth birthday. And I couldn't even get her convicted for it. Honestly, I checked!

Another encouragement in my mother's sweet tones floated up the stairs. By now, I had managed to get vertical and was stuffing books and things into my High School Musical Backpack – another gift from my mom. I suppose it would have been too much to ask for her to buy me one with Don Corleone or Clint Eastwood on it, even if the idea had occurred to her in the first place. But I doubted the head of the familia would have taken very kindly to being stuffed with scuffed school books and an assortment of pens of various shapes and sizes. So it was probably just as well that my mother was the way she was.

“ANGELAAA!”

Forget I just said that.

I was down the stairs, past my mom and out the door in a flash. One thing you have to say for having dancing aspirations – they keep you agile. And I had always been quick on my feet. Certainly quick enough to catch up to a squeaky old cable car moving at the nerve-racking speed of nine point somethingorother miles per hour.

I leapt into the elevator just before the door slammed shut, and a startled couple retreated into the corner. Save! My mother wasn't coming after me! I smiled up at the two other people in the elevator, only slightly annoyed by how far I had to crank my neck back to see their faces high above.

“Late for school,” I explained, dirty little liar that I was. Well, not exactly a liar. I was late for school – but it would take a lot more than that to make me start running. The couple smiled back, and nodded, and everything was all right. All right? Who was I kidding? Everything was perfect! My mother hadn't gotten her hands on my backpack! She hadn't had a chance to put anything in there. I was save, at least for today.