Sami's Kisses

One

The walk to school felt longer than usual, and my feet were heavy as I forced them to carry me onward.

Today will be a good day, it will. It will.

Lately, more than ever, that has become my mantra. It's a pep talk I have to give myself each morning, or whenever I'm feeling discouraged about a day, or about life in general.

Usually, I'm not one to complain. However this last weekend creates an exception, as it was not one for the Hall of Fame. In fact, this weekend was quite an awful disaster. And now, on this Monday morning, I'm having to face my arch nemesis of Cristo High School.

It used to not be like this. When high school started, I loved school. I saw it as my one way ticket out of this place. But all it is now is a concrete building the holds me in for eight hours each day. Forty hours a week that I desperately need for other things.

Picture this. I'm standing in front of this dismal grey building, just staring up at it. The longer I stare, the more daunting it becomes. It's like the building is stretching and growing before my eyes, shaking the ground as it rises into the endless sky. Essentially, when I stare at my high school, I'm staring at my Everest -- these high school years have represented the most treacherous ones of my life.

But, I'm not about to let the fact that my life is in turmoil get me down. After all, the sun is out and shining, making the early February air warmer so that I feel pleasant in my sundress. One of the perks of living near Sacramento, California.

Plus, I have my mantra to keep my going.

Adjusting my shoulder straps, I close my eyes and pause for a moment to soak up the sunlight (my Vitamin D of the day), letting myself take a deep breath in the meantime. When I reopen my eyes, I smile. It's a simple process, but it is rather helpful in easing a dismantled mind.

Like any high school, the walls of Cristo High are grey and lifeless, while these blobs known as students plow their way through without any regard for the thousands of other students in these same halls. It's sad, really. And in my last two and a half years here I've been doing the best I can to spread a little spark of light into these dismal halls.

"Would you like a kiss?" I asked a group of kids, probably freshmen, who are standing timidly by the water fountain, shortly after I made my way into the ominous building.

All of them give me weird, judgmental looks, but I don't let it phase me and instead I extend the opened bag of Hershey Kisses toward them.

"Uh, sure," One of the guys speaks up, reaching his hand into the bag and plucking one out. The other three follow suit quickly after, though only the first boy is brave enough to meet my eyes, and in an even bolder mood for the morning he flashes me a small smile.

"Have a good Monday," I smile to them before skipping off in the other direction, my mood lifted already from the smile he gave.

"Thanks," I hear him say as I make my way away from them.

My morning continued like this, and the smiles of the occasional people receiving kisses brightened my day to the point where I forgot my weekend troubles by the time I finished third period.

But, at the end of class fourth period, my problems seemed to be knocking on my metaphorical front door again.

And it was less than satisfactory.

"Sami, a word please," My English teacher, Mr. Portman, beckoned to me as everyone left the classroom. Yanking up my shoulder strap, a habit of mine for when I'm bracing myself for something that could potentially be unpleasant, I made my way to the front of the class while everyone emptied out.