Picture of Hayden on the side ------->



I sighed and tucked my brown, curly hair behind my ear while re-examining my outfit in the mirror. Feeling tired and lazy, I kept it simple with my dark jeans and my lavender sweatshirt.

Joy for Mondays. Not.

I look out my window to be disappointed in the rain. I actually love the rain, except when I have to walk to school and it's pouring cats and dogs. Days like these, I really wish I had a car.

I grabbed my umbrella and opened it in my room. I frowned as I watched myself in the mirror. I know opening an umbrella indoors is really bad luck, but I already know my day is going to go horribly, so I might as well welcome it.

I dramatically exhaled, in a way that has always annoyed my mother, before walking out my room and out the front door. No one was home, my parents had already left for work and they take my little brother to school when they leave.

It was physically impossible for me to stay dry in the rain. I've always had that curse; in one way or another, I always get pretty soaked. Whether its my pant leg or my hair or my socks, it just happens. Sometimes I wonder why I even bother with the umbrella, the rain gets to me anyway.

My life is like that though. I have the worst luck ever, and I figure I might as well embrace it now. I used to be extremely superstitious, but now, I make sure to do things like spill the salt, walk under a ladder, stand in front of a black cat as it runs by, break mirrors (that usually happens on accident though). Might as well have a little fun and challenge all those fateful superstitions if they're going to happen anyways.

With that thought, a smile crept onto my face before I obnoxiously jumped into a puddle. It splattered everywhere and I laughed out loud as I did so, basking in my childish joy.

Sometimes, it's my youthful side that initiates the bad things, but that doesn't ease my superstitious mind.

Just then, someone on a motorcycle pulled up next to me (because apparently people actually do ride motorcycles in the rain. Personally, I think it just seems dangerous).

The person chuckled, "Well that was cute." A deep voice spoke, a guy. He was unidentifiable since his whole face, except his mouth and chin, was covered. I knew he went to my school though because he was wearing a thick Letterman jacket with our school letter one the side, H for Hillside High.

I resisted the urge to stick my tongue out at him, "How else do you expect me to entertain myself?"

"You could hop on back with me," the voice said as his face turned into a smirk.

"Right," I scoffed. Did this random stranger really think I would get on the back of his motorcycle? No way! He could be a pedophile!

"Come on, I'm not a sex offender or anything!" He said as if he heard my thoughts, and he revealed his flawless smile in the process.

I shook my head teasingly, "Everyone knows only sketch balls say they're not creepers."

"Sketch balls?" He chuckled lightly.

"True fact." I stated matter of factly as I nodded.

"Sure, if you insist," He said as he roared the engine of his bike obnoxiously and rode off.

I chuckled to myself as I watched him ride off. Interesting. Had a guy from my school just stopped on his motorcycle to hit on me?

I laugh again. Yeah right. I'm not one of the popular cheerleaders or volleyball players, so why would anyone be interested?

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