Choice of Numbers (Written at age 12)

Chapter 5: New routine

It's been 3 weeks since I've moved here, nothing out of the ordinary has happened. I've ran around town, got a refill on corn flakes, reread the letters in the kybo, but I have chosen my job. Though it has nothing to do with what I'm good at, but that's how it is now a days, it's.......... fair.
I'm an art teacher. To choose what I was going to be I had to pick around ten numbers. I guess it narrows down the categories each time you qhoose.

Today I start work. I'm kinda excited, though I have barely any experience, when I was younger I always wanted to have a chance to do art, but that was hard to come by.
I know where Derek lives, his place is right next to the kybo. I feel bad for him, separated from his sister, though he doesn't show it I know he misses her, and now living in a third class house next to the worst smelling washroom ever.
I realized he lived there when I was walking to the kybo. Right before I opened the rusty hinged door I caught his glare. The odd thing was, before he realized I saw him, I think he was actually smiling.

*******

I head to the kybo. This time it's not to read the letters, you could say it's to read him.
I run slower than I normally do. So I'll have more time to see what he's up to. I should stop thinking about him, I will get married the fair way, but on and on I run hoping to see his black (or what I think is black) hair and his light eyes through the window. When I reach the kybo I look through the corner of my eye for the boy, but he's not there. I'm so stupid, of course he wouldn't be there, he hates me anyways, and I thought I hated him.
I open the door of the kybo, and plug my nose. Tears fill my eyes, I'd like to say it's because of the stench but every things getting to me. I miss my mom, my sister...............LUCAS, DAD!  My only hope is that they are coming, that I can count on them to take me to a place where I really can choose. Where I can be.............me.

I'm not worried my dad's always been a person to run a little late.

******

I head back to my house. I have 10 minutes before I have to be at work.
I grab my bag, swing it around my shoulders, and head outside.
Tap tap
Tap tap
Tap tap
Tap tap
And though I feel pain on the soles of my feet, I run all the way to West 10 school, open the door, and walk while gasping for breath.
I show my feet to the school nurse. She is not impressed. She pulls out pieces of glass from my feet, stitch up the deeper cuts, and gives me a pair of shoes in my size. I'm so stupid. Worst first impression ever. I limp down the hall to the art room. Right as I enter students begin to smile at me, they realize how young I am.
"Today we're going to be....."
Um, think Lea think.
"......using different materials to write out our names."
Some kids look disappointed, others clap and cheer. They all know how to write their names right?
I explain to them how to cut out shapes from paper to look like a letter, and how a macaroni noodle can make a great dot for an i. Then I send them off to do their own work.
One boy heads over to the storage cupboard and starts pulling out cans of spray paint and I immediately run over to him despite my sore foot and pull the cans out of his hands. He gets mad at me and calls me names, so I send him to the office.
Why would they have any spray paint here anyways? I put the cans in my bag, I can probably dispose of them down the kybo.

***

Once I get home I decide to go to the kybo to throw out my bloody shoes the nurse gave me and the spray paint. I decide not to run to the kybo for my foot  still aches.

I start to think of the time when I was little and I stepped on my moms sewing needle. The white carpet made it stand with the tip up so when I stepped on it I dyed the carpet with my blood. I remember how my mom, being a doctor immediately took to action and applied special creams to my sole. She sung the song Come away with me as she put on my band aid and sung me to sleep that night.

I'm not going to throw out the spray paint, I have a use for it.