Equations and Emotions

First Day Troubles

A sharp ringing jolts me from my sleep.
"Shut up!" I groan and roll over to hit snooze on my alarm. Ah, silence at last. The silence doesn't last long.
"Eva, darling, that's 7:15. It's time to get up for your first day back!"
"Whatever," I mumble. It's too early for school. After a summer of late nights and mid-midmorning rises, I'm unaccustomed to the early start.
Nevertheless, I haul myself out of bed and shuffle to the bathroom to brush my teeth. I change quickly, I grab my bag and rush downstairs.
"Morning poppet, would you mind- are you wearing a pyjama top?"
Shit.
I run back upstairs as my mum calls after me requesting I check that Jonah and Maya are getting dressed too. Jonah, as always is high as a kite, with the amount of energy only a child can have at 7:30am. Maya is usually more reluctant to wake up but on the first day of school she always manages to pull something out of the bag. And so, with a suitable t-shirt on, I go back downstairs.
I'm greeted with a plate of French toast and orange juice, which would be lovely if I wasn't on the brink of running late. I chug my orange juice, bid farewell to my mum, wrap my French toast in a napkin (there's no way in hell I would miss mum's French toast) and start walking to school.
After a few minutes of going over every possible thing that could go wrong on this, the first day of senior year, I approach the school.
Maybe I should turn back.
And miss class? On the first day! Not worth it.
Head held high, I walk into Seaford High School, home of the Sea Lions and focus on the rules of the halls.
Don't make direct eye contact with people you aren't friends with.
Don't crowd the popular kids.
Don't annoy the upperclassmen. Wait. I am an upperclassman now. It's the freshmen who should be avoiding me because obviously, with three years of Seaford High under my belt, all humanity has been stripped from me and I would, I don't know, cast tired glances? without mercy.
My train of thought derailed, I forgot the most important rule of all.
Look where you're going.
I collided with star quarterback, school heartthrob, son of my mother's best friend, Mitchell Fisher.
"Watch where you're going." He snaps.
I lower my head and dart away to find my locker.