Watch Me Wither

Ryan Schulz

I wake up to the monotonous sound of my alarm, and get out of bed. The room is dark and cold and my body aches for the comfort of my bed. I muster the courage to get dressed in the bitter cold of my room and run to the bathroom to rinse off. I turn on the shower hoping it will warm up my cold body. While I wait for the shower to heat up I look in the mirror. All I see is a tired sixteen year old girl. She has long auburn hair and emerald green eyes but she is not me. She doesn't smile the way I used to or have cute French braided pony tails. She is tired, cold, and hardened. 

Before long the room begins to fill with steam because I forgot about the shower I turned on. I take one last look in the mirror and step into the steaming breath of the shower. I sit down and let the hot water roll down my back and abolish any cold that was once in my body.  Once my thick hair is wet enough I massage in my favorite shampoo. It smells like freshly picked roses with a tint of cinnamon. As I relish in the warm hug of the shower and the fresh scent of my hair I loose track of time. The minutes begin to tick by as I sit trying to wash away my problems. It is not until my toes begin to prune that I get out and dry off. The icy cold air welcomes me like an old friend and sends a chill down my spine. I hug my towel to my chest and bolt for the warmth of my bed. Once I am in bed and tucked back in with my cozy blankets I glance at the time. The clock reads 7:30. This can't be. I only have ten minutes to do my makeup and blow dry my hair. I decide to skip both and through my hair into a top knot and hope no one will care enough to criticize me. Suddenly, the smell of French toast lures me into the kitchen. My mom smiles and hands me a plate with two pieces of French toast and an orange. I love her. Only she would know that I would be running late and care enough to make me breakfast and pack me a lunch. Now that I think about it, this happens everyday. I wake up late or have a hair crisis; yet, she is always ready with a plate of breakfast and a bagged lunch. 

While I'm eating my French toast I glance at the clock, it is 7:45. I rush out of the house ,almost forgetting my backpack, and sprint to the bus stop. Luckily, I'm on the varsity track team so I made it there just in time.The bus grinds to a stop and I join the flock of kids rushing on. I wave hello to the bus driver, Carla. She doesn't see me. So, I walk to the back of the bus where I have sat for the last two years. It is as far as I can get from Ryan and his malicious gang. Ryan has been tormenting me since my first year of high school. He is the one person who doesn't treat me like I'm invisible. It is quite funny actually. I have spent my whole life trying to be noticed and the one person who sees me, I wish never knew my name. Luckily, he doesn't get on for three stops so I will have peace until then. So, I grope through my bag trying to find my headphones so I can listen to my playlist. I really wish I didn't keep so much stuff in my bag. I mean I really don't need it all. I find my headphones in a pocket on the side of my bag and put them on. Music is my way to relax. If I turn it up just loud enough I can't hear Ryan talk about me our notice how I don't have any friends. It is just me and the music. 

Before I know it we are at the third stop, Ryan's stop. He walks in and I immediately know he is in a foul mood. His eyebrows are furrowed and his jet blonde hair is strewn across his face. I'm scared. Ryan's parents abuse him, I know that. The whole school knows that. What everyone doesn't know is that Ryan takes is anger out on me. Ryan starts his way down the aisle and I watch him suspiciously. He passes row by row until he finds his spot, except, he doesn't stop. He walks his way right down the aisle until he is right next to me. I can't deal with this, not today. Normally I can handle his heartless banter but today, he is mad. His icy blue eyes stare me down, making a list of all the imperfections that hide behind my stern green eyes and speckled cheeks. Then, he opens his mouth,

"How was breakfast today short stack?" He asks in a mocking tone.

"Why do you care?" I reply hoping to boar him before he can really insult me. It doesn't work. If anything, it intrigued him. He replies,