Punctual

It's going to start off rather slow.

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Insomnia. It seems to have taken a liking to me these past couple of weeks.

When I am alone in the dark, every single insignificant noise is magnified tenfold. Cricket chirps transform into thunderous claps; the noise of cool air being pumped through the vents mixes in with the constant hum of electricity to create a cacophony akin to a windstorm.

My head hurts. I want to sleep.

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I have a temper. And a rather bad one, at that. I’m just very good at hiding it.

Usually.

“You’re going to be late, you know.”

I narrow my eyes in an attempt to block out the sunlight flooding through the window, sitting up as my mother’s face, wide-eyed and expectant, comes into focus. I groan slightly and fall back onto my pillow.

“I know.” A line forms in between my eyebrows as I wrinkle my forehead.

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I am never late. Not ever. I have exactly eight minutes before the first bell rings and I am fully prepared to do anything in order to maintain my perfect record. Anything. I’ll consider it even if it’s illegal.

The school gate comes into view. I skid to a full stop, adjusting my uniform, hair, knee socks, everything, wiping off a few specks of dirt from my scuff-free leather loafers and discarding the tissue in a nearby waste bin. Digging into my schoolbag, I whip out a compact and double-check my reflection, flashing the mirror a perfectly executed photo-ready smile to make sure there is nothing in my teeth. I wipe the smirk from my face before hurrying into the school entrance just as the warning bell rings.

Perfect.

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I’m also rather selfish. And impatient. I'm really just a no-good, all-around horrible person.

“Hiyashi-san!”

I swivel around to meet the mousy-haired girl currently invading my extremely precious personal space by waving the class worksheet in my face. I give her a gentle smile, prompting the girl to continue.

Armed with a graphing calculator and a brand new mechanical pencil, it takes me over half the lunch period to re-teach my classmate what we had just learned in the previous lesson. She thanks me furiously as I wave away her gratefulness, smiling all the while.

I can feel my blood pressure skyrocketing. I think it’s time for lunch.

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The blood orange rays seep slowly through my bedroom curtains, signaling another day when I am awake before the sun. Under the covers, I eye the open textbooks littering my bedspread and sigh in annoyance as I slip off my reading glasses.

I don’t realize how many hours I spend wide-awake, staring at the ceiling until my mother comes, knocking on my door to wake me up.

“Sayako-chan! You’re going to be late if you don’t hurry!”

“I know, I know!”

Not moving from under the bedspread, I take a moment to close my slightly puffy eyes and smile.

Because I am never late. Not ever. And I am fully prepared to do anything to maintain my perfect record.

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