The Survivors I: Fresh Beginnings

A Day To Dread

I - Katrina

The dreaded day to return to school loomed in my dream right before my mother's abrupt awakening.

"Get up!" she shouted, being the typical mother she was. "You need to make sure Joses doesn't miss his bus!"

"Of course," I replied mannered, confusing my mother.

My mother's rosy face blinked in confusion. Every morning, I would dread getting up an extra twenty minutes to walk Joses to his bus, but today was different. My mother sprang away without shutting the door, seeming delighted with my fresh attitude but left my bedroom exposed to exterior sights. With one eye still struggling to keep open, I gaze towards my eleven year old brother, Joses, who kneels down to tie his tiny fifth grader sneakers, and I feared that time to be the last time I awake to watch him wrap a string around a loop.

When winter break concluded, my concerns were of society. Why was school not cancelled? Why did my parents still force upon me the danger of death? Did anybody else even realize?

I swiftly leapt out of my massive, unkept bed and began my journey to the bathroom. Unlike the stereotypical girl, I prepared myself for what I proposed as my last day of school in fifteen minutes or less. Joses, being polite, patiently sat himself in the chair adjacent to the front door. I gradually made my way downstairs, reminiscing christmas and the time I spent with Joses.

On Christmas morning, I waited for Joses to awake from his deep slumber.
I bought him a Christmas present and couldn't wait for him to open it. Joses awakes to see a blurry picture; his older sister ready to gift him something special. His soft, young hands take grasp of the atrociously wrapped box ready to ravage the boundary between him and his new joy.

I do not finish the thought, because the sound of police sirens interrupt me. They were a sign, and I knew all along. I do not finish the thought because I remember that danger seeps in the air. I realize that I stand outside with Joses, and we are already on our way to the corner of the street. Red burns its pigment into my eyes as its vehicle zooms past my brother and I.

I don't know what to think about anything.

The bright yellow school bus eventually arrives to obtain my brother.

"Goodbye," I said, not bye.

I continue to travel along the barren sidewalks of my neighborhood when I am joined by my bestfriend Shelbie. Her presence warms me, but the stubborn worry refuses to leave my mind. Walking together, we eventually succeed in reaching a crushed red stop sign. The blood red octagon reaches down to my shoulders, and can be easily obstructed from vision.

I anxiously wait for the school day to close even though it had not begun yet. The back of my neck itched from fear and my throat was dry from worry.

When the bus failed to arrive on time, another person arrived; Zach, an old friend with a rough history. He glances towards me as I make small talk with Shelbie. As I attempt to keep my thoughts off him, his tender gaze resists the loss of my attention. He turns away, and then I do the same. Although we had trouble in the past, I worry for Zach too. He digs his hands in his pockets and peers in he direction which the bus was meant to arrive through.

I realize when the bus has come when I watch his hands release from his pockets, and I catch myself giving I him attention. Shelbie and I share a seat in the center of the bus as Zach plops himself in the end.

Clouds shuffle around dark blue and grey in the occupied sky. The bus ride, only about five minutes, gives me a tour of my home, and I sat there wondering if it would remain so.

A sign portended from a patch of tall grass. It stood at least fifteen meters tall to tell me that I have arrived at the desolate "Ross Middle School".