Satisfaction

One

I sighed, and locked my apartment door then proceeded to walk down the stairs to the nearby bus stop, that would take me to my bus stop for the school itself. I will never regret emancipating myself, but sometimes I think about how having slightly less responsibility would be somewhat of a blessing. But the inspiring images of neglect and loathing brought me back. 

I hear the familiar screeching of the bus breaks and I stand upright as the doors open. "Good-mornin' Emily!" The bus driver says.

"Good morning Miss B! How are you?" I asked politely.

"I'm good, I'm good," she said, sounding exhausted. I sat down on the seat across from hers, right by the door. 

"Long shift?" I asked curiously.

She chuckled, "You could say that." I smiled, that was the end of the conversation.

I look around the bus quickly finding only a homeless looking guy and a nurse. I was about to turn my head to the window when I saw something in the seat across from mine. A jack in a box? Do they even make those anymore?

I scoot to the edge of my seat and grab it then push myself back to my original spot. Even if they didn't make these anymore, it's clear this one is old. The paint was chipped and fading, the wood was dried and cracked. A bad feeling grew in my stomach, a dark, sinister feeling that I couldn't ignore. I shoved it in my backpack.

---

I hate school. Old memories and faded relationships haunt me here.

I groan silently and close my locker rather loudly. Shaking my head I speed walked to class, music. I genuinely love music, if by chance I make it past eighteen, which I probably -yet unfortunately- will, I want to make a career out of it. I took my seat and waited for the bell, and sighed.

"Well, well, well. An't it Emiloner Transvestite," someone from behind me sneered. Derek. I lifted my head up, straightened my posture and took a deep breath looking around the room, pretending that I hadn't heard him. He is literally the only person in this school that talks to me more than necessary. He's the only one that teases me. He's an immature ass-hat, so I don't mind him much, it's quite amusing actually. 

"Yo' Emilooonneer, you're boring me," he egged on.

I sighed, "What's wrong with being a transvestite?" I asked, throwing him off guard.

"What?" He snapped.

"You called me a transvestite... You were obviously trying to offend me. But I just don't understand how that would be offensive..." I explained, genuinely curious. I raised my eyebrows at him, just as the final bell rang. He still hasn't answered. "Hmp. Well, just to give you something to think about," I nodded then turned back to my seat.

---

At lunch, you had the usual cliques that sat with each other.

The popular because of money, and "beauty" *cough* Ken and *cough, cough* Barbies *cough* Man... I should really get that cough checked out, I think my head is getting a cold... Then the popular because of athletics. The popular for just being well liked by everyone, or like the student council. The so-called "Bad asses". I never understood how getting suspended, talking back to teachers, and smoking in the bathroom classifieds you as "bad ass", I think it just classifies you as stupid. Then there are the drama and bands people mixed. Then the tech' kids mixed with the "nerds." Then the "outcasts" or "misunderstood." They all sit in the same proximity to each other. Popular with popular, band/drama with band/drama.

Me? People consider me the outcast of all outcasts, the outlaw of every part of the social ladder. Because I sit at the empty circular table in the back. Yup, that's me. I'm just confined in here until next period.