I woke up not from an alarm, but from a large discomfort I was feeling on my back. Stretching and opening my eyes, I realized the cafe was still dark and the sun had not yet come up. Sitting up, I rubbed my back. The sofa in the shop was old and lumpy, not very well suited for sleeping.
Yet again, I didn't have much choice these days. Squinting at the clock on the wall, I realized it was 5:30 and time to get my day going. Looking outside and noting the dark clouds, I figured it'd be the perfect day to throw on my brother's old, worn out grey sweater over some black leggings.
It's the most comfortable article of clothing I own. It's a wide neck without a hood, and since my older brother was much taller than me, it's long and loose. In big red letters it read "Stanford."
It's days like these I thank goodness my hair is mostly straight and I don't have to do anything to it. I can just let my honey colored hair down and know it doesn't look like complete poop.
Leaving the lights off so as not to burn my eyes or draw attention to the store, I went behind the counter and grabbed myself a nice scone. Additionally, I made myself a cup of hot chocolate in a to-go cup before stuffing my duffel bag back in the cupboard and leaving the shop. With my backpack in tow, I locked up the shop and began my trek to school.
The sun still hadn't rose when I arrived at school, and there was only the faint glow of morning sun lighting up the dark sky. The school hadn't opened yet, since it was just past six o'clock, so I made my way to the football field as I usually do on these early mornings. I make my way to the top bleacher and sit down.
Our football field is set in this magnificent location where if you look to the left, the sun rises, and in the evening when you look to the right, the sun sets. It's quite marvelous in the morning, and that's because it's most peaceful then.
When the sun is peaking over the horizon, I finally take out my notebook and black pen, and begin to doodle.
Doodles, sketches, drawings -- whatever you want to call them. Of the spiral notebooks I have, this one is dedicated solely to my art. I discovered my passion for drawing back in the eighth grade, and now I seem to frequently feel this compulsive need to discard my soul onto a piece of binder paper.
I scribble out a girl in a dress. She is being lifted off the ground by the wind, and it's swirling around her like a tornado so that her long hair and dress are twisting about her. The only piece of her face that is seen is part of her eye, which is closed, and a portion of her mouth, which is shaped into a slight frown.
It's not a masterpiece by any means, and after fifteen minutes or so, I glance down at my work and grimace. Something about her makes me feel wildly unsettled, even though she is my own creation.
On that note, I slam my notebook shut in sudden frustration. Staring at the now risen sun more deeply, I sigh before uplifting myself off the bleachers.
I trudge through the halls that are now filling and force a smile on my face. One thing I've come to notice is that if you force a smile long enough, it soon starts to become more and more genuine.
My converse are beat up from the years they have trekked through these halls, but that doesn't stop them from carrying on. If I ever need reassurance, I remind myself that if my converse have lasted this long after all they have gone through, then I can make it too.
Yeah, it might be a little crazy, but it actually works.
Today, I felt the need to really put an effort out into my school work. I found it to be a lot more draining than anticipated, and by the time Art came around six period, I was spent.
Looking at the collage of drawings I'd been working on for the last two weeks, I felt upset about how it was turning out.
"Everything okay over here?" Ms. Georgia asked me.
But if there's one thing art has taught me, it is to be patient. Remaining open minded and not freaking out allows more ideas to flow.
I let out a breath and averted my eyes back to my struggling piece. "Hopefully it will be soon."
Ms. Georgia laughed lightly, exactly what you would expect from someone of her lean size. "It looks lovely, Sami. Just let your color pencils flow more freely."
I nodded as she walked off to help some other suffering student.
It's hard to me to be given a task to draw something specific. I work best when I'm inspired by a moment, not when I have an assignment to be done.
Luckily, Ms. Georgia is understanding of that, and all of our semester work isn't due until the end of the semester.
Still, that little fact wasn't very enlightening, and I ended up making no more progress on my piece by the end of the day.
*****
Friday rolled around quickly this week, for a couple reasons.
1. I was working every evening at the Cafe, and I also worked a shift or two at Jay's Market.
2. I didn't attend school on Thursday-- this is the main reason.
Why didn't I go to school? Long story short I got caught up in something that felt more important at the time, and I just couldn't make it.
Mr. Portman's face had been reprimanding when I finally made my way in to his fourth period English class. And to make things worse, I was late. Turns out my chemistry teacher also wanted to talk to me about my worsening attendance, therefore making me late to fourth period.
"Miss Spark, thank you for finally gracing us with your presence," he made the point of embarrassing me, to which the class chuckled. "Take a seat." There was no hint of anger in his voice, just his usual tone.
I slid into my seat and smiled at the girl sitting next to me, who was quite obviously staring. She looked weirded out that I would smile at her, which was strange, but I shook it off as Mr. Portman continued on.
"Alright class, as you know we will be having a debate today on Civil Rights articles we've been reading this week," As he said this, the class fumbled through their backpacks to retrieve binder paper, while I stared wide eyed at Mr. Portman.
What articles?
"Circle up, you all know what to do," He told us all as the class immediately turned the desks so were sitting in a large circle.
We were organized into teams based on what color marble we drew, and as I met with my team, I peered at the boy next to me and saw that his papers were strategically highlighted.
As my group discussed their arguments, I asked the boy if I couple pretty please glance over his papers, and he handed them over.
Thankfully, I was able to retain enough information that I would be able to debate the rhetoric strategies in class.
My team ended up winning, but on my way out of class, Mr. Portman said to me "You won't be able to do that every time you know."
I turned to face him with a confused face and he added, "Skim the articles last minute. You were able to pull some pretty good points out of your sleeve, but one day you'll be wearing some sort of tank top and it's not going to work." Not knowing whether to laugh or be serious about his analogy, I stayed quiet and nodded.
"You're quite a bright girl, you know. If you put the effort in, you could really go places," he said with undoubtedly stern eyes.
"Er, thank you. I'll try to remember that."
He shook his head, as if he was trying to understand. "See you Monday."
"Yeah, see you," I parted with as I made my way down the halls.
Lunch was a bust, especially since when I got to fifth period, I found out we were having a chapter test that I had no clue we had. I had been bummed that I hadn't used the lunch studying, and I was bummed that I hadn't even known about the quiz.
Who owned Standard Oil Co.?
What law protected against monopolies?
Which of the following most closely identifies with T. Roosevelt's foreign policy?
Nervously twirling my pen, I came to the frightening realization that I didn't know the answer to a single question on the twenty question test.
*****
"Hey Sami! How was school?" Jenny greeted as I entered the cafe after school.
"It was good, the sunrise was lovely this morning," I told her, my history and English troubles already long forgotten. "And I found a penny on the sidewalk on my way home."
"Sounds like someone has some good luck coming their way," She winked.
Laughing, I nodded "I would sure hope so."
My black apron was on and my hair was in a ponytail moments later, ready to work.
Together, Jenny and I worked to manage the chaos of our Friday night customers, and when it was time to close, I told Jenny I was going to use the restroom and afterwards I would lock up on my way out.
"You sure?" She asked, giving me a funny look.
"Yeah, nature calls, after all," I joked, and she rolled her eyes before saying goodnight and leaving. When she was gone, I came out to the main sitting area and sighed before plopping onto the couch.
I was completely alone.
*****
Jenny hates for me to work weekends because she says I need to go out and be wild. I know that I would never do such a thing, and deep down Jenny knows too, but that hasn't ever stopped her from forcing me out into the 'chaotic wonderful world.'
"Go experiment! Be a teenager!"
"What's that supposed to mean?" I asked her with raised eyebrows as she shooed me out of the shop.
"Get crazy! Be hormonal! Party! Now go, get out of my hair," She instructed as she handed me a to-go cup of hot chocolate and a muffin. "And eat that, you need to gain some weight."
That brings me to now, where I am utterly, one hundred percent living up my teenage life. On a swing. At a playground.
This child's haven happened to be in a not so good area of town, and it was unfortunately a little run down and in need of a new paint job. That, however, did not effect the usability of the swings, and they were still greatly delightful. Plus, it's the playground I used to come to frequently when I was younger, and I loved it then. Still do now.
I spent my day there, either on the swings or laying on the grass hill over looking the park, sketching. I tried not to worry about where I was going to sleep that night, and instead I worked to live in the moment and enjoy what was around me.
Children. Kids came and went from the playground all day long, the sound of their laughter and shouts filling my ears and awakening my liveliness.
What I would give to be five years old again, sleeping in the same room as my brother and sister. There were both teenagers then, but we still shared the same small room.
At night, my sister would pull me in to sleep with her in her bed, though she was seventeen and could have easily just tossed me aside. She didn't, and neither did by brother.
I miss those days.
I try not to think about it though, just because it creates this numb feeling in my stomach and I'm reminded of everything that has ever gone wrong.
Isn't it crazy how one memory can change your whole mood in a second?
I shake off any lamentable feelings I have, and instead listen to the sound of the children laughing. Some even argue, which causes me to smile and laugh. Feeling peace in the moment, I decide to draw an abstract image of children laughing.
I hum to myself as my haphazard sketch noticeably morphs into a detailed drawing. It wasn't what I intended it to be, but the emotion it added to the page left me feeling pleased.
Though the air had been nippy all day, there was a decline in the temperature as the sun set. Feeling that it was time, I made my way back to my feet and wandered back in the direction of the cafe.
Apparently I had been wandering much slower than intended and the journey was longer than I realized, because when I finally arrived at Angel's Cafe, it was dark and closed down for the night.
My heart rate sped up astronomically as I panicked, knowing full well that I had no where else to go at night besides this shop.And it was cold outside.
By instinct, I darted forward and furiously wiggled the door handle. Very much to my surprise, it creaked open.
Jenny never left it open.
I hesitantly moved inside, and saw that nothing was out of place or messed up, meaning no one had broken in and damaged the place. But why was it open?
That was when my eyes fell on a cup of hot chocolate sitting on the counter, with my name written in Jenny's girly, perfect handwriting, including the heart over the i in my name.
This seemed unusual to me, but since I was cold and in need of a place to sleep, I didn't question my luck. Instead I happily sipped my hot chocolate and once again fell asleep on the lumpy couch.
And tonight, I dreamed happily of simpler times.
.