Nepeta rested her head against Equius's chest.
"I'll miss you," she murmured, "Promise you'll stay in touch!"
"I promise," said Equius.
"You have to text me every day!" Nepeta demanded. She could feel tears stinging her eyes.
"Every day," he echoed.
She wrapped her arms around him, holding him tight.
"Goodbye," she whispered.
"Goodbye, Nepeta," Equius responded, "I'll miss you so much."
He wrapped his arms around her in a crushing bear-hug, lifting her off her feet. She laughed, but it was choked off by the reminder that this would be the last time she'd laugh with him. When they finally broke apart, Nepeta could see tears in Equius's eyes as well.
"Nepeta, it's time to go," her mother called, "We'll miss our flight."
Nepeta nodded, kissed Equius on the cheek and hopped into the passenger seat of the car.
"Goodbye!" she called through the car window.
He raised his hand to wave, his image distorted by unshed tears. Nepeta twisted in her seat as the car pulled away, waving until her arm ached and her friend had vanished from sight.
"Wake up, sleepyhead."
Nepeta groaned at the sound of her mother's voice and raised her hands over her ears. It did no good.
"Nepeta, it's time to get up."
Her voice was firm. Nepeta stretched luxuriously, and sat up in bed. She blinked once, twice.
"Alright, I'll get dressed," she mumbled sleepily.
Her mother ruffled her short, curly hair.
"Wear something nice for your first day of school," she said.
Nepeta groaned again as her mother left the room. She dug through her drawers for a while, finally settling on a pair of jeans, mismatched socks and a black-and-green polo, slightly wrinkled from travel.
Then she stumbled downstairs, still rubbing sleep from her eyes. Breakfast was waiting on the kitchen table, a simple bowl of shredded wheat.
"Good morning, sunshine," Nepeta's mother smiled.
"Morning, Mum," she replied, wolfing her cereal like it was the last meal she's ever eat.
She grabbed her lunch box (already packed last night) from the refrigerator, and tucked it into her backpack along with her school supplies and a sketch book.
"Ready?" her mother asked.
Nepeta inhaled deeply through the nose.
"Ready," she said, mustering a confidence she didn't feel.
"Would you like me to walk you to the bus stop?" Her mother smiled, "Or is it not cool to be seen with your old lady on your first day?"
Nepeta giggled. "I think I'll make it by myself."
She wrapped her mom in a fierce hug, kissed her on the cheek, then dashed out the door.
The early autumn air was just a tad bit nippy, and Nepeta wondered if she'd regret not bringing a jacket. She idly doodled in her sketchbook as she waited for the bus to arrive. The roar of school bus engines is possibly the most deafening noise ever heard on a regular basis, so Nepeta heard the bus before she saw it. She stuffed her sketchbook back into her bag just as it pulled up at the curb. Nepeta could feel butterflies -no, more like atlas moths- fluttering in her stomach. As she climbed the steps into the bus and scanned for a seat, she was dismayed to find that none of them were empty. She moved slowly down the aisle to a young boy sitting alone, his forehead against the window.
"Umm... Could I sit with you?" she asked.
The boy looked up. He had light brown eyes and pale skin, and his hair was shaved into a mohawk, which honestly didn't suit his demeanor at all.
"Uh, sure," he mumbled.
Nepeta knit her brows together and sat down.
"I'm Nepeta Leijon," she announced, "What's your name?"
The boy, who had already turned back to gazing out the window, sat up slightly and faced her.
"Tavros Nitram," he said in a soft voice.
Hesitantly, he extended his hand.
Nepeta grinned broadly and shook it. He smiled back with a mouthful of braces. They passed most of the bus ride in silence, though Nepeta tried occasionally to coax Tavros into conversation. When they finally arrived at school, Tavros tapped her on the shoulder.
"I, uh," he glanced sideways, "I have to get off first."
Finally, Nepeta noticed the pair of crutches propped against the far side of the bus seat.
"Yikes!" she said, "Did you break you leg or something?"
"Uh, no," Tavros mumbled, "I have a problem with my spinal column. At worst, I could end up a paraplegic. At best, which is pretty much where I am, I have a lot of trouble using my legs."
"Oh," Nepeta muttered, "I'm sorry."
"Yeah, um, me too," he replied, "But I really need to get off the bus."
"Oh, right!" Nepeta exclaimed.
She grabbed her book bag to let him through. He glanced up at her and smiled as he ambled past. She grinned back, then plunked back into her seat.
He must be really brave, she thought, Going through life knowing that one day, he won't even be able to walk.
When the boy had finally made his difficult way down the stairs, everyone stood and flooded from the bus. Nepeta fought her way through the crowd, toward the entrance to the school. She racked her brain, trying to remember the online orientation that her mom had subjected her to the night before. Room 413, Mr. Scratch. It was on the second floor, so she headed first for a flight of stairs. The staircase leveled out into a hallway that split in two directions. Nepeta checked the room number on the right side. 410. The left. 409. Right it was, then. She meandered down the hallway, eyes darting over the room numbers, until she came to the end of the hall. Room 413 was the last door on the left. She stopped outside the door, inhaled quickly, and plunged in.