AUGUST 21ST, 7 A.M.
Whitestorm woke with a start. His phone screamed that it was 7 A.M. with a piercing alarm. He reached over grabbing his phone and turning the alarm off. He sat up in bed, a pit in his stomach. He never set an alarm for anything except,
"Bullshit school."
he muttered to himself. He willed himself to get out of bed and stand up, ignoring the protests from his mind to back and sleep. He shoved off his hoodie and pajama pants to wake up even more. He didn't need a run in with the cops or something from sleeping through the first day of school. He wanted a good seat anyway. Whitestorm went over to his closet to grab some clothes and almost fell back on his bed in panic. He must've left the cardboard door that covered his mirror open some time ago because he was leaning over his bed looking at the cardboard stuck out away from the mirror.
Whitestorm took a deep breath to try and compose his racing heart and push away the thought of looking at himself. He reached over and pushed it closed and snapped the button latch together, breathing a sigh of relief. He looked at his underwear drawer with discontent. School meant going outside. Going outside meant outing himself if he didn't pass enough. School meant bras. He grabbed two of them and threw them on quickly and snatched a plain black shirt to cover the colorful nightmares. A bit more relaxed that he didn't have to be reminded of being a minor and being trans, he put on some jeans and a gray hoodie, nothing that would attract too much attention.
Being fully dressed, he opened his cardboard mirror covering to make sure he didn't look like hell. He smoothed his sleep-mussed fur down to look nice and shut the covering. Whitestorm grabbed his backpack, ready to leave before his aunt could hound him about eating breakfast. He could tell she was awake but she was in the bathroom so he ran out the door, hearing her yelling at him that he needed breakfast if he was to do anything. He hadn't been going to school with breakfast in his stomach since 7th grade, it didn't bother him since he had the first lunch period of the day anyway.
Whitestorm walked the 5 blocks to his school, Stargone Community Highschool, or Shitgone as it was affectionately called. He regretted wearing a heavy hoodie on a day like today, it was 77 degrees out but then again, he did this every warm school season. He stood on the corner across the street from his school, waiting for the crossing guard to give the ok to cross the busy street in front of him. After the guard blew his whistle and held up a bright red stop sign, Whitestorm and the other kids gathered at the corner crossed into another long year of stress and all sorts of problems on the mind.