After Emma's mental breakdown, (she made a note to apologize for that later) she trudged through the rest of her finals, looking at the clock during every passing period. All she wanted to do was go home and watch some TV. Maybe she would take a nap.
Finally, it was time to pack up and leave, and Emma was relieved that she didn't run into Belle or Ruby again. She didn't know what she would say.
She pushed her way through groups of rejoicing friends, overly emotional couples, and intensely ecstatic teachers, trying to refrain from rolling her eyes. As she reached the door, a group of juniors trampled over her, eager to leave school. Her backpack was somehow off her back and thrown to the ground, her empty binders and half-used notebooks strewn all over the school steps. She cursed loudly as someone stepped on her hand with a heavy, dirty boot.
After the stampede had passed, she crawled to her backpack and picked up her things, hoping no cheesy dork would come and help her. She always hated cliche teen romance movies where the clumsy, lovesick girl would drop her stuff and be fascinated with her jock crush helping her pick up a pen. Thankfully, the school was nearly empty, so there were no such idiots to annoy her.
"Emma?" a voice sounded behind her.
Emma turned to see her mother toting a stack of paper and books.
"Oh, here mom, let me help you with that." Emma shouldered her newly full backpack and took the top half of the tipping stack.
"Thanks, honey. I didn't expect this much to take home." she said, readjusting the pile in her arms.
"I thought you didn't have classes today, since the seniors are gone." Emma remarked.
"Oh, well, after you left I decided to clean up my room for the year, and then Mr. Gold hurried in, saying that he heard I was here, and asked if I could substitute for Mrs. Lucas, since she ran off for a family emergency or something. Now I'm stuck grading her papers, too." she nodded at the stack in her hands.
Emma nodded. She wouldn't have noticed if her mother left for school, since all of her classes were in the afternoon and she didn't leave until after lunch.
"Did you fill out that application yet?" Mary-Margaret asked, spotting her car in the parking lot and walking towards it.
"Yeah, I did after my English final. Mr. Hopper nearly threw me out of class because he saw me writing after I turned in my final. Apparently, he said, he had to assume I was passing answers to another kid. As if I would help anyone else! I don't care if they graduate." Emma shrugged.
Mary-Margaret laughed, "So, did you get kicked out?"
"No. After I showed him what I was doing, he calmed down and said that he still 'had an eye on me'. That application was pretty short, though. Only my name, date of birth, stuff like that. The only work I had to do was write a few sentences on why I want to go." Emma said.
"What did you say? That your mother has been pestering you for years to go to one and you finally rolled your eyes and said, 'Fine'?" Mary-Margaret mimicked Emma's defeated look that morning.
"Of course not! Then they would never let me in. Instead, I wrote the most generic paragraph ever, stating that I wanted to become a better leader or whatever-"
"Or whatever?"
"You know what I mean, mom. Anyway, I think it's promising enough. When we get home I'll stick it in the mailbox." Emma said.
"The mailbox? This is the twenty-first century, Emma. We'll just scan and email it." Mary-Margaret shifted her pile of papers to one arm to unlock the car.
"Oh, okay. But before we do that, you need to sign it and write down my insurance info." Emma carefully set her stack in the backseat.
"Insurance? What will you be doing?" Mary-Margaret set her stack down next to Emma's.
"I don't know. Some water stuff, I think." Emma said.
"Well, just promise me you won't get hurt so I don't have to pay an outrageous hospital fine, okay? Now get in the car, aspiring leader." Mary-Margaret slid into the driver's seat.
Emma ducked into the passenger seat and threw her backpack on the floor, shutting the door. Mary-Margaret started up the car, pulling out of the parking lot.
She then noticed something, "Emma? What's that on your hand?"
Emma looked down at it, sighing when she saw a bruise spreading across her knuckles, "Some stupid junior stepped on it today. I didn't know boots could weigh half a million freaking pounds. He didn't apologize or even look back."
"I'm sorry, honey. We'll get that checked out at home. Who was he? Maybe I'll accidentally slip up and he'll fail his final." Mary-Margaret shrugged.
"You wouldn't do that, mom. Besides, I had no idea. Some long-haired, C-average, cigarette smoking kid, I bet." Emma scoffed.
"Probably. About half of my classes meet those descriptions." Mary-Margaret laughed.
The car was silent for a while, and the scenery outside flew by, with the occasional group of friends out for the summer. Emma tapped out a rhythm on her jeans, humming out a melody in her head. She had always been interested in music, and had played the drums since she was in second grade. She had never joined the band, though. That gave her a "geek" reputation, and she had worked hard to keep herself at a steady neutral.
"You know, you don't really have to go to that camp if you don't want to, Emma." Mary-Margaret said.
Startled, Emma looked over at her mother, surprised at the remark. "Oh, yeah, it's fine. It'll give me a chance to get out of Storybrooke for a while anyway. I'm not at the best of terms with Ruby and Belle right now. Maybe I'll meet some new nerdy friends or something."
"That's the spirit! We can even go out of town this weekend and get you some new clothes or stuff like that." Mary-Margaret was obviously pleased at her daughter's response.
Her mother's optimism rubbing off on her, Emma felt better the rest of the way home.