I wake up to sharp beep that comes with my annoying alarm clock. I slam down a fist on the off button; thankful when the sound stops. I push myself up, its no use ignoring the fact that I have to get up. Looking out the window only showed that the sun is still not out. 6:00 o'clock in the morning. 'You were never a morning person' my mother would always tell me. I shake my head trying to clear my thoughts, but they don't go very far. I can still see that day; she laid in the morgue... Her husky blue eyes the same color of mine closed. Her face the palist I've ever seen. Her long blond hair unnaturally down. A white cover placed over her body with her feet, arms, neck, and face left showing. I keep trying to convince myself she's just sleeping, just like a child would do, even though I'm sixteen. I feel a tear run down my cheek as I come back to reality, I quickly brush away the tear from my face. Stop dilly dallying I tell myself you have to get ready.

I get dressed into a dark blue tee and black jeans. I comb my wave hair and put a little lipstick on, I feel that people should go for who you are not how you look. I got lost trying to find the kitchen also running into boxes on the way. New house, new school, new memories isn't that what happens when your mother is murdered and your parents were divorced. With mom gone and dad in the military I have the house to myself. I'm sure all kids my age would love a house all to themselves. Not me. I would kill to have someone to talk to.

I grab a blueberry yogurt out of the fridge and start eating it as I grab a set at the table and eat in silence. I hate the quiet, but if I was going to turn on the tv all I would hear was about my mom's murder, and I don't think I could take it. I look at the stove's clock and it reads 6:20. Great ten more minutes till I have to catch the bus and begin a the first journey of a new school, new city, new humiliations. Every time we moved to a new city (which isn't that often) my mother would always say that every first day at a new school is a new chance at everything. But she's not here to tell me that this time and I feel a little bit of sadness fill my chest. I get up from my chair and throw out my empty yogurt cup.

Putting on my black jacket with white sleeves I get a strong whiff of detergent. I walk over to the dark brown recliner and grab my blue and green checkered messenger styled backpack, my blue and white striped house key, and walk out the door. Instead hit with the cold winter air. The ground covered in fresh powdered snow, something I'm not use to seeing from mostly living in the more southern part of Georgia. I guess the only thing that Georgia and New York have in common is they're both on the east coast. My long hair blowing back in the wind as I keep walking.

I stand at the street corners for about five minutes before the bus comes down the street. Bus 59 comes to a stop right in front of me and the doors open. Well here goes nothing I tell myself as i walk up the steps to get on the bus.