Beep! Beep! Beep! The persistent cry of my alarm forces my peaceful body into consciousness. Monday mornings are always hard, but dragging myself out of my haven of warmth and comfort was exceptionally difficult today. The first day of school always makes it somewhat worse. First impressions count for a lot – and I never make a good first impression. I stand and rake my fingers through my hair, sighing deeply. Well, first day of school; don't want to be late, I think to myself sarcastically.
I stood under the warm stream of the shower; eyes closed and wondered with great reluctance whose death dates I would determine today. I wondered this same thing every morning, while standing under the gushing tap, wishing the water would wash away this horrible 'power' of mine. Living my life was very depressing. Everywhere I went, I was reminded of the reality that we all had to die one day. I longed to live a normal life, to not have the morbidity of death creep around at them at every corner.
I looked at myself in the mirror. It stared back at me haughtily. For a long time I've wondered why I can't see my own death date. I look into my eyes all the time. And suddenly it hits me; When I look into the mirror I am not looking into my eyes – I'm only seeing a reflection. I wonder if there's a difference, but shake it off anyway. I grabbed a brush and dragged it through my hair, it so that it almost covers my face – and my eyes. The less I can see the better. My motto in life. I roll my eyes. I gaze into the mirror, and tell myself the day will be over as soon as it started. This didn't cease the nervous jitters inhabiting my stomach, though.
I ran downstairs to prepare Charlie's breakfast. The man admits me to live under his roof, I owe him that at least, excepting the fact that he is my father.
I watched Charlie eat his breakfast, thinking with dread about the school I would be attending. I sensed something was going to happen today, but I couldn't quite put my finger on it, and the butterflies in my stomach refused to dissipate.
A tiny bud of bravery sprouted within me and I decided to drive myself to school today. I wouldn't usually venture to do this, but Charlie got me this great new truck. It was ancient, was scattered with many rust spots, and admittedly exerted a lot of noise. But it was mine. And I had a deep and loving attachment to it.
On the drive to school, I prepared for the worst. I knew the name callings wouldn't be hurled at me immediately, but once people began to realize that I wasn't 'normal', they would take every opportunity to slap me in the face with it. I knew that despite this, I would just have to 'take it like a man' and my mother would say. Thinking of Renee brought some comfort. She somehow always knew how to cheer me up. With her ditsy ways and ludicrous ideas, you couldn't be sad for long.
Before I knew it, I arrived at the school. Well, I thought, here goes nothing, as I stepped out of the car hesitantly.