I wake up, feeling unusually restful.
Either today is Saturday or I’m extremely late…I look at my clock.
Yeah, I’m late. Great. Usually I have to wake up at 6:30 but today I accidently woke up at 7. Leaving me with 55 minutes until the first bell rings. Fifty-five minutes to go to the restroom, put on clothes, and get to school.
Why hasn’t my mom woken me up yet? Confused, I drag myself to my parent’s room. There’s the problem…my parents are still fast asleep.
I walk over to where my mom’s tired body still sleeps. I shake her and she mumbles something about dogs in a ball park.
Her eyes fly open.
“What time is it?!”
“It’s 7:10, Mom! You forgot to wake up!”
She runs to the restroom.
I run to my room.
I look into my closet for something to wear.
Darn! My old nemesis struck again.
The only jeans I have left are riddled with holes on the thighs and knees.
The only shirt I have left isa purple long sleeved shirt and a shirt I cut with broken scissors, thinking it would look cool.
I was terribly wrong.
So, I only have one choice.
I put on my jeans and the purple long sleeved shirt and slip on shoes.
I look at myself in the mirror. My jeans are tattered beyond repair but what can I do? No one wins on Laundry Day.
I speed-walk into the bathroom, do my bathroom routine and wait anxiously for my mom with my backpack hanging on my shoulder.
My mom jogs towards the key holder and off we go. We had 25 minutes to get to school. The traffic wasn’t cooperating with us today.
We made it with a minute till the bell. I had enough time to make it to first block. Barely.
I walk towards the 300 building and the whole time people are staring at my tattered jeans. I’m seriously going to ask my Spanish teacher for some tape. The bell rings.
Surprisingly, I’m first in class and thankfully my teacher is there.
She looks towards me and without me needing to explain, she hands me tape.
I sit in my desk, scratching where the tape is.
Everyone piles in and two minutes later the late bell rings.
As we go over the vocabulary, my teacher places her coffee cup on my desk as she tries to explain a vocabulary word.
Her hand flies forward and she knocks over the cup, leaving the liquid to splash all over my shirt and jeans.
My mouth falls open. I cannot believe this. My Spanish teacher says a chorus of ‘sorrys’. She hands me paper towels but the coffee has already soaked in.
“You can go to the restroom to dry your clothes.”
Still looking at my clothes with my mouth open I walk to the restroom, being careful not to drip on the floor.
Feeling so sorry for myself I dry my clothes under the hand dryer.
It’s twenty minutes before the bell and I’m already dying to get out of school.
We go over grammar and finally the bell rings.
The long walk to the portables is miserable with me trying to cover the huge spot of coffee on my shirt with my sweater.
I really don’t want to talk to anybody but Denver and Derese walk over.
“Don’t ask,” I mumble.
“Alright then,” Derese says.
Denver and Derese talk amongst themselves.
Math passes by fast with no incident, which I am grateful for.
The bell rings for Lunch A. I don’t even have an apetite.
I walk over to my table of friends. They ask about my mood and all I say is, “Bad Day.” They nod and don’t ask again.
My friend Thalia hands me a cookie. At first I don’t want it, but hey it’s a cookie. Just when I’m thinking of eating it, bird feces lands on the cookie. My friends gasp and I sigh. With a fork I push the cookie off the table. I sulk in my own corner in the table.
The bell rings and I walk with Monica to our Biology class.
When we get there we see squids on the lab tables surrounded by dissecting equipment. I didn’t even eat but something turns inside my stomach.
Ms. Jensen gives us the procedure hand-out and tells us to make groups of three. I’m with Monica and Fola on this one.
The first procedure is to find the “siphon” and squeeze it. Fola and I don’t dare touch the dead squid but Monica squeezes the siphon like no one’s business. Out of everywhere the juice could have gone it lands on my face.
I scream and run to the sink. I thoroughly wash my face.
Why is today blown out of proportion completely?
Monica says sorry for squeezing the siphon into my face.
We continue our dissection with me far from the slimy squid.
The bell rings and I walk to Folklorico. This is my longest walk so I think about all the bad things that have happened to me today. Waking up late, laundry day, coffee spilling on me, the bird poop, the squid. Could this day really get any worse?
Just as I’m thinking that I pass by the construction and a huge wind picks up, blowing a bunch of dirt into my face.
I rub my face clean with the sleeve of my sweater.
Right when I walk into my Folklorico class the bell rings.
My teacher tells us to put on our Folklorico shoes because we’re going to work on a new dance.
The only good thing that has happened to me all day.
I put on my shoes as the teacher explains to us that this dance requires a lot of stomping.
So, there we are stomping to the rhythm of the Spanish music.
After we’re done I look at my shoes and a nail has popped up on the side. All that stomping did a great deal on my shoes.
I try to be positive by thinking that I could easily take it to a shoe repair place and have them fixed. I smile to myself and the bell rings.
I walk the short way to my Journalism class.
I take out my book to relax myself. I read until the late bell rings and I say hi to my table friends. I already feel better.
We all work on our stories that are due the following week and gratefully nothing bad happens.
When the last bell rings I’m so happy this bad day is over. The whole time I’m hanging with my friends under the pavilion nothing happens.
Don’t you just hate those days?