Scarred: Bit 2

Well, peoples, congratulations. You have somehow managed to please my never-ending hunger for pageviews and comments. Just a little. Especially since I learned that there is something wrong with the commenting application. I will proceed to send an angry letter to Google. Anyhow, here is the second tidbit.



Scarred: Bit 2

August 26^th, 2010

My backpack weighed me down as I walked to the subway from school. It was only the fourth week since I had started ninth grade, but already I was loaded down with homework and books. And the fact that I had decided to take all the AP classes that I was qualified for – and that meant all of them – didn’t help either. I had gotten my ticket from the electronic ticket dispenser and was walking to the restrooms when a boy about my age rudely bumped me and told me off for it, too. “Sheesh!” I thought to myself. I quickly felt my pockets, too. And, no kidding, my wallet was missing. Already, though, he was out of sight, so I decided to give it up. With a New York subway station, you can forget about trying to find anyone without a set location. Really, though, all that was in there was three bucks and a half-decent picture of me.

After a trip to the restroom, I went out to the lobby to wait for my train. When it got here I got my stuff and made my way out to the platform. In the crowd I saw the same young man from the restroom. “What, is he a stalker or something?” I muttered to myself. Double threat, wow. Probably not, he just had the same train, but I tend to over-exaggerate a lot, it comes with being a writer. As I was debating approaching him and causing a scene over less than five dollars worth of possessions, the train pulled in and a voice over the PA announced that the passengers should start filing into the train in an orderly fashion. I make my way to an empty seat near the back. I like the back because it’s more peaceful and gives me a chance to think. That might come in handy with all that homework I’ve got tonight. But guess who apparently likes the back, too? Rude, stalker, pickpocket boy. What is it with him? I seriously consider moving to a seat in the front, no matter the noise. But, too late, the train has already started moving. With the situation I was in, i could already make up a fake scenario. If this was a fantasy, I would be totally smooth in reproaching him, making him give me my wallet back. Then he would, but later, I would discover that he kept my picture, and on one of my dollars, he had scribbled his number, along with a "Call me :)" note. And then.... "Oh, shut up, Serena," I tell myself. I'll never be some guy's dream. I'm a total nerd. Well, at least I could stick with what I'm good at.

When the teacher teaches you the whole periodic table of elements in class yet sends you home with homework that covers mitochondria that very same day, homework proves to be quite a challenge. I have no idea why I qualified for AP Science. I suck at it. I regret – and not for the first time, either – why in the world I had decided to take all AP classes. Ugh! It goes without saying I’m totally brain-dead by the time I’m done with all that homework. The train’s not even to my stop yet, so I take out my iPod to kill time. Soon, I nod off to a point halfway between consciousness and unconsciousness.

So, whadya think? I'm not the best at knowing where to stop to provide a successful cliffhanger, though, so this was the best I could do.