Beep! Beeep! Beep!
I pound the alarm with my palm.
My eyes softly drift open, but I form a fist and rub them to wake myself. Stretching my arms up, I realize how refreshed I feel. No headache like usual Monday mornings, no clicking the snooze until much too late to take a shower, and no throwing on sweatpants and a t-shirt at the last possible minute. Today, I’m not tired.
My eyes fall upon my pink bedazzled alarm clock that I received when I was twelve, and a sudden panic arrises within my stomach.
7:15.
7:15!
The bus comes at 7:30!
Why didn’t my alarm go off on time?
I thrust my body out of bed, shaking out of my pajamas. Folded on my dresser is a pair of jeans and my pink v-neck t-shirt, so I throw them on. My greasy hair begs for soap, but I sprint to my sink and scrub my face instead. A dirty towel sits on the floor, and I use it to dry my wet face. After slapping on a layer of makeup, I brush I teeth and search my bathroom for a ponytail. I have no time to deal with my rat-nest hair.
My mother greets me outside my bathroom door with my bookbag and Sperry’s.
Next, I‘m out the door, running to the big yellow bus threatening to pull away. I reach the open doors just in time.
“Hello Claire,” the bus driver says.
With a nod, I shuffle to the middle section, slumping in a seat next to my best friend.
“”Hey Claire,”she says, glancing at my pink shirt,” you look really cute today.”
“Oh, thanks.”