There's got to be something that's clean. She settled on wearing the black jeans. They weren't too bad; a little raggity, that and a t-shirt.
Almost six thirty the bus! Her stomach growled as pulled on the stiff sneekers.
Daddy's snores filled the hallway. Did he say to wake him? Guess not.
In the kitchen she ate a poptart, then grabbed her back pack and went outside walking down the driveway to wait for the bus.
A while later the bus came. Hate school so much. She walked down past the seats, each one had at least one other kid.
"Please move over, so I can sit."
The boy, Joey looked away.
"Move I have—other—to pick up!" The bus driver, Mr. Danson yelled.
Joey moved over enough for her to just fit half her bottom onto it. She looked down at the floor a heat flaring her cheeks. Hate you. Was best to keep quiet or he'd take the rest of the seat.
Mornings like this sucked, each bump on the road made it hard to say on the seat, she grabed the seat top in front, nuckles now white.
Most of the voices of other kids and teens were a mass of overlapping voices. One became louder then the rest.
"Hey, do—have HIV?" a kid poked her from behind. She ignored him.
"Hey, I'm talking—"
Great, now what? She turned, facing him.
He said it again. This sucked, trying to figure out just what the hell was said. Maybe it's a book? Or a game?
"No."
"—You positive?" he said.
She nodded.
"Ha-ha you have HIV!"
Huh? Have to ask Daddy later.
Her face heated up again. Whatever it was it was bad.
"Do not!"
The boy laughed at her, his friends joined in. She turned back around wiping the stupid tears off with the palm of her right hand.
Later the bus stopped at last at the school, she stood and got off as fast as the other kids would let her.
Inside the school Lana went straight to her locker and stared at the darn number lock. Hate this thing, what are the numbers again?
Most of the kids were gone by now. It finally opened she stuffed her backpack in it and took out several books.
She startled when Miss. Nelson's hand touched her shoulder.
"Late—class!" She frowned shaking her head and pointed to the class room down the hall before walking back.
Lana nodded, following.
The class dragged on forever, there wasn't any point trying to pay attention as this teacher always faced the chalk board when writing stuff, just have to hope she, doesn't erase it when she's done.
The teacher put the chalk down. Lana quickly wrote down everything she could. Phew, made it. The kids opened up their desks. She coppyed them. Peaking at one on her left: A science book.
She took that book out, closing the top of the desk and setting the book on in it. Hope she'll say what page again.
No such luck the kids already had the book open and were flipping to another chapter. Why'd this teacher have to whisper so much?
She leaned forward and snuck a look at the page Sara had open. 56. She fliped hers to the same and read it. Three chapters later the teacher handed out a work sheet. Finally, way easyer. She finished it just before they got up again, the vibrations of the floor alerting her.
Several classes and one lunch later time to finally go home. She found her bus and took the first empty seat and moved to the window. The bus filled up driving away.
Something bounced off her head.
And again.
She turned and a blond girl blew a spit ball onto her forehead.
"Stop it!"
"Opp—it!" The girl made mean looks, and pretend to cry.
Lana turned around and bit the inside her cheek. Not going to cry.
The meany head left her alone half way home. She ran up the driveway. Yay Friday! No school!
ns 15.158.61.16da2
