Late for School

The alarm clock is blaring when I finally claw my way back to consciousness. Blindly pawing around the nightstand, I find the snooze button. Just five more minutes. When I finally pry my eyes open, it’s an hour later. Oh crap! I was turning into one major screw up. Obviously, mom was at the hospital again, or she would have been in here yelling at me 45 minutes ago.

I pull myself out of bed, still feeling the weight of the medication. I briefly consider calling mom and telling her I don’t feel well, but I know she doesn’t need the added stress right now. I promised I would get to school unsupervised, and that’s what I needed to do.

I’m trying to pull my thoughts together, when I hear the bus honking at the end of the driveway. Oh, awesome. I absently run my hands over my face as I consider my options. Then, I remember James.

Grabbing my composition book, I find his number. Didn’t he mention driving to school? I fumble for my cell phone and dial his number.

“Hello?” Even in the morning, his voice is relaxed and confident.

“James?”

“Yeah. Amber?”

“Um . . . Yeaaaah. I need a really big favor. Can you help me out?”

“Well, that depends.” His tone becomes a bit mischievous.

“I overslept . . . big time. Can you give me a ride to school?”

“Oh, is that all?” his voice returns to it’s usual nonchalance. “Of course.”

I express my gratitude in an exhale of relief.

After giving him my address, I agree to be ready in 20 minutes. Just enough time for a quick shower.

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