Forgotten Wind: Disclosed Memories

PART I My alarm clock buzzed loudly as I laid in bed, still asleep. Every morning that sound annoyed me more than having to get up for school, but I tolerated it since it helped me wake up at a certain time so I wouldn't miss the bus. As I began to get out of bed and stretch, I noticed a gleam of light from the corner of my window. I pulled the curtains slightly and just saw the old streetlight that flickered every now and then at a usual time. I looked at my clock as the time read 5:30 am. I quickly went over to the other side of my bed and spread my clothes out on my bed that I was going to wear today. I then walked to the bathroom to brush my teeth. Every morning, I gazed at my reflected appearance that stood in the mirror of the bathroom. My fair brown skin, chocolate eyes, and dark hair were just standard. I also had a height of 5 feet and 8 inches, as it was a mere height for a teenager such as myself. After brushing my teeth and getting dressed, I headed into the kitchen to make my grandmotherś coffee. I went to the pantry and took out the coffee, creamer, sugar and set them on the counter. I poured her coffee cup with hot water I had boiled on the stove and put a teaspoon of coffee in and began to stir. The water became dark as I knew I put enough coffee in. After making her coffee and setting it in the microwave for her to drink later, I went back to my room and grabbed my jacket and backpack, along with my drawstring bag that I kept additional clothes in. I turned my tv off and turned off my room light as I went to the living room to wait for the bus, even though the bus didńt come for another forty minutes. I opened the door and saw my cousin getting out the truck his mother drove him in and head toward the door. I greeted him with a good morning and he replied the same as he did every morning. He sat down on the couch and closed his eyes, the same way he did every time he came to wait for the bus. Sometimes, he would be awake, but I knew he felt rather sluggish in the morning time. I turned on the television in the living room and turned straight to the news, wanting to know todayś forecast and weather. Instead, there was an amber alert announcement for a missing 15-year-old girl. "She was last seen last night with a 35-year-old male with black dreads, dark brown eyes, and a beard. If you see these two, you are to contact the police immediately.." The news came on shortly after that. The time was now 6:21 am. I heard a flush from the first bathroom down the hall and it was my father. His face was a drowsy expression as he was in a slumped over the position. "Morning, dad," I said to him. He didn't reply. He just went back to the couch and pooled the covers back over him. I could feel the wind nipping at my face as I stepped outside for a few minutes. Standing on the front patio, I felt the cold temperature take away the warmth of my body thus filling my senses with cool, nostalgic, frost. I closed my eyes, my sight and mind were overtaken with the refusal to acknowledge anything else but the chilling, hasting thoughts that were once exempt from my life. As I stood there with my mind in a rose-colored state, I suddenly heard a loud noise. It was a sound I had so previously heard, aside from all the trucks and cars that would pass by on the street. I opened my eyes and saw the bus from the road beginning to make its usual turn to pick us up. It was the same old bus that I had been riding since my first year of ninth grade. The bright yellow color on it had now faded to a dusty orange-yellow complexion. It honked while it drove down my street, indicating us to walk to it. I told my cousin the bus was here and we began walking to the bus. The cold air came hard at my face, making my lips and eyelids feel frozen. I walked onto the bus as my gym bag dangled off the left strap of my backpack as I carried it. After saying good morning to our bus driver, who we called "coach", I sat down in my familiar seat and looked out the window like I always did. I usually wondered why the students called him "coach". Maybe we called him that because back then he probably used to be a gym coach or someone who taught P.E. My hunch was that he used to teach basketball. I continued to look out the window as we passed by houses. Houses I hadn't seen before away from my part of the neighborhood. Several questions always came into my mind when I wondered, "Who lives there? Who do they live with? What is their life story?" The questions in my mind were surpassed by my own fabrications. It never seemed to bother me sometimes, especially the part where I never let it manifest me. To me, it just came to be relatively audacious. Time passed by in the morning after we picked up the rest of the others and made our way to the school. Sunrise was beginning to come out of the fog that shifted away. It was early so that never seemed to bother me as I was the particular kind of person who got up around 4:00 am. As usual on school mornings, when we got to the school, we'd have to wait seated on the bus until the administrators made sure that all the buses were on time. There were two places we could go when we got off. The auditorium and the cafeteria. The cafeteria would usually be crowded and loud during the morning time. Plus, if you wanted breakfast then you'd have to wait in these long lines that seemed to stretch for miles. As for the auditorium, I really couldn't insert and contradictions. When I went inside the school, I turned right like always and headed down the hall that split into two directions as I went down further. The "rainbow hallway" (as the students called it) and the shortcut to the main office and cafeteria, and just between that was the entrance to the auditorium. This school was so big that I thought I would keep getting lost until I reached my senior year. I continued walking down, looking at the same painted colors of our school's pride: the dark maroon color with white trims and dark-reddish borders. I made my way into the auditorium when I noticed one of the school administrators, Mr. Watson, standing near the stage in the auditorium with his head down as he glared at his cellphone. His face showed an expression of paranoia. He quickly looked up at me and I subtly turned away. I walked to a chair a sat down. I could still feel his daunted gaze towards me. The rest of the students walked in a few minutes later and sat down. Every morning I sat in the auditorium at the bottom row with my arms crossed and my head turned away as I waited patiently for the administrators to tell us to go to class. A boy sat beside me and I quickly turned my head down, refusing to make eye contact. I was very introverted to an endless extent in my life. My family would always tell me to get out of my room and be more social but for some reason I couldn't let go of my shy personality, being the very reticent person I was. As soon as they told us to go to the first period, everyone got up and rushed out the doors quickly. I saw everyone walking together in their own cliques, talking to each other as I usually had no one to talk to. I always walked by myself down the hall, along with nobody. I approached my first class which was Digital Enterprises. I was very intelligent, so I can say without a doubt that I had very skilled knowledge along with my grades. My proficiency was excellent. PART II Coming into the classroom, I took my seat and logged into my computer like I did every morning. If we had nothing much to do for first period, I'd take out my books and write a story or a song. Most of my life, that's what I wanted to be: A writer and artist, plus a songwriter. Okay, maybe not a songwriter so much but I think you get the idea. The morning announcements had started shortly after with the morning joke, school news, and upcoming sports info. We said the pledge of allegiance and began with our assignment from Ms. Sanderson. Ms. Sanderson was a positive, stoic person who always came off as affirming to us. She expected to make the best grades possible in her class and by doing so, we had excellent grades. Well, at least most of us did. After that period ended, it was onward to my second class: Foods I. The teacher was Ms. Morgan, who was one of the teachers that I liked the most. I could tell she was very experienced to culinary, given as I saw her culinary arts degrees hanging on the wall. Today, we were making chicken enchiladas. Today was National Hispanic Heritage Month so Ms. Morgan thought that it'd be a nice idea to share the customs of Latin food cuisines with the class. After everybody came in, she told us to dress out into our cooking clothes, grab our aprons, wash our hands, put on our hairnets, and go in the kitchen. This was the second week we were cooking and I became familiar with the kitchen already. There were a large blue and white mesh curtain that separated the two halves of the room. The rest was self-explanatory as in the way lots of people have already seen a chef's kitchen. Before the week we first started cooking, we were assigned into groups and each person had a different task that was to be done in the kitchen. I was given the role of assistant manager in group 3 and I usually just washed the dishes. It was hard but I've gotten pretty used to it, I guess. After everybody else was done, I was left with a pile of dishes that needed to be washed but I finished it under the time that we were supposed to go to lunch. After the bell rang, I took off my apron and gloves, washed my hands, and grabbed my backpack as I prepared to walk to the cafeteria. I turned out the door and went through the crowded hallway of numerous, hungry students. As I came into the cafeteria, I saw most of them already arrived earlier. The smell of the food came towards me as I walked in. I came to the lunch line and waited for my lunch. After I took my tray, I went to the table where I and Joe always sat since last year. Oh, right. I didn't mention him. Well, Joe is my husky, humorous friend. He was cordial and always made me laugh when I was feeling down. His other two friends, Yasmine and Qua'Lifriaqui'sha'niquia came and sat down also. I liked them. Yasmine seemed naturally friendly and congenial while Qua'Lifriaqui'sha'niquia had highly observant interests about other things. Lunch had ended about ten minutes later which meant that it was time to go to the 3rd period. My favorite period of all. Personal Finance. The teacher who taught that class was Ms. West. I always respected her principles and standards that she had inset for us. This class always peaked my interests, learning how to manage money and financially consolidate my future. After she began teaching the class, she passed out our notes for us to copy from the online PowerPoint she posted. For me, it was easy and a little disturbing. I always sat at the end of the classroom wall, horizontally from three other students. I didn't know the boy's name who was on the other side, but I knew the other two student's names. Ashley and Elliot. Whenever I wrote down my notes, I always felt them staring at me for no complete reason. I would hear them say things about me. Things that I tried to tolerate from time to time. The insults would sometimes be, ¨Why does he look so creepy?¨, or ¨Is he really like that?¨ They would often glance quickly at me and I would hear them snicker. I ignored them and went on with my notes. After the time passed by, I made my way to my 4th period. It was Physical Science, the class that I took the most time to work in.