In Time Will It Come, Kaitlyn Garlets [classic novels to read .TXT] 📗

8:15 A.M. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Zora

I fall to the dirty tiled floor of the school hallway, landing on my butt. This happens everyday now, but I don’t care. Nothing can make me feel any pain—at least more than I am already. All around me, people my age are laughing at me, pointing at me because someone had tripped me on purpose. I ignore them and stand, picking up my belongings as I do stand without making eye contact with anyone. I used to make eye contact with them a long time ago, but it never did anything to help me out. So I stopped and always tried to stay out of everyone’s way so that I wouldn’t cause too much attention to myself. I wrap my arms around my books and my large binder that’s always over-filled with papers that I never toss out when I am done with them and watch the floor as I speed-walk away to my first class. I tune out all the laughs coming from behind me, trying to focus on breathing and walking. It’s hard to do those things all at once, but somehow I do.
Step. Breathe. Step. Breathe. Step. Breathe. Step. Breathe. Step. Breathe. Step. Breathe. Step. Breathe. Step. Breathe. Turn-breathe-left. Breathe. Step. Breathe. Step. Breathe. Step. Breathe. Enter.Breathe.

8:32 A.M.------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Zora

I end up in my second period class, making me have to backtrack to my first period class, all the way at the end of the opposite side of the school, causing me to be late for class. My day never starts out good, and it never ends well, either. I slip into my usual spot at the very back of the class, looking down the entire time until I do sit down. It didn’t take very long for people to start giggling behind their hands.
“Zora, come over here,” my teacher that I can never remember her name said to me. I look up from the desk and stand, trying not to listen to the giggling and whispering. I stand and make eye contact with the teacher and walk over to her. She hands me a late slip, which is the fourth this week. Which means that I now have a lunch detention. I turn away from her and head back to my seat. “Hold on, Zora.” I turn back around dramatically and wait by her desk until she hands me another piece of paper. I don’t read it. I turn again and walk to my seat where I slip into a semi-conscious space-out. I like these because I can tune everyone out, including everyone around me who is still laughing and whispering about me. I even look like I am paying attention, but really, I’m not.
I tune back in as the teacher walks up and down the isles. She finally makes it over to mine, and I have nothing out. She stops in front of my desk. “Zora? What are you doing?” She asks, bending down to see me considering that she’s at least two feet taller than me. I don’t answer and instead I grab my sketch pad out and start doodling in it. The teacher grabs it out of my hands and starts flipping through them.
“Hey!” I say, standing. I reach to grab my drawings, but she moves out of my way. “Please, give it back to me. That’s invading my privacy.”
The teacher stops flipping through the sketch pad and raises her eyebrow at me. “Oh, really? I thought it was okay considering that everyone that attends this school signed a contract stating that any staff or faculty members were allowed to search through any student’s belongings to make sure there isn’t anything that shouldn’t be in there. And this,” she stops and flips to one of my drawings. Everyone in the class bursts out laughing at what was drawn on the paper. I turn three shades of red and reach to grab it again. “This…is not something you should have at this school. I am confiscating it until further notice. Now get to work on your homework, or leave this classroom right now.” She turns on her heel and shoves my sketch pad into her draw—hard, probably making the pages bend.
I sit down, angry now. I don’t do anything about it, though. I open my textbook to the page that I am supposed to be working on and sigh on the inside and tune the giggles and whispers from my ears until the bell rings.

9:16 A.M.-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Zora

I walk to my locker, wanting to cry. No one has ever taken my sketch book away from me—ever. I didn’t know what to do without it. I have never let anyone look at it, not even my parents. Thankfully, my dad stopped trying to get me to tell him what interested me so much about drawing people, and he stopped talking to me totally, which I was glad of. My dad and I never got along very well, anyways, and when he would try to talk to me, we ended in fights. The only real things we say to each other now without getting into fights is, “How was your day?” my reply would be, “Fine.” And I would walk up to my room where I closed the door behind me and stay there until dinner.
“Awe…look at the cry baby opening her locker,” someone said as I yank the un-oiled locker door. I turn to see Megan Samson looking at her friends with a stupid smirk on her face. She starts laughing and everyone around her laughs a few seconds after she starts. “Do you miss your little brother?” She asks, mocking a little kid’s voice. She sticks her mouth out so her lips form an ‘O’. Everyone stares at them like they are the best thing in the world. I bet she uses those plump lips three times a day or more. No, scratch that. I bet she uses those whenever she can get a guy to get in bed with her. No, scratch that again. I bet she gets anyone, even some girls to use them. I almost smile, but I hide it well enough to just have a bored look on my face.
I turn away from her and wipe the tears from my face and grab my next class things and close the locker. When I do, Megan is on the other side of the door, her arm against another person’s locker. She’s smiling down at me, her evil smile that makes me want to vomit every time I see it. I look away and turn to head to my right, where my next class is. Megan grabs my free wrist and spins me around to face her.
“Let me go,” I say, not bothering to even try to get out of her strong grip. She raises her eyebrows and smiles wickedly at me again.
“Make me,” she says, making everyone around us laugh hysterically. I close my eyes, but I don’t move. “Well, are you going to make me, like you made your little brother pay for not doing what you wanted?” She laughs, making it ring loudly in my ears. My top lip quivers. She finally lets me go once she’s satisfied enough and I turn on my heel and run into the bathroom, slamming the only open stall shut, causing all the other stalls to shake violently, considering that the stalls were barely on the hinges.
“Hey! We’re trying to take a crap here!” a girl screams from the farthest stall away from me. I ignore her, letting the tears fall from my face. “Yeah, get the hell out of here, Fatso!” I’ve been called many names, but never Fatso. I have never been fat in my life. I’ve always been a skinny, small girl, boobless and all. I have ugly brown hair that never wants to be brushed and when I would brush it, it would always get super static-y or frizzy to where I would have to glob a ton of hair spray in it. That was way back when I actually cared about being popular and having a boyfriend. But now I don’t care about any of that.
Once I stop crying, and I am sure that no one else is in the bathroom stalls, I exit the small stall and make sure that I never looked like I was crying and I walk to my classroom across from the bathroom. I glance at the clock. Its nine-thirty-four. Which means that I am really, really late for class. I slip into my seat, feeling like this had just happened and I wait for the teacher to ask me to come up to her desk and hand me a detention slip. But she doesn’t.
Class goes by like nothing ever happened and I start to settle down with my anxiety. The bell finally rings after what seems like forever and I stand to leave. “Zora, can I see you please?”
I sigh lightly and head to the teachers desk. “Yes?” I ask.
“Can you tell me why you were late?” She asks, raising her eyebrow at me. My shoulders slump and I look at the floor. Tears spring to my eyes, but I blink them away. “Zora? Are you alright?”
I manage to nod, but it comes out like a no. “Not really,” I finally say. There really isn’t any need to say yes, everything is fine, when she can obviously see that I am not fine.
She stands and walks over to my left side, placing her hand on my shoulder. “Do you want to talk about it?” I shake my head. “That’s alright, I don’t blame you. You know that you can always come to me for anything, right?” I narrow my eyes a bit, but not enough for her to see it. I nod and turn to leave, but her grip on my shoulder tightens. I glance up at her and she smiles down at me, and I almost want to fall to my knees and tell her everything, but she wouldn’t understand. “You can go now,” she said and lets me go. I leave in a hurry.

12:00 P.M.-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Zora

I sit in my usual spot at lunch and eat fast so that no one would want to come up to me and pick a fight with me. I finish my PBJ sandwich and stand and almost bump into someone. I glance up to mutter an apology, even though I know that even that wouldn’t do anything to stop them from being mean to me. But when I do see who it is, I don’t say anything to him.
“Oh, I am so sorry,” he says. The new boy looks at me, and then glances down at the floor. “I don’t know anyone, and I was going to ask if I could sit by you. You looked all lonely. Is that okay?”
I sputter. What am I supposed to say to him? I don’t know him, and he wants to sit by me? Well, that’s a new one. Even when there is a new person, Megan or someone finds a way to tell them right away that I’m not one to hang out with and they always listen. I wonder why no one has talked to him about me yet. I guess it’s a good thing, but I don’t say that out loud. “Uh…this spot isn’t taken anymore, so you can have it now. I was just leaving.” I grab my trash from my lunch and toss it into the trash can next to where I had been sitting.