Waking up for School
957 Words
Gabriella
Ugh. I hate waking up early.
My alarm buzzes and I groan, rolling onto my side, staring at the ceiling like it personally betrayed me. First day back. First real day back. My head still feels strange sometimes in the mornings — like my thoughts are a second behind where they’re supposed to be.
I push the feeling away.
My boyfriend will be here soon, which means I need to get moving.
I stand in front of my closet, arms crossed, trying to remember what I usually wear. That thought alone makes my chest tighten. I know who I am… mostly. It’s just the details that feel slippery, like trying to hold water in my hands.
Jeans. Band tee. Black Converse. Safe. Familiar. Me.
I grab my jean jacket too. It’s still hot during the day, but once the sun dips — especially during practice — the air cools fast. Sharp. Real.
Coach already warned us there’d be no mercy this year. First day back or not, he wants us in shape if we’re making it to finals. No easing in. No grace period.
I sling my bag over my shoulder, grab an apple, and head outside.
Kyle texted me earlier — something dumb and dramatic, probably involving glitter or gossip — but he couldn’t give me a ride. Typical Kyle. Still, he’s the only one who stayed. The only one who didn’t look at me differently after everything.
I wait by the curb.
His sports car pulls up, music low, window down. He steps out with that same confident smile, running a hand through his blond hair, like he knows people are watching.
“Hello, beautiful.”
“Hi, baby,” I smile back.
He kisses me and pulls me into his chest, arms tight, possessive. He’s warm. Solid. Familiar in a way that feels practiced. He smells like cologne and confidence.
He’s the school’s star quarterback. Wrestling after football season. Everyone knows him. Everyone has an opinion.
Everyone thinks we make sense.
We head toward the car—
And then I hear it.
The roar of a motorcycle ripping through the street.
My stomach drops before my brain catches up.
I don’t have to look.
Raven Rider.
That sound hits something in me that doesn’t have words. Something old. Something I can’t quite reach no matter how hard I try.
Her last name fits her too well. She’s the school’s rebel — reckless, untouchable, magnetic. Everyone knows her. Everyone talks about her. And every girl she hooks up with has the same story.
Amazing. Intense. Over.
She’s infamous. Knows exactly what to say, what to do, how to make someone feel seen — even if it’s only for a moment.
I’ve heard the rumors. Bathroom stalls. Empty classrooms. Moans echoing down hallways teachers pretend not to hear.
I tell myself they don’t matter.
I’m not gay. I’ve never been. I have a boyfriend. A future.
So why does my chest tighten every time I see her?
Why does my pulse kick up like my body recognizes her before my mind does?
Raven wasn’t always like this. Kyle told me that once — how she used to be student government, good grades, ambition pouring out of her. Then something happened sophomore year.
No one knows what.
All anyone agrees on is that her dad died.
After that, she changed.
We stop for coffee, our usual place. And of course — she’s there. Leaning against the counter, flirting shamelessly with the barista like it’s second nature.
“Man, that girl is such a player,” my boyfriend mutters.
“She’s not that much of a player,” I say, distracted.
He scoffs. “You’re joking, right? She flirts with a different girl every day.”
“So?” I ask. “What’s your point?”
His jaw tightens. He looks away.
I glance back at Raven.
She’s beautiful in a way that doesn’t feel fair — curls slicked back, a jagged scar beneath her eye no one ever asks about. Something about it makes my chest ache, like I’m forgetting something important.
She catches me staring.
Smirks.
Leans in close to the barista, whispers something — then looks straight at me and winks.
My heart stutters. Heat coils low in my stomach.
She hasn’t said a single word to me… and somehow she’s already undone me.
She grabs her iced coffee and a small brown bag, slips on her helmet, and walks out.
When we pull up to order, the barista smiles.
“It’s already been paid for.”
“Paid for?” I blink.
“She said it was taken care of.”
By Raven.
My boyfriend doesn’t say anything. His grip on the steering wheel tightens.
“She’s not so heartless after all,” I murmur.
We get to school, and there she is — leaning against her bike like the world bends around her.
Something pulls at my chest. Harder this time.
“I’m going to thank her,” I say, opening the door.
“No, you’re not,” he snaps.
“It’s polite—”
“I don’t care,” he cuts in. “You’re not going.”
That tone. Sharp. Final.
Something in me bristles.
“You don’t get to tell me where I can and can’t go,” I say, stepping out.
“If you do, we’re done!” he shouts.
I don’t look back.
Coffee in hand, heart racing, head buzzing in that familiar, foggy way, I walk toward Raven.
Maybe she’ll say something.
Maybe she’ll smile at me again.
Or maybe my body remembers something my mind still can’t.
Either way… I don’t think this first day back is going to be as simple as I hoped.
- Writer
