The minutes dragged on and on until lunch, I was exhausted, I hadn't met anyone new and I was bored out of my mind. It was a weird situation, I wanted so badly to leave, to get away from these social freaks, but I didn't want to go home, and I didn't want to end up practically jobless like Kirsty, I had to focus. I kept telling myself that at regular 5 minute intervals, but it was no use. Finally I gave up in fourth period, I tilted my face down to the singed, old, chem textbook, and felt my heavy head collapse into my hands. The words didn't make any sense, or at least they wouldn't have done if I had tried to read them, so I let my eyes frost over and my brain go blank, I sat for ages, thinking of nothing but sweet dreams of freedom, and happiness, love and marriage, an elegant, white dress, floating softly by my side, I saw his handsome face proudly place the ring on my finger, and we kissed, the guests applauded and, sat, hand in hand in the front pew, were my mother and father, smiling through tears of pride. Then I had a husband and a daughter, I imagined our lives together, I felt beautiful, I felt complete, it was a hot summers day, the baby's first birthday, we were sat in the garden with her, Lily Rose was her name, she had a beautifully soft, creamy complexion and her fathers dazzling eyes, then all her grandparents arrived, it was a merry day, full of smiles and happiness. Then she began to grow up. At six, her soft brown ringlets dropped over her eyes, now curls, her dazzling eyes now full of sparks, her skin just as soft, and pinched with pink at the cheeks. At 15 she was stunning, laughter that sounded like the gentle tinkle of bells and rang through the ears of many a young boy, long after she had left. Her sparky eyes full of wonder, amazement and innocence. Her long brown locks fell scruffily over her shoulders, messed up by her frolicking at the park with her friends, but she was still beautiful, even with grass stains on her t-shirt and her hair bow slightly askew. At twenty she was everything she could have been, clever, funny, kind and beautiful, her tall, slightly unbalanced frame seemed to float as she ran across the room to catch a falling plant pot, knocked off balance by her clumsy arm before, and at 25, her figure wandered contentedly up the isle, dressed head to toe in a silky, laced garment, perfectly suited to her person, arm in arm with her father, slightly more grayed than all those years before, but overwhelmingly proud to be waltzing such a woman up the church as his daughter. She had a son at 27, adorable and handsome, and I saw myself as a grandmother, happy and wrinkled, smiling through tears of pride at what I had helped to create. Then, with a loud crash, my head fell heavily onto the table and I awoke with a start. Feeling the embarrassment burn my cheeks red, I carefully rested my head back into my hands and I let my mind wander through reality. It was astounding that I was sat there at all, I'd been in and out of hospital loads, any normal child would be begging to stay home. But I wasn't normal, I knew that. Just like I knew I would never fit in, just like I knew I everything was so wrong, just like I knew, deep down inside, that I shouldn't have seen any of the things I had seen. But I also knew, that I had seen them, and that counted for a lot. If only there was a way around it, around it all. Around the struggles of Kirsty, around the struggles of loneliness, around the struggles of pain, around, well, life? For me, I thought, oblivious to the now vacant classroom, everything was a struggle, no, I snorted to myself, that's an understatement! There must be something out there for people like me, we can't be totally useless, could we? Everything happens for a reason, no?
"Vanessa? Is that," some shuffled footsteps broke my trance "You? Are you alright?" I looked up to see the kind lady from that morning wrestling through waves of un-tucked chairs, through the room towards me
"Oh, yes i'm, err, i'm fine, just tired... I, err, must have fallen asleep or, err something, i'll just go to lunch?" I struggled to stand hastily, piling all my belongings together and stuffing them in my bag, but it was too late, she reached over and gently rested her pale, chubby hand on my shoulder, pushing me back on my seat. I didn't need her talking to me now, I just wanted to run out into the sun and never come back. But I couldn't, she sat on the creaky wooden stool beside me and set down the book she had been carrying.
"Honey, I think we need to talk, I know it's all a bit over whelming, but this is your future, the Professor said you zoned out right at the beginning of the lesson but he hadn't the heart to wake you, this can't go on you know love," she paused, pursed her lips and stared into my face, as if looking for something she began to speak again but a thick, scotch voice pierced the still room
"Mary? Mary I know ye up 'ere, ye cannae keep shyin' awa' fram theses papers, they need signin'. Mary! Where an earth are ye? It's bin three weeks an' the reports arenae on mah desk!"
She sighed, stood and headed away, just before she reached the door she stopped, froze and whispered in a low voice "I said watch your back" Then she shivered, stood tall, and hurried out into the corridor, leaving the book behind in front of me, shocked, I sat still for a moment, then looked solemnly at the book. It's crinkled cover was made of leather, but it was very well worn, so well in fact, that the gold lettering from the title had come off completely, leaving only a faint print where the authors name sat, Abbie Mae Scott. I lifted the book wearily into my hands, and stared blankly at it, it was just a book, what was I expecting to find? Well looking back I sure wish I never set eyes on it, but as I said, everything happens for a reason... right?