The next morning, I jumped into the shower and winced. The scars from last night were paining really badly, but I just held on and bared with it.
Finally, I finished my breakfast and climbed onto the bus. Our neighborhood has two sections (the more expensive homes in the center, and surrounding it were the normal homes) and one bus for both.
Why the expensive homes are in the center, I don't know. To be honest, I think it's so the rich kids can feel like the center of the universe.
As I sat down, I quietly waited for the next stop, which was the stop I hated the most and liked the most. I mentally prayed, "Please, God. Please do me a favor and make sure that Saxton isn't here today."
My best friend Lizzy gets on at this stop, so that's why I like it. She is lives in an expensive home, but she is as nerdy as me because she's a Whovian, otaku (extreme anime lover), and hella smart.
I didn't need a warning to know that God didn't listen to me, and that Saxton WAS in fact here. I could just hear his girlfriend Talia's annoying, girlish giggling and his stupid not-even-funny jokes.
Why the hell do they even take the bus when they have Mustangs and Ferraris parked in their driveways? Oh I know, THEY WANT TO MAKE MY LIFE HELL!!!!
As he navigated through the aisle to his throne-like seat in the back, he threw me a sinister wink and said, "Hey devil. Haven't joined a gang yet, have you Mexican?"
"I-I'm not Mexican. I'm P-Puerto Rican. G-G-Get y-your facts straight." I stammer.
I promise you, I'll never forget that burst of anger I felt when I heard his evil voice mutter, "Adios, Señorita!" In a full blown American accent.