"We're all a little weird. And life is a little weird. And when we find someone whose weirdness is compatible with ours, we join up with them and fall into mutually satisfying weirdness - and call it love - true love." (Robert Fulghum)
Moving...
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I desperately drag the suitcase after me, taking care not to scratch it from the impact with the stairs, which I rush down. Five minutes. I adjust my hood, positioning it just enough to cover my ears, then pull my gloves on until they're tucked perfectly under the sleeves of my not-too-thick, but windproof jacket. Sometimes I wonder why I don't choose the right winter clothes, I always end up buying clothes that I like the way they look rather than ones that would actually keep me warm and I shouldn't be freezing cold, as I will in a few seconds. Four minutes. I should stop thinking so much and take action, because right now time is really costing me. I open the door with difficulty, because I have to carry a suitcase by myself, a colossal backpack on my back and a bag on one shoulder. Not to mention that winter clothes are always a hindrance to my fluidity of movement, as I always have to wear thick tights, socks and pants, and this combination doesn't allow me to bend my knees well, so my legs look like two logs.
I step outside into the wind that attacks my cheeks like sharp blades and the cold that reaches my bones, seeping through the parts that are unintentionally bare, like the wrists that are exposed because my gloves are big. I forgot mine at home, so I had to borrow Raine's indefinitely, who apparently has gorilla hands. Or do I have too frail and thin hands. Three minutes. I literally throw myself into the cold, trying as much as possible not to be affected by the negative temperature, and run towards the station, which, fortunately, is not very far from here. I drag the suitcase through the snow, struggling more to keep it in the air so as not to accumulate too much snow on it, because it doesn't come off that easily. It would make it even harder for me, and I'm pressed for time. I keep running, spotting the bus through the trees overwhelmed by the piles of snow lying on their branches, serving as a crown for winter. The weather was milder when I accompanied Harlyn and Raine, but in the meantime it started snowing, so the temperature quickly dropped a few degrees.
I look at the clock, praying that it's not yet time to leave and I miss the bus by a whisker. Two minutes. I pass the open gates of the boarding school, then I nod towards the guard, a very gentle and respectful man to those who respect him in return. I remember how often he gets into fights with students like Natalie or her friends, or even Hale, who acts like a superior race. While he ignores me, in the sense that he doesn't ask for any information when I leave the premises, people like the above are interrogated more like a lie detector. It was my source of amusement more than once.
I notice Zayden is on the front steps, blocking the door and reaching out to pull me towards him. I smile at him, trying to hide my surprise at his unusual gesture. I hold his hand for a few seconds, long enough to climb in and hand the ticket to the driver, then let go cautiously, looking around long enough to see if Lance, or maybe even Hale, is in the first few rows. The method of payment is slightly non-conformist, I have never met another bus in which I needed to buy a ticket, which I have to hand over when boarding. I usually put money on a card at a counter, then I pay with it. This bus is more special of its kind.
