The sound of an automated bell signals thundering footsteps and a cascade of bellowing voices crashing down metal ramps. I can nearly feel the skin of my shoulders baking underneath the late August sun the moment I step out from the awning. Lively conversations blend with the whir of passing traffic into an uninterrupted track of background noise. Relief sets in as I watch the sidewalk go by beneath my feet. The first day is over and I’m finally sixteen; a new chapter begins. I walk with my head down and let the frenzied stimuli of my surroundings melt away into the background. I reach the crosswalk and let my mind wander as I wait for the light to turn. The day is anything but special. Who knows if the year will be. I imagine going home and sinking face-first into my mattress; melding to the wrinkles of the sheets with no imminent plans to get up.

The bell rings and I haphazardly shove my notebook into my backpack. It’s no surprise the flimsy cardboard edges are already beginning to fray. I squint against the sun as I follow the crowd outside. It’s only been a few weeks but I’m already longing for the colder months—the simple thought of wearing sweaters and corduroy pants is enough to make me smile at the asphalt. I would be smiling anyway. For once, it feels like my mind being in a million places at once is a good thing. I feel fluttery but not anxious; my jitters don’t make me sick to my stomach. I imagine soft hands grasping mine and sunset-illuminated walks in the sand. I play with my silver ring as I walk, watching the sun glint off its edges. I’m still smiling the rest of the way home.

As the clock ticks toward the long-awaited hour, the door swings open in front of me and I clomp down the ramp, my unsteady stride worsening the thumping of my new boots against the metal. The excitement of wearing sweaters faded almost as soon as it began. The grayness has set in and threatening dark clouds drift overhead. I’m surrounded by booming voices every day, but today it feels like more of them are shouting than usual. The cacophony of sound won’t fade away even as I look down at my feet. I’m conscious of every step, every time my heel hits the pavement with a click. I try to catch my breath as I slump forward at the crosswalk, hopeful that no one notices my mouth open in an attempt to swallow the air that everyone around me is draining from the atmosphere.

The clock ticks, the bell rings, and a symphony of steps streams out the door. Cool air whizzes through my ears and loose curls flutter at my temples. I stand alone at the curb, taking in the laughter and energetic conversations. I’m starting to feel more alone than ever. The sun is already low in the sky, hugging the ocean. It casts a soft glow over the sidewalk, the broken glass in the gutters shimmering. The wind carries me home as I hug myself against the cold.

It feels like the week should’ve ended yesterday but I’m still here. It doesn’t really matter. It feels like I’m barely even here because there’s only one thing I can think about. Warmth begins.

By Maya Page