Wearing vintage sunglasses, a thrift store leather jacket, and a headband adorned with cat ears, I busted out of school early with my best friend. We drove to the mall, rolling the windows down to feel the breeze and remind ourselves that we were still here, still alive, still functioning, somehow. After fluffing and stuffing two bunnies in bowties at Build-a-Bear and having a few go-arounds on the carousel, we went back to the parking lot of Wilton High School to unveil whether I had been accepted into college or not.
Five o’clock rolled around, and I found myself dawdling. With every second that passed I found another excuse not to look: I wanted to listen to the next part of Beyonce’s Partition, check Facebook to see if anyone had changed his or her profile picture, adjust my seat warmer to ensure my bottom was at the ideal temperature.