Dodging Bullets

I sit down on the bus in my usual seat, headphones plugged in, drowning out the engine noise as the bus drives away from the curb. I lean my head against the window, bobbing up and down as the bus hits the speedbumps. 

It arrives at our school, and I tag off my bus card and walk in carefully. Walking in carefully, as I find, seems to be a terrible idea, as in the first five minutes, I still have to dodge four punches (none of them meant to hit me, but...), a locker door opening onto me, a couple kicks to the shins and a shove into the door.

Despite all of these attacks, I manage to make it out unharmed. And  haven't even made it to the front doors to the school yet. I sigh, and carry on dodging attacks.

Eventually, I make it to maths, my first session on a Friday. I always sit in the back to the class to avoid being called on by the teacher, Mrs Gantslog. I know, she's got a weird name, but say that and you'll be suspended for weeks. She's the strictest teacher in the school, and, somehow, I wound up with her for maths, my worst subject.

I sit in the back for every class. It makes it easier to stay under the radar. I do that with every class I have that day, and with lunch. By the end of the day, I am exhausted but ready to go home to a weekend of fun. I can guarantee that, because tomorrow is my birthday! Maria and Betsy are coming over for a movie marathon Sunday night, because on Saturday, me and Heather are going to the Annual Greenvey Fair! 

It only comes once a year, but it lasts a week, and the last day this year falls on my birthday! I'm really excited because me and Heather have gone every year since she started fostering me, and we have this tradition of always getting a giant stuffed bunny, the size increasing as I age, and this year, I get the largest one, because children can only enter the fair if they are 12 years or under in age (boo), but I'm still excited! If this is going to be my last year there, it's gonna be a good one.

I get off at my stop, scanning my bus card and heading towards home, still jamming to my mix. I arrive at the door and put my key in the lock. I twist they key and step inside.

"Hi, Heather! I'm ho-" I stop, seeing she's sitting at the table all serious-like. I take my shoes off silently and come and sit next to her. "What's wrong?" 

She sighs and starts to talk. "You're nearly twelve, and I think you deserve to know the truth about your past." I look at her, confused, but I think it's not really the right time to ask questions.

She takes a deep breath, and opens her mouth, but then closes it. She does this three or four more times, before she can finally make words come out of her mouth. She looks like she's about to cry, and I begin to worry.

"Sylvia," She says, her voice breaking, "You're not human."