Luma

"Luma, you're late, again," Mom tells me, walking into my bedroom. 1

"I *bunny* know I'm late, Mom. I woke up late, OK?"2

"Luma, get to school! You're already ten minutes late. You'd better run to the school gates because I can't drive you this morning."3

"Whatever, look, I don't have time, as you said, I'm late. Bye Mom," I quickly kiss her on the cheeck and run down the stairs, literally sprinting out the front door and down the concrete steps that lead up to our house. 4

I sign in in the school office and the receptionist sees me.5

"Late again, Luma." She says dissaprovingly.6

I nod and run to class. My class is sitting in silence doing work from the textbooks that are kept on the shelves.7

"Where were you?! You know if you're late again, Ms Henley's going to talk to you and probably call you Mom or something," Crystal whispers to me.8

"I slept in! And when I woke up I was nearly *bunny* late as it was, I didn't even get time to have a shower."9

"Awww, poor little Luma; didn't get time for a shower," She mocks, smiling.10

"Shut up," I say back and get out my book, moving the textbook so it's inbetween me and Crystal. A great way to spend a Monday morning, late as ever. If you're late four times in one term, the teacher calls your parents. I've been late twice. Mom's going to get mad if she gets a call. My school's pretty strict, actually. And if you ever get caught swearing, like I do, it's a call to your parents as well.11

When the bell goes I shove my book in my school bag and look at the time on my phone clock. Luckily we're allowed our phones out and we are allowed to use them at break and lunch, just not during classes. I push my hair over my shoulder and get out my timetable. Even after being at this school for half a year, I still can't remember what classes I have! Most people at this school know by memory, but I don't.
PE's one of my favourite subjects. Mostly because you don't have to sit at your desk doing absolutly nothing for the whole period like most subjects; and in PE you can move around and play some of your favourite games. All the other girls in my class are all girly, and are scared that if they hit the ball they'll get their hair or nails mucked up, most of the time they just scream when the ball comes near them.
We've got PE for period 1. I make my way to hall. The PE teacher's talking to Ruby, one of the girl's who don't want to get their hair mucked up. She's probably telling the PE teacher, Mr Mills, that she's sick or some made-up *bunny* to get to her off it. I tie my hair up and sit down on the bleacher.
"OK," Mr Mills yells, signalling for everyone to be quiet. "Today for PE we're going to play basketball. Raise your hand if you don't know how to play basketball," He pauses for hands. No one puts their hand up. "Good, then I won't have to spent time explaining the rules, it's a pretty simple game, it's not like it's especially hard or anything. What country is it known for being a common sport?"
I raise my hand and so do some other boys. He looks around and I'm guessing a lot of the time only the boys put their hand up to answer this question, so he picks me.
"Ruby," He says.
"America's. And it's a famous stereotype for basketballs to be tall and have big feet," I add.
"Yeah, well done. So, girl's in particular, I want to see you really making an effort; dribbling propley and passing the ball to your team-mates. Don't be scared to hit the ball. Some of the girls in the other classes' were like that, but your class is good at sports, so I except all of you to participate, except for if you've got a note," He glances at Sarah, the girl who I saw talking to him before.
We go outside the hall doors and out onto the basketball courts. We get divided into teams and my team has to take our jumpers off so we're just in our uniform, so you can see what are the teams. I feel sorry for the other team who have to keep their jumpers on, because it's gets really hot doing PE.
"Ruby, pass the ball!" Crystal yells. She's sometimes one of those girls who doesn't want to get her hair mucked up, but today she's making a weirdly effort into it.
I do as she says and she dribbles up to our hoop. She shoots, and because of her netball skills from two years ago, she gets the ball straight in the hoop. I hi 5 her and we keep playing.
Then I see a boy come up to Mr Mills on the sidelines and the boys starts saying something to him. Seconds later, the boys walks off and Mr Mills yells, "Ruby Wilson!" He beckons me to him.
"Yeah?" I ask, catching my breath.
"Message for you to go to the office. I think you need to bring your bag,"
"Thanks," I say, running over to the big pile of school bags and yanking mine out from near the bottom.
I wonder why the office needs me? I hardly ever get called to go to the office. I always remember permission slips and things like that but there hasn't been a permission slip given out any time lately. Maybe Mom's got a message for me; maybe saying she'll pick me up after school, and she just forgot to let me know this morning.
I walk quite fast to the office, wanting to see what I'm needed for as quickly as possible. I open the glass doors seperating the concrete path and the office, and walk in. Warm air hits me; the office faces the sun so it's always really warm when I come in here.
There's other people in front of me, one with a bleeding knee, another with their Mom and a girl who looks like she might vomit.
Finally they all leave and I'm at the front of the line.
"I got a call to come to the office while I was doing PE," I explain.
"Oh, yes, your mother's here to get you, she's in the lounge." I look at her strangly and then go through to the lounge. Mom's sitting there on the couch, and sees me when I walk in.
"Ruby," She says, standing up.
"Mom...what are you doing here?" I ask. Why is my Mom at my school, sitting in the lounge?
"I thought we might go for a holiday, leaving today. We're going to LA for the week. I thought I'd get you from school and we could go home and pack. Dad's at home,"
"...LA? Why?"
"I just thought you needed a break, that's all. You've been studying hard for school and everything, and I thought it might be good for you...and me and Dad. Now come on, Ruby, we've got to get home. We're leaving as soon as we're ready."
I nod, still a bit confused and follow her out the office door. We leave the school and drive off.12