I shrugged my backpack onto my shoulder, the weight feeling like a boulder on my back. I flinched as yet another glass shattered on the floor, followed by my mother’s high-pitched screaming.

“I can’t believe this! You gambled all our money away again!”

And like always my father replied with a soothing “It was a mistake,” that always got on my nerves. My mother’s too by the sound of it.

I walked the trail to school, seeing a bundle of other kids joining together all bouncing toward school. Their multi-colored backpacks and perfectly organized pencil pouches.

I picked at the loose threads on my backpack strand and feel inferior. It was becoming a common feeling these days.

“I can’t believe you forgot the money!”

I saw a woman yelling at another, presumably about the bus fare. I watched as the bus rolled up to the stop and the woman sighed sharply. Ignorant of their troubles, a cluster of other people flowed onto the bus.

Oh, how easy it would be to just get on it and leave. To get off at the last stop and hope it was somewhere new. To just start over.

Unconsciously, I walked closer to the bus. I heard the woman from before grumbling and the other woman rolling her eyes. I was right in front of the bus.

“Oof!”

I stumbled to the side as someone shoved me. I rubbed my arm and scooted to the right. In all the commotion, I was able to sneak onto the bus without even realizing I was doing it. Suddenly, the engine roared to life and we were off.

I hesitantly sat in an empty seat, old gum stuck to the front and a crusty, cigarette smell filling it up. I didn’t mind.

It smelled like freedom.