It began as all bad days do: the weather alarm was sounding through the neighborhood. I woke up with my heart pounding. An F-5 tornado was barreling towards my abode, dodging all of my other neighbors’ houses as if the weatherman had a personal vendetta against me and me alone.

My family scrambled out of the house with all of their valuable belongings. I couldn’t grab anything because I was still in my half-awake, morning mood.

The tornado sucked up our house in a matter of seconds and immediately subsided. The clouds parted and a rainbow stretched across the sky over the rubble of my life’s memories. On top of this tragedy, my sister laughed at me for not saving my favorite stuffed animal and my mother scolded me to get ready for school.

I grabbed a half-torn backpack from the debris and scampered to the bus stop.

The bus pulled up at an awkward angle so that one of its front wheels was resting on the sidewalk where I so happened to be standing. The vehicle had run over my right foot and it swelled beyond recognition.

I limped up the stairs and the bus driver called me “ugly face” like any other morning, followed by the kids erupting in mass hysteria. I was the laughing stock of my neighborhood after all. I dragged my feet to the back of the bus, as every seat was taken. The bus jolted forward and I experienced major whiplash.

I entered the school with every student attempting to trip me. I passed by the principal in the hallway. He narrowed his eyes at me and said, “you are the worst student to ever attend this district.” Surrounding children applauded his sentiment.

After that demoralizing encounter, I spotted my school bully, Butch. He stomped up to me and demanded for my lunch money. I pulled out my wallet and handed him a twenty.

“More,” he said.

“That’s all I have!” I pleaded.

“You have a credit card.”

He snatched my MasterCard and swiped it on his personal credit card reader. The only thing I could do was watch as he transferred one hundred thousand dollars from my account to his. Butch also had the urge to confiscate my gym membership card and my state ID, which means I had to renew it for the 4th time this month.

Butch thanked me for my time and proceeded to shove me into a nearby locker with the force of a thousand bulls. I was trapped in the moldy, pitch-black, metal capsule, and each passing second l was losing more and more oxygen.

After 4 hours, the locker door was opened. I collapsed to the floor, and the girl to which the locker belonged to screamed that I was a pervert for snooping around in her stuff. The vice-principal was in earshot of her and gave me 5 hours of detention after school.

I entered the classroom of my fifth period, English, and Ms. Great berated me for my tardiness. I informed her that I was already going to detention that day so further sentencing was not necessary. She agreed and told the class to start rumors about me as punishment. They did not hold back with their creative writings because I was later convicted for crimes I did not commit.

Eventually, the police had to let me go because of the lack of evidence against me, but that didn’t stop them from using a taser on me. The police also refused to clear my track record of the false misdemeanors.

I was dropped off at my school once more and it was 7th period, the last class of the school day. Art class with Mr. Jenson was my favorite class of the day because I had the opportunity to express myself unlike in any other class. Also, Mr. Jenson was actually nice to me.

I sat down at my chair and started painting the floral still-life in-front of me. It was so relaxing to draw flowers after such a terrible day. Mr. Jenson stood next to me as I painted.

Suddenly, he bursted out in a fit of pure outrage and shouted, “I cannot hold it in any longer! You are the worst student I have ever had the displeasure of teaching! And your paintings are truly deplorable!”

My heart shattered, and I was forced to exit the room.

So yeah, my day wasn’t the best.