Five

WARNING: swearing language.

     There was one day a few weeks ago when I was excited because I was told that I would be able to graduate in May by the counselor who was changing me to the minimum plan, which would pull me out of pre-cal and environmental systems. The counselor had my new schedule prepared and I'd gotten the paper signed and I was good to go. Unfortunately, the principal wasn't on board with everything, so my plan change was denied. I was pretty heartbroken.

 

     The thing about my senior year is, it started off bad before it'd even started. My aunt had taken me to withdraw from my previous high school, since I was living with my husband's cousin (secretly, at the time, living with my husband). So she withdrew me and drove me to the school in the district which I would spend my final year of high school in. We had as much paperwork as we could have gotten, which consisted of, at the time, my social security card, my driver's permit, a utility bill, and whatever else we had to bring and fill out right there.

 

     When we had everything filled out and turned in, one of the office clerks had a "serious discussion" with my aunt, on behalf of the fact that I was still only seventeen and wasn't living with my "legal guardian". Let me tell you, I got SO sick of those words, the reason being that I was considered an adult at age seventeen, but couldn't enroll myself at a school that was the only high school in the district I now lived in.

 

     So having failed that attempt, we drove back to my old high school and tried to re-enroll me there. But of course, something always has to go wrong when it's me. And I mean always.

 

     We spoke to the office clerk at the school I'd just been withdrawn from, and she'd said that there was no way I could get back in unless I waited until the first day of school. This was fine by me, because that meant less stress... at the time.

 

     The first day of school had arrived, and my aunt, once again, had picked me up and driven me over to register. I had the same paperwork I'd had at the other school, so I was good to go... except for the fact that there were over five hundred kids lined up ahead of me.

 

     That day, I finally got up to the desk and the stupid b***h who was supposed to be enrolling people flipped through my paperwork without stopping and looked up at me and said, "Where's your bill?"

 

     I raised my right brow. "My bill?" I asked, puzzled.

 

     She rolled her eyes and huffed, "You can't be enrolled unless you have a utility bill. You know, water? Electric?"

 

     I attempted to show her that I was holding a water bill, but she wouldn't have it. I was sent around the corner to sit in the hall with all the other poor people who hadn't yet been enrolled because of something completely ridiculous. I was so pissed off, it wasn't even funny.

 

     That Friday, I was dropped off and there wasn't even a point in trying. The line was too damn long! And it wasn't moving, either! So I called my dad and waited on him to come get me, which took about three or four hours. I really don't care to remember just exactly how long it took. All I know is, I wasn't standing in that long-a*s line only to be told that I was missing something again.

 

     My family decided to wait until Monday. So I waited. I don't remember what happened Monday, but I didn't get in that day, either. So my last hope was Tuesday.

 

     Tuesday... Praise the Lord, I finally was re-enrolled at this God-forsaken school! They'd already had my schedule made, so to this day I still have no idea why the hell they didn't let me in when they were supposed to! But I was finally in, and that was that.

 

     The downside to enrolling at this school was that I had to live with my aunt again... at least until my eighteenth birthday. It was only about three weeks, but living there is like pouring salt in a wound. There's no sugar-coated way to explain it. It's damn straight torture. And the weeks wouldn't go by fast enough.