The next morning I wake to the delicious aroma of blueberry pancakes and sticky syrup, it smells like a mixture of fresh honey and pancake mix.
My gummy bears, I haven't smelled something this good is a long time. It feels like I could've died about five painful deaths from the last time I got to devour blueberry pancakes.
I smile and put on my silver metal rimmed glasses, hopping out of bed, and racing downstairs. Not bothering to look at my lovely hair situation in the mirror. I already know it’s a wreck, just like it always is when I first wake up.
Following the smell all the way down the stairs as my stomach growls, almost like it's eating itself. Knowing my stomach is ready to devour a full breakfast, I smile when I reach the room full of the amazing aroma.
I catch my Dad very carefully adding the last couple pancakes onto a plate stacked with blueberry pancakes. Have I told you how blueberry pancakes are my absolutely favourite? So me being me, I don't hesitate to sit down and dig right in.
“Hey slow down kid!” My dad exclaims with a smile. This is our first meal together in about 2 weeks; I'm glad this is what he is treating me with. Exactly when he picked up on the long, gross late shifts.
I shake my head and continue to scarf about 2 more pancakes down,  and then I stop, not wanting to make myself sick.
Normally I don't eat this much, but when it comes to pancakes, blueberry ones at that, they will go down with or without a fight. All mine.
Of course I have to share, not that I want to but I have to, so I just lean back, watching as my Dad eats 2 down and bagging the rest. He always bags the extra ones and they last about a week worth of breakfast. I always seem to love that week.
“Meredith? Did you hear me?” Just that seems to snap me back into the present, the horrible thing that we are always forced to live in. To be honest, reality is a place I think we can live without, I would love to live in the fanasty world, where supernatural things thrive.
I blink a couple times, shaking my head and remember what I was doing,”Sorry Dad, what did you say?” This happens way too often when I go off into Mere space. That's what I call when I just completely block off the world and start thinking.
“I said, you better go get ready for school. The bus will be here in 15 minutes.” My dad chuckles, he knows about Mere space, I don't know who doesn't know, besides the readers of my story.
My gummy bears, I'm doing it again. I try not to but it's too hard not to. Its really annoying because something it's hard to snap back into the dreaded reality. Like right now
I nod and stand up slowly, my head not agreeing with a sudden movement. I ignore the sharp pain and make my way to my room where i get dressed in my soft creme collared sweater,  soft stretchy blue jeans, and my worn black converse before I finally gain the confidence to take a look at my lovely brown wavy hair. It's in its bun from last night, but it's very messy, like a family of birds built a nest in my hair.
Inhaling and exhaling before I let it down and brush through it before putting it into two braids. When satisfied I put on my watch and bracelets before grabbing my backpack, putting it on my small back, and hopping down the brown spiral stairs where my dad is waiting with open arms.
My dad is short, but taller than me. He also has chestnut brown hair like I do, he has the same grey-blue eyes that I do. His hair is very curly but short. He is very young for being a father to a 17 year old.
I hug him tightly before rushing outside and hopping onto the waiting bus. Now I know what your thinking. I have a car yes, but us nerds must be careful, the bullys like to slash the air out of tires; nerd tires.
On the bus you would expect it to be a zoo full of wild animals called highschool teenagers. I tend to live in some twisted world where its quiet you could hear a pin drop a mile away, mostly becuase its full of nerds reading, studying, and doing homework.
Sounds awful right? If I'm being perfectly honest, its not. We all know each other and the bus actaully stays clean. No ripped, sticky seats. No broken windows, and no gum stuck to the sides of the fake leather cover seats.
I take my normal spot in the middle of the bus. Nobody sits here, its either the front or the back, never the middle. So I lean against the window and look around before I catch an familiar face giving me an unfamiliar look.
Jeez Mere, that didn't even make sense. I seriously need to start paying attention to what I say.
I look at the face I never thought id see staring at me, let along on the stupid, lame nerd bus.
Travis Emers. The school bad boy. Of course he has the nerve to come on my bus. I roll my eyes before grabbing a book from my backpack and start to read it.
What really frustrates me is he won't stop giving me that icy cold glare, like I killed everyone he ever loved.