Aurea

I hate the mornings. Absolutely hate them. Where do people find the motivation to wake up in the morning, because I need some of it. My feet sunk into my plush carpet at 6:00 a.m., with my toes curling in dissatisfaction with the texture below them. I pulled my weight with me as I lugged myself across the room to my mirror. Cringing, I dragged my purple brush through my tangled bedhead. 

"Aurea!" My mother called from down the hall.

"What," I groaned.

"The bus will be here in sixty minutes, hurry up! I am not making your breakfast this morning." She always tried to motivate me with the threat of making my own breakfast, but I never bought it. 

"Okay," I rolled my eyes. 

I plodded over to my closet, where there was a closet full of clothes at my fingertips. Coincidentally, there never seemed to be anything that matched or that I wanted to wear at the moment. It was moments like these where I wished that I went to a Catholic school with a uniform, but of course that would never happen. That was the life of an atheist I suppose. 

After throwing together an outfit, I moved on to my makeup table, which was overflowing with products from a variety of brands, including Urban Decay and Mary Kay. A heavy sigh escaped my lungs, as I knew the work that was ahead of me. With expert but tired strokes, I applied the make up before me to my face. About 20 minutes later, I rose from my plush chair and walked down the hall to my mother's room, where my hair care supplies and toothbrush were kept. 

"Morning." My mom muttered. I grunted in reply and shuffled over to my sink. My fingers wrapped around the metal handle of the tooth care drawer and pulled it open, reveling an array of toothpastes and brushes. I selected my brush and normal whitening toothpaste. Two minutes later, my perfect smile was white and ready for the day.

Once I had smiled at myself in the mirror and inspected my teeth for imperfections, my countenance turned sullen. Now was my least favorite part of the morning. Dealing with the mop on my head referred to as "hair". With a grimace, I ran my brush through my hair. It caught in knots at least six times as it ran through my long blonde locks. 

"Ow, ow, ow." I whispered to myself as I yanked the bristles through my hair. 

"Here." My mom handed me some of her detangling spray. I took it gratefully and caked my hair in it. The brush went through it slightly easier afterwards, but anything was better than the initial pain of a brush through bedhead. 

Once my hair was combed, curled and sprayed, I trudged downstairs at 6:45, 15 minutes before the bus arrived. The toaster clicked as I threw waffles in between the metal bars and turned it on. Sixty seconds later, it rung and my hot breakfast popped up. 

"Finally," I murmured and threw the waffles onto a two-ply paper towel. The heat seared my skin, and I sucked air in through my teeth to keep from screaming. Instantly I pulled my hand away from the hot waffles and tried to shake the heat out of my hand, but ended up just banging it on the oven handle, which just happened to be preheating for my mother's morning omelet. My hand was red now, and I ran over to the sink to run it under cold water.

"What's going on down there?" My dad called from the stair balcony. 

"Nothing." I yelled back, trying to keep the pain out of my voice as the icy water cooled my skin. My eyes wandered over to the clock, and I panicked. It was 6:55, 5 minutes until the bus arrived. I felt a look of fear cross over my face as I pulled my hand out from under the faucet, not even noticing the pain that came with that action. My feet carried my frantic self across the house in a chaotic frenzy.

 At last my waffles were cooled and I grabbed them off the counter at 6:59 AM. Stuffing half of one in my mouth, I shoved my feet into my designer shoes and kicked open the door ninja-style, grabbing my bag in the process. 

"Bye ma, bye dad!" I shouted up the banister before slamming the door behind me and running off to the bus. 

I was the last stop o the bus, and by then there was never a seat. My ever-returning fear was having to sit next to the Catholic freak of the school, Mary Rose. Sure enough, the seat next to her was the only one left. She was a sweet girl, with modest wavy brown hair and rosy cheeks, but whenever I tried to start a conversation with her she would steer it straight into religion and all that stuff. Everyone else adored Mary Rose, but they didn't have her trying to evangelize them every second of the day. I don't understand why she just can't understand I was taught different. 

With a small, sharp breath in, I plopped down in the seat next to Mary Rose. Her face lit up, but I knew hiding underneath that look was a brain planning her next tactic to bring me to Christ or whatever they did at church. 

"Hi!" Mary Rose greeted me with a smile I almost would've been fooled into thinking she was genuine. For a plotting devil, her voice sure did sound like honey.

"Morning." I muttered and turned to get on my phone, but she kept the conversation going. Great, just great.

"How have you been?" Mary Rose asked.

"I've been what I deserve. You?" I replied without a trickle of enthusiasm in my voice.

"Great! Well, I mean, not that you've been great, but I've been, well, that." She stumbled slightly over her words. I stifled a laugh. The angel stumbles! She is human! I repeat, Mary Rose is actually a human! Ha, just kidding. She's too perfect. Mary Rose sighed. "So, what have you been into?"

"I just went to a concert last night." That was actually true.

"Cool, I actually went to one Monday!" Mary Rose got all excited. I couldn't believe a goody-two shoes like her would stay out like that on a school night. "What concert?"

"5SOS." 

"Oh, I went to see Matt Maher." 

"Who?" I knew of almost every group or individual artist in every category, yet the name didn't ring a bell. 

"Matt Maher. Catholic artist, beach blonde, on the 'Saints and Sinners Tour'?" Mary Rose tried to spell out his style, but I was lost. And then I picked up on the one word I missed. Catholic. She had steered the conversation in that direction without my awareness. And to think I actually had begun to reconsider her. Well, my opinion isn't going to change now. People can't, won't and don't change. 

"Oh." I rolled my eyes and faced the other seat. We were in the school parking lot now. It would be but seconds until I could escape the deceivingly warm-looking-yet-icy stare of Mary Rose.

"Well, we're here!" Mary Rose jumped up, almost knocking me out of the seat. I fell out into the isle, my bag still siting on the seat. 

"Hey!" I stood and dusted myself off. 

"I'm so sorry!" Mary Rose yelped and helped me to my feet, fixing my hair for me. I batted her hand away and parted my locks the way I liked them, and then grabbed my bag and sharply turned on my heel to leave. 

Once I had settled into my seat in first period, I noticed a paper fall out of my bag and float onto the tiled floor. With a huff I picked it up and turned it over to see something I knew was from Mary Rose. It was a flyer for a camp, called Sanctified, and a Post-It attached to meet her at the flag pole during free period. 

"As if." I whispered and stuffed the flyer and Post-It into my bag. 

Hello friends! I've reimagined the beginning of The Path as you can see here. This is not the original first chapter. At first, we see Aurea being a total brat to her mother and quite frankly is developed as a soul full of hate, but I like the path (haha get it) this story will take me to much better. In this way, we see Aurea as more of a character that isn't completely full of hate, but does lack Him in her heart and is a lot like us is a way more than one.

Now for today's Soul Study (yes I'm going to do this for every chapter, answer at your own risk): Do you ever push away the "Mary Rose"s in your life? Every rose has it's thorns, but do you ever try to get rid of someone that might be trying to help lead you closer to Christ? Be sure to be accepting of all people in your life, and always try to be the "Mary Rose" in someone else's life. 

That's all for this chapter, lovelies. Hopefully I'll see you all soon with another chapter in this. I promise this is the last and only time this story's plot line will be reimagined in such a way that you all (the public of Wattpad) can see it. 

xoxo

~bcruzy_02