Page 58 - The Peorian Vol 3 Issue 1 Winter

58 thePeorian.com
Student Story
W hat is it about the first
day of college that is
intended to make it
one of the best days of a teenage
girl’s life? Is it the bright possibil-
ity of new friends? The guarantee
of more freedom? Maybe people
figure it’s just the classes as a
whole.
As I sit here on the side of the
highway, my car broken down
and the sun blazing, I find it
hard to believe that anyone has
a good first day of school at any
point of their lives. On my first
day of the second grade, kids ran
around calling me a “mommy’s
girl” after my mom sent me to
school with a Barbie lunchbox
and a mark of her lipstick on my
cheeks. On my first day of high
school I covered my new white
jeans with mud after about 10
minutes of wearing them.
You’d think I’d be used to hav-
ing bad first days by now, but
after making sure there were no
traces of lipstick or mud on my
body or clothes, you can say that
I’m a little bit upset.
“Beth! Beth!” my mom shouted
as she pulled behind my old
Honda Civic. She immediately
ran towards me and embraced
me in a hug after she exited her
vehicle. Don’t get me wrong, I
love my mom, but she can be a
little bit overbearing at times.
That might be obvious to those
who witnessed the red smears
of lipstick on my cheek, but hey,
many people think she’s just your
ordinary, loving mom. In a way,
she is. However, when she still
insists on sending me to school
with a packed lunch, it makes me
question how much control she
has over how loving she is.
“I was so worried about you,”
she chanted as she spun me
around in circles.
“I’m alright, mom, but I can’t
say I’ll feel the same if you don’t
stop clutching me to death.”
She quickly released, her face
glistening with drops of sweat.
Quickly, she bounced right by
her desert-like surroundings and
straight to my broken down car.
“I guess it must have overheat-
ed,” I muttered, my sarcastic tone
making her chuckle. “Oh, it must
have, especially considering how
stubborn you are about your air
conditioning.”
I shook my head, immediately
pointing out the fact that my air
conditioner couldn’t be running
unless I wanted my car to make
the sound of an excited piglet.
Laughing again, she moved back
in my direction, pointing towards
her car. “Well, there’s nothing
we can do about this right now,
so I’ll just drop you off at school
today. We have to hurry, though.
Work’s calling my name!”
Driving in the car with my
mom was something I would de-
scribe as a punishment. She finds
the radio station that plays the
most recent hip-hop music and
shimmies behind the wheel the
whole time we’re on the move.
She constantly talks, sings, and
screams at other cars. If I had to
compare my mom to anything,
it’d be a teenage girl. She’s just
trapped in a 42-year old’s body, I
suppose.
THE FIRST DAY…
INTO ADULTHOOD
By Lindsey Avena