• If you call me anything, I suppose ‘Lana’ would be what I recognize soonest. Though I claim, showing off to my friends, that I’m completely unique, I’m truly just your average teenager.
    I have my talents and weaknesses, things I favor and things I prefer to avoid. Call out Lana, and my head will turn, either a distant frown or a warm, attentive smile. I won’t, however, make any promises as to the sincerity of either.
    So here I sit, in fifth period Chemistry. My teacher, a stout woman with thinning hair and sagging breasts, looks… sad. I turn around, and everyone else in the room does too. I start to nudge my lab partner, Cory, but stop. Today, everyone has ignored me so far. I suppose someone, maybe Eric, or perhaps Christina, spread another rumor. In a high school with a population of three hundred total students, things tend to spread as fast as wildfire- perhaps even more rapidly.
    So instead of inquiring about the general gloom, I turn back, silent. I stand up wordlessly and fill out a sign out sheet for the bathroom- I don’t need to go, nor will I. I just need to wander for a minute. One minute turns into two, turns into five, then fifteen. No matter.
    An announcement blares from the loudspeaker, somewhat distorted by the speakers, worn and abused.
    “Attention all high school students. Please report to the auditorium immediately.”
    I start walking towards it, and then remember that it was stuck this morning; no matter what I tried, it would not open for my first period class. I shrug, not really wanting to be in this drab building any longer, and decide to ditch. As I walk through the parking lot, I heard my name called by an unfamiliar voice.
    “Lana! Do you know how long it took to find you?”
    As I turn around, I see an average height American teenage boy, staring at me incredulously. I distant frown decorates my face, now. I intend to ask who he is, or perhaps how he knows my name.
    “I haven’t been running.” That is what I say instead, an unnatural calm floating over me.
    “. . .” He doesn’t answer, and simply embraces me gently, yet somehow it feels like the most intimate motion possible.
    Images flash through my mind suddenly, some accompanied by sound.
    My boyfriend across the street with our friends, beckoning for me to come closer.
    I’m running, laughing, towards him.
    A loud crash, and the sound of something large, heavy tipping over, perhaps flipping a few times.
    The last words I ever saw were “HAVE A NICE DAY”, impersonal and obnoxious, printed on the side of the bus.
    The boy lets me go, and smiles. “Now will you join us?”
    I silently take hold of his hand.