A Different Perspective

I slowly drifted out of sleep, feeling the warmth of the sunlight seeping through the attic window, bathing the bed in a cozy heat. The soft rays filtered through the curtains, coaxing me back to consciousness. I stayed still for a moment, reluctant to leave the warm cocoon of blankets that seemed to wrap me in a safe embrace. As I turned over, my face brushed against something rough—something that wasn't part of the bed. Blinking groggily, I saw a letter. My heart jolted, reminding me of my plans to enroll in school today.

With a sigh, I pushed myself to sit up, the sunlight now fully warming my back, making it harder to leave the comfort of the bed. My stomach grumbled, pulling me from my hesitation. I needed breakfast.

I climbed down from the attic, each step creaking faintly beneath me. I paused halfway, straining to listen for any signs of Carmine. Nothing. The house felt unusually still, almost too quiet.

I made my way into the kitchen, its silence feeling strange but welcome. After preparing a simple bowl of cereal, I sat at the small kitchen table, the sound of the spoon clinking against the bowl the only noise in the room. The peace was rare—no shouting, no blaring television. I found myself savoring it.

Once breakfast was done, I rummaged through one of the drawers and pulled out an old watch, fastening it to my wrist. The cold metal felt strangely grounding, a reminder of the day ahead. Before I could get lost in thought, I felt a sudden urge to use the bathroom.

I headed to the guest bathroom, the nearest one. Once inside, I shut the door behind me and paused, staring at the toilet for a moment. The logistics of this whole thing still felt awkward. Taking a deep breath, I fumbled with the oversized sweatpants I had taken from Daniel. The waistband barely held them up, and they kept slipping down, dragging along the floor.

I stood there for a moment, trying to figure out how to approach this. Carefully, I pulled the sweatpants down and sat, feeling the unfamiliar sensation of my body in this position. The hoodie bunched awkwardly around me, and the hem of the sweatpants pooled at my feet like I was drowning in fabric.

The position felt awkward, unfamiliar. I had to remind myself to relax and just focus. After some struggle, I finally managed to relieve myself. As I finished, a mix of frustration and amusement washed over me at how ridiculous the whole process felt.

It hit me then—I couldn't wear these clothes anymore. I looked ridiculous. They were too big, making me look like a kid trying to wear their older sibling's hand-me-downs. The sweatpants and hoodie, while comfortable, swallowed me up. I sighed in frustration as I stood up and adjusted the waistband once more to no avail.

I washed my hands and caught sight of myself in the mirror for the first time. The reflection staring back looked odd. The hoodie was baggy, the bottom reaching down to my knees, making my shoulders look hunched. The sleeves swallowed my arms, and despite tying the sweatpants tightly above my waist, the legs still dragged along the floor. I looked… small. Almost like I had shrunk inside someone else's clothes.

I needed something that fit.

Hmm. Who has smaller clothes? Carmine.

I made my way to Carmine's room, which I hadn't visited in ages. The familiar coziness of the room felt strangely inviting as I stepped in, the soft carpet muffling my footsteps. The cream-colored rug and framed art prints on the wall made the space feel warm, almost nostalgic. It was just as I remembered it.

I opened the wardrobe, sifting through various suits and outfits. Too large. I kept searching, feeling a small knot of fear in my chest. Then, tucked away in the corner, I noticed an old box. Curiosity piqued, I pulled it out and opened the lid. Inside were clothes that looked like they belonged to my mother, back when she was younger. They were slimmer, but still in great condition.

My eyes fell on a grey sports bra and a matching pair of underwear at the top of the box. Relieved, I realized I needed a bra now. I hesitated for a moment before slipping off the hoodie and sweatpants. My eyes closed on instinct as I dressed, feeling a little awkward with how snug the bra fit. But at least it fit.

Next, I laid out a few options from the box on the bed: a black crop top, a floral skirt, and a white summer dress. I reached for the crop top first. As I pulled it over my head, an immediate wave of discomfort hit me. It barely reached my midriff, leaving my stomach exposed. I yanked it off, cheeks burning.

I moved to the floral skirt next. It was pretty, but it didn't reach my knees, leaving me feeling even more exposed. Flustered, I quickly pulled it off, sighing in frustration.

Finally, I settled on the white summer dress. It slipped over my head, and though I panicked as it resisted for a moment, it eventually slid into place. The soft fabric draped around me with surprising ease. I stood in front of the mirror, smoothing out the creases.

For a second, I barely recognized myself. The reflection staring back at me looked… different. Softer. More put-together. I traced my fingers along the fabric of the dress. I didn't look bad at all, maybe even… nice.

Maybe being a girl isn't that bad, I thought, surprised by the sudden sense of acceptance. I glanced down, admiring the way the dress fit—not too tight, just right.

But then I caught sight of the time on my watch. The bus was leaving in ten minutes! Panic surged through me. I quickly gathered the remaining clothes and stuffed them back into the box. Hoisting it up, I ran to the attic and tucked it away, barely pausing to catch my breath.

I grabbed my bag, some money, and rushed out the door. There was no time to waste.

Stepping outside, I squinted at the bright sunlight, which seemed harsh compared to my usual early wake-up time of 6:30 a.m. I always caught the bus when it was still dark, and this new schedule felt strange. I hurried down the street at a brisk pace, not quite running but moving faster than usual, feeling the pressure of time ticking away. My body moved differently, but I was slowly adjusting.

I wasn't entirely sure why I wanted to go to school. It didn't particularly make me happy or sad, but perhaps it was guilt from living secretly in the house or concern about my future. Either way, it felt like the right decision.

At the crosswalk, I stood, nervously shifting my weight from one foot to the other, my eyes glued to the red hand symbol on the signal. Come on, come on, I thought anxiously. The street was completely empty—no cars, no pedestrians—but the light refused to change. I bit my lip, feeling time slipping away. I couldn't afford to be late for the bus after rushing out like this.

Finally, the light turned green, and I quickly crossed the street, my steps speeding up as I neared the bus stop. I sat down on the bench, impatient and slightly out of breath. I had rushed out of the house, thinking the bus would be here any minute, but now it seemed like it was late.

Annoyance bubbled up inside me. All that hurrying, throwing the clothes into the attic, practically running out the door, and now I was just… sitting here. Waiting. My foot tapped against the ground as I stared at the empty street.

I glanced at my hands; they seemed smaller now. Minutes ticked by slowly. I looked at my feet, which felt a bit loose inside my shoes. Another few minutes passed, and I noticed the injury on my knee from the fall was almost gone. With no phone to distract me and not feeling tired enough to sleep, I was left with my thoughts.

Footsteps approached, sending a sharp feeling of fear through me. It reminded me of that horrifying night. I looked over, only to see an old man with a cane. He slowly walked over and stood next to the bus stop, seemingly also waiting for the bus.

I looked ahead, staring blankly at the empty street, trying to keep calm. The silence stretched out between us, but then, as I sat there, he spoke quietly, his voice carrying a weight I couldn't quite place.

"You can't stay here forever," he said, not looking at me but almost through me, his gaze fixed ahead.

I turned my head slightly, confused. His words felt oddly directed at me but also… like they weren't. It was as if he was speaking to someone else, even though he was clearly looking my way.

Before I could respond, the sound of the bus engine rumbled closer. It came to a stop in front of me with a soft hiss. I stood up, glancing back at the old man to see if he was going to follow, but he had vanished without a trace.

Huh, that was weird, I thought, but I didn't dwell on it. My focus shifted back to the day ahead. I quickly paid the fare, found a seat, and settled in, still feeling the echo of his strange words in my mind.

Resting my head on the seat, I was pleasantly surprised to find it nestled perfectly there. Before, my head would stick out over the top, forcing me to slouch or lean against the window. I remembered the countless times I had bumped my head on potholes or speed bumps.

As I settled into my seat, I heard a group of teenagers laughing loudly at the back of the bus. They were playing obnoxiously loud music, the kind with heavy bass that made the seats vibrate. Between the blaring music and their crude conversations, they talked about rude and inappropriate things, seemingly without a care for anyone else. I had always loathed kids like that—the ones who showed no respect and did whatever they wanted. It wasn't just their loudness that bothered me, but their disregard for others. Worse still, they sounded like constipating monkeys every time they laughed. At least sound good when you laugh, I thought.

Despite my frustration, I didn't want to provoke them. They always traveled in groups, like hyenas, and I knew better than to draw their attention. I focused on ignoring them, looking out the window, eager for the bus ride to be over. But as their conversation continued, my patience wore thin. Finally, unable to resist, I snapped and gave them a sharp stare. Instantly, fear twisted in my stomach, and I quickly looked back forward, hoping they hadn't noticed.

But it was too late. I could feel their gazes on me, and a sharp sense of fear shot through me as I heard their footsteps pause next to my seat. I tried to ignore them, keeping my eyes forward and my expression calm, but they struck up a conversation. "Are you alone?" one asked, his tone overly friendly yet unsettling.

Just as one of them reached towards me, someone slid into the seat next to me. The intrusion startled the teenagers, and they exchanged unsure glances before retreating. They left the bus, laughing as they walked away, the sound grating on my nerves.

Turning to see my unexpected savior, I was shocked to find myself looking at Aiden, my childhood friend. I quickly thanked him for stepping in, but Aiden remained silent, lost in his thoughts. In his mind, he couldn't believe he had just saved the day and was now sitting next to such a cute girl.

I waved my hand in front of his face to get his attention, pulling him out of his thoughts. He finally responded, "Oh, no problem," trying to play it cool despite his inner nervousness.

I then brought up his connection to Daniel. "You're Daniel's friend, aren't you? What are you doing out of school?" I asked.

Aiden replied, "Oh, I slept past my alarm," trying to explain away his absence from school. He didn't seem to recognize me immediately, perhaps because he had only seen me briefly before, or maybe the change in my outfit threw him off.

"By the way, my name is Aiden," he added, offering a small smile.

"Diana," I responded, and we exchanged a brief nod.

The conversation quickly faded, leaving us in an awkward silence. I felt uncomfortable not because Aiden was a stranger, but because I knew him so well and had to pretend otherwise. Meanwhile, Aiden seemed preoccupied, fidgeting with his fingers, glancing at his phone, and taking small sips from his water bottle.

The silence hung heavily between us, and I found myself staring out the window, watching the scenery pass by. I wondered how long the bus ride would last and tried to focus on the changing view to avoid the uncomfortable tension.

As the bus approached the school stop, I felt a sense of relief. I hoped disembarking would end the awkwardness between us. The bus came to a halt, and the doors opened, signaling our arrival at the school.