The window fogged up slowly, the haze growing with each breathe as Sansa stared out into the yard. She shifted her weight onto her right arm, lifting her left sleeve up to the window, giving it a vigorous rub. The snow had stopped falling early in the morning, but the tree branches and bushes still had a dusting of snow covering their tops. Sansa swore that this year would be different; she would stay awake all night if the need arose.
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Buck paced back and forth on the white tile, moving between the living room and the dining room at an accelerated pace. He was nervous, because he was told to just chill out and behave himself. It wasn’t often that he was left alone in the house, but if it was longer than a casual nap, he usually got antsy and needed to entertain himself. This entertainment usually lasted until something laid shattered in a million pieces, and today was no exception.
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Marcy had always loved the movie Home Alone, where a young boy, abandoned by his family when they left on vacation, holds off a pair of dimwitted robbers who break into his house. Hijinks ensues. It use to be a simple source of enjoyment, but in the last month it has shifted to being a source of inspiration. Ever since she found out that her husband had a mistress, she had secretly been planning her revenge.

She spent the first few nights crying, wondering what she did wrong that lead her man astray. She still kissed him on the cheek when he left after dinner to, “head back to the office and wrap up a few things.” After feeling sorry for herself, something snapped on the inside and she began plotting. Luckily, Brad had never wanted children, so there were no distractions when she starting setting her traps.
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The stark white room was filled with the beep of the heart monitor and six people all holding their breath: 1 doctor, 2 nurses, his parents, and his wife. Xavier opened his eyes slowly, letting in only the slightest bit of light to his underused retinas. One of the nurses moved back from the bed and flipped one of the two light switches on the wall, dimming the room. Xavier opened his eyes a little bit wider and tried to focus on the smiley face stuck to the ceiling above his bed.

He groaned and tried to lift his head, but his body was weak from inactivity. “Try to relax Xavier,” said the nurse still at his bedside. His wife’s eyes were red and puffy as the tears welled up inside them. His mother’s hands were wrapped around her husband’s arm, but she managed to hold back tears as she gripped him tighter. Xavier tilted his head towards the woman speaking with a relaxing tone. His mouth opened and a cough escaped, “Where am I,” he asked with a scratchy voice.
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The buses idled along the curb as they wrapped the length of the roundabout as students loaded their bags into the large compartments under each bus. A few small groups were gathered outside of the buses, laughing and joking with their friends who were riding separate buses. Derek had already loaded up his gear onto bus number four, but he was stalling boarding until the very last moment.

While the field trip involved the entire junior and senior classes, the popular kids always rode bus number four and wrote all of the rules of the bus. The stories that survived each class were legendary: Kim and Tammy making out for 30 minutes, smoking electronic cigarettes without the chaperons knowing, and the ecstasy party. Those were only the good stories though, the ones that made every junior want to get onto the bus. The trouble was, you could only be invited onto that bus, and when you arrived, you had to succumb to the initiation.
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The line at the door wrapped back and forth three times between velvet ropes outside of Hillary’s favorite breakfast bar. She walked directly up to the bouncer and spoke, “Hey Lenny.” She smiled brightly as Lenny stepped to the side and let her walk through without hesitation.

The bar was full of laughter and upbeat music, packed to the gills as usual for a Saturday morning. She slipped off her thin coat to reveal a red dress that barely reached to her mid-thigh, cinched by a rich brown leather belt. She noticed her friends standing at the end of the bar and made a beeline for their location.

The top of the bar in front of her friends had a small appetizer plate of breakfast burritos and a pitcher of orange juice; they had started without her. Hillary was feeling amazing, “Last night was totally worth it.”
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