I watch as cars fly by on the street below me and all I can think about is how much I wish I could drive away too. I don’t know where I would go but that’s not important. All I want to do is drive down an endless road, blast my music, and scream at the top of my lungs. A sigh escapes my lips as I daydream and rest my chin on my palm. Somewhere in my mind I hear my name being called, it grows louder until I realize it’s not in my head. My gaze snaps up to see my teacher staring straight down at me.
“Rachel, I asked if you are ready to present the contents of your bag,” her eyes pierce into mine.
“Yeah, I’m ready,” I quickly gather my paper bag off of the floor and rush up to the front of the class.
I face my peers and take a quick look around. They’ve been listening to the same presentation all period, which consists of everyone sharing the objects in their bag that describe who they are and what is most important to them. I’m last to go and I can tell no one cares to hear what I have to say. I take a deep breath and begin taking the contents out of my bag one by one, giving a little description of each. I show them pictures of my family and the shows I’ve been in. There’s concert tickets and photos with my closest friends. I take out my father’s necklace, my most precious item and gently put it on my neck. Then I look down to the last content in the bag. It’s a picture of the boy who stole my heart, looking so young and carefree as he smiles back up at me. I feel the familiar stab in my chest as I stare back at it.
I remember when I was trying to figure out what to put in my bag for this assignment. I had gone to my blue memory box that I keep under my bed that’s filled with pictures and random memorabilia. As I dug through the box and begun to fill my bag with items, I had come across all the pictures of the boy that I had recently taken off my wall. In a fury of tears, I had torn them off and shoved them into the box so they wouldn’t stare at me every morning anymore. Facing them again for the first time was not any easier. I had shuffled through the photos until I had found my favorite picture of him and threw it into my bag.
Now as my eyes start to glaze over with tears, my fingers tremble on the edges of the picture inside of my little brown bag. My mind wanders to all of our memories and a bitter taste fills my mouth as I recall the last time I spoke to him. I hear someone in the class clear their throat expectantly and I’m drawn back into reality to find everyone staring at me questioningly. I blink a few times and shut my bag.
“That’s everything you need to know about me,” I shrug and hurry back to my desk.
I shove my paper bag into my backpack and refuse to let myself look at the photo again. Instead I place my chin on my palm, stare out the window, and go back to wishing that I could be anywhere else but here.