I can now see Annenberg from a distance, so I slow down to a jog. I can also see two buses at the loading zone. There are supposed to be three, so I speed up. The other one might have already left. Slowly, I get a better view of the convoy of buses. Bus A, which is the bus I should be in, is nowhere in sight. After all, it's already 6:00. I start running again because right now, it looks like Bus B is about to leave as well. I run faster, I can barely breathe. I'm about 25 meters away when Bus B's driver decides to leave. He must not have noticed me running towards their direction. I now want to scream at the top of my lungs, but I no longer have the energy, thanks to the facts that I neither had a proper sleep nor a proper meal.

Finis.h.i.+ng this one last pa.s.sport activity would be the first good news of my day but the prospects of this happening is close to nothing. Bus C is now my last hope, and I could not miss it. Not now. Not today.

I have to do something that would get the driver or any of the pa.s.sengers' attention. I want this "something" to be the right balance of subtle and eye-catching. A cartwheel? I've never really done one and I'd probably fail unless the odds grant me beginner's luck. Shout "wait!" It would definitely take the attention of the bus driver and everyone else. But then again, of them might be my professor or dorm proctor, and I don't want to risk it. Nope; bad idea.

What else? What else is there? I raise both of my hands and waive them like crazy. It would probably be noticed by the pa.s.sengers of the bus, especially those who sat on the side adjacent to the path I'm running in. It's a struggle to keep on holding them up with the heavy shoulder bag, but I do it anyway. I'm pretty sure that I look like a fool, really, but my looking like a fool is necessary, and I just hope that it's worth it.

I continue doing this—the hand-waiving, that is—for a bit more because no one is noticing me. Desperate, I decide to cut the distance from the bus and the pathway short. I'd be more visible by running through the gra.s.s area, which didn't have any sign about not walking over it. Besides, if it were, I wouldn't have done it. There is no way that I want to get in trouble.

I leave the pathway and head for it, half sprinting, half skipping. I jump every now and then because the blades are wet. Now that I am closer to the bus, closer to succeeding, one of my flip-flops decide to give up. Its strap loosened and eventually cut off from the flip-flop itself. Thanks to the running I did since five minutes ago, I left my left foot's support a step back and stepped on something mushy.

"s.h.i.+t!" I shout. My scream was brief, but it was ear splitting. Everyone's eyes are now on me.

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I lower my gaze, and literally freeze. I no longer want to move. I'm no longer interested in catching the last bus. I just want to go back to my room, clean myself up, and go to sleep. Standing on the exact spot I was in when I gave out that not-so-little shriek, I take a closer look at my foot and realize that it was just mud. And boy did I want to wipe it off right now, right at this very minute.

While balancing on one foot as I wiped the mud off my left foot, I heard someone approaching me. The footsteps were light and quick, like the person was running. I want to see who it is, but I'm more focused on keeping my balance. After all, my right foot is supporting my whole body right now since I have my left foot raised a few inches off the ground. I'm still holding my bag filled with books, I might add.

"Are you alright?" the person asked.

It was the voice of a boy: deep, full, and somehow, caring. For some reason I cannot quite fathom, it's as though I've heard it before. I want to answer and tell him that I am not okay. I am far from being okay.

I am sleep-deprived, wrongly dressed, and late for an event I almost forgot about. This was what I thought, but I didn't want to come off pessimistic. Just when I try to look up to tell the guy that I am okay, I lose my balance. I break my tree-pose, and before I know it, I'm falling.