‘wrong’ way

4:15. Schools out. I walk to the metro. Down the block, take a right, under the bridge, another right, up the escalator.

Everyday at the metro, I wish I could go on the train the other way. All of my life I’ve gotten on my train that’s headed to my house. That’s what my parents have taught me, from day one. In fact, it’s probably the most important first step to getting home. But my route home takes me underground; the dark, stuffy, bleak underground. And everyday on that ride home, I hate it. Why would I look out of the windows at brown pipe lined walls? If only my house was the other way. That way stays above ground. From the elevated platform you can see a sector of the rail roads that lead the train; above ground. And so I sit, because I know that I have to get home and finish my homework just so I can leave school the next day to do it all again.

4:15. Schools out. Down the block, take a right, under the bridge, another right, up the escalator.

It was today--a warm day for a February day, with sunshine and moisture in the air--that my brain fished through my scrambled thoughts and surfaced with an idea: go the other way. I stood, my small feet satisfied with the comfort of the ground, and contemplated my eagerness to this thought. I have homework, I thought, but then again, who doesn’t? Before my brain can process it, my legs hurry me to the other side of the platform. Brown hexagon tiles rush beneath my converse, streaming underneath me and then...they stop, still. I’ve made it, but why hasn’t anyone congradulated me? I ponder this thought scrutinizingly. But a recognizeable face pushes out that thought or two, no wait, I don’t recall...I see two girls who go to my school. Friends. They walk to the side I usually do. One of them glances at me, well, more of my feet then my eyes. Nervous? And then her curious eyes shoot down, blonde hair enveloping her face. She scurries after her friend, trying to pretend I didn’t see that. But I did, and it makes me chuckle. Me, embarassing to be seen with me? Huh. And there it is again, a thought. What if, maybe, she glanced at me and wondered why I was going that way. Did a thought shoot through her sun crowned head as to why I was going that way, and not home? And then I remind myself no one knows that I’m going the wrong way. And realizing that, it makes it even better. People think I’m going home. Hah, aren’t they fooled. Out of all these people, I’m the only one who knows why this girl is going this way. So this is my own little secret, I realize. The face of the bus appears around the curve. The curve, this is the first time I’ve seen this curve. Out all the times I’ve been on this platform I’ve never looked at that curve, and when would I if I hadn’t decided to do this. This reflection satifies my famished hunger for adventure, and so as the train invites the passengers to set forth on their route home, I join them. I weave through these “other way routers” and plop down on a bench, exasperated by this rebeliousness. But wait. I get up pushing my way to the doors, biggest windows in the house, remembering why I've made this decision. Face positioned in front of the glass, the train pulls away from the station.