Running Late – A Short Story

The alarm clock came to life with, figuratively, quite a bang. Literally, it screeched like a seagull. Daisy had cursed its existence since the day she’d received it in the mail; all the same, she was loath to part with it, because she had to admit it did its job, and did it well. She was wide awake now, anyhow.

“TURN IT OFF, DAISY!” came a furious yell from the adjoining room. Apparently, the alarm clock had woken up the rest of the household in addition to herself.

“Daisy!?” The second call came from the kitchen. Daisy meant to respond; she really did. But before she could open her mouth and say, “Yes?”, she fell fast asleep again.

Daisy’s mother felt annoyed. She’d been calling Daisy on and off for at least half an hour. She was quite sure Daisy was supposed to be up by now. It was 7:30 and school would start at 8. She frowned and marched with purposeful step down the hallway.

Daisy herself was blissfully asleep again. It had been more than convenient for her to turn off the alarm clock. She thought she had set it for 6:30 anyhow, so there was plenty of time. Anyway, what did it matter if she had to hurry a little bit? The bed was comfortable, her sheets were fluffy, and she was feeling warm under the covers. She closed her eyes and all was good with the world again.

Daisy’s mother came in and gave her a light shake.

“Two minutes, Ma, pleaseeeee.” Her mother frowned.

“Daisy, it’s 7:35 already. You’re sure to be late; is today a day off? Are you sick?”

Daisy sat straight up again, eyes wide and horrified.

“You’re joking!” she cried, looking flabbergasted. “It was definitely 6:30 just 10 minutes back!”

Her mother handed her the alarm clock. Daisy sprang out of the bed like a shot. She was ready in record time, her mother thought placidly.

Daisy herself was in a panic. She hurried around the room, gathering pencils, lined paper, homework assignments, pieces of her shattered pride, and other assorted school paraphernalia, and stuffing it all haphazardly into her backpack, which inexplicably had managed to roll under her bed. In another ten minutes, she had grabbed a banana and her coat and was sprinting headlong down the sidewalk to the school building.

Dear God, she pleaded as she ran, stopping only to pick up articles that fell out of the backpack, Don’t let me be late, I’ll go to bed sooner than usual tonight, well anyhow I’ll try to, I have that old group project to do and soccer practice, at least don’t let me get detention God, thank you in advance from Daisy. She wondered if she should be more specific, then decided against it. God was certainly used to these prayers by now. Mr. Lynch, the school dean of students, was sitting at his usual desk in the lobby, watching like a hawk for latecomers. Ah, as usual, there was that Daisy Gilbert. For once, she’d made it in time, but just barely. She stopped to catch her breath, red-faced and wild-eyed. “You made it,” he said disapprovingly.