Of It All

>Maybe you can miss the first class, and if you miss the first then you can just as well miss the second.

It’s true that you’re a little bit ahead in your first period. It’s English so you’d likely just continue reading the packet of different poems that got passed out. You happen to really like poetry so you’ve already read and analyzed all of it.

>None of that quitter talk, go get some caffeine. A whole lot of it.

You can’t drink caffeine. Or, rather, you don’t like to. It makes you feel all jittery. It’s mornings like this that make you wish that wasn’t the case.

You rub at your eyes and yawn as you come to the conclusion that you’ve already sat up and that’s at least sixty percent of the battle so you can’t admit defeat now. You stand up and walk over to the dresser. You retrieve and change into your school uniform before you head out of your room and into the bathroom.



As you look into the mirror, you note that you could really use a brush; your hair is a mess. Even more so than usual. You straighten it out as best you can with just your hands, give your teeth a quick brush and then give yourself half-hearted finger guns before exiting. You resolve to tackle today head-on and that you’re going to feel OK by the end of it.

>Don't destroy the doodle. fold it up and then leave it somewhere where someone will find it. name it tim. as in, draw an arrow pointing to it and calling it "tim". make sure not to give any sort of context for anything. and don't forget to not be caught planting the doodle.

As you approach your desk to gather your school supplies you remember the drawing you hid under this book. You seriously don’t want anyone to see this. Even if they don’t know it was you who drew it. It’s too terrible for this world. You retrieve it from under the book, crumple it up into a ball and toss it into your backpack. You’ll throw it in the dumpster at the school. That way--

> Receive a phone call?

You lose your train of thought as your phone’s ring pierces the silence. You look over at it, at the foot of the bed. A phone call? You pick it up and flip it open. It’s not your work. Although you suppose it would be odd for them to call you in the morning so you shouldn’t be surprised. Your thumb is hovering over the answer call button as you try to psych yourself up to answer until you notice the time in the top corner. 5:40am. You were supposed to leave five minutes ago. You deny the call and shove your phone into your backpack and then you rush down the stairs and out the front door. You shiver as the cool morning air surrounds you so you button up your jacket.



On your way to school you think about how these uniforms would really benefit from being warmer. You don’t see the harm in trading out the thin jacket for a thicker vest or perhaps a sweater as even in the summer it never gets that hot.

You barely manage to make it to your first class with less than a minute to spare. The school day is the same as every school day that preceded it. English, math, history, chemistry, and finally culinary arts. The day drags on, but luckily it eventually passes and you’re left with the rest of the day to yourself. By that you mean the next three hours. You have to be home at five. You originally intended to go to the library after school today to find a book, but you could also just take a walk around the town and skip the book. You’re thinking that maybe you should just go home when you suddenly remember Thomas. You pull your phone out of your backpack to see if he’s texted you or anything. You have an unread message from thirty minutes ago. You open it up.

‘Hey, Arrie!’ It reads. It’s from the number Thomas texted you from last night. You frown. He spelt your name wrong.