I Drew You Once in Art Class

Four

Frank woke up late.

The glowing green numbers on his alarm clock ticked from 8:23 to 8:24 as he picked it up, staring at it in disbelief. He had set an alarm on his phone the night before. He picked up his phone off his nightstand. Dead. The black rectangle reflected his panicked face back at him. His bus normally arrived at 8:15 to pick him up. He'd have to walk, which he calculated, tripping over his pants, would make him about 30 minutes late. Math was first. The literal depiction of hell.
He had to get to school as soon as possible.
He pulled the brown pants to his waist and fastened them, his fingers shaking in haste. The shirt he was wearing was a little smelly; Millie had used it as a bed last night, but he was sure it would be fine. It didn't smell that bad.

It totally smelled that bad.

He got looks in the hallway as he made his way to math, a brief curious expression crossing each of their faces before identifying the source of the dog-smell, after which they would impale him with eyes of disgust, making him shrink into his frame, thinking maybe if he were smaller he wouldn't draw so much attention to himself.

He pushed open the door to his math class, feeling the eyes upon him as he hurriedly walked to his seat, his cheeks glowing red. "Frank." the teacher frowned. Frank looked up at her. "How nice of you to join us," she said coldly, the rest of the class snickering.

Frank wasn't bullied.

It didn't mean he was popular.

The kid next to him turned his head toward Frank, his nose wrinkled.

Christ.

Frank buried his head in his arms, hoping to drown inside his hoodie.