Disenchanted (Frerard + Petekey)

Some Day We Will Sing Again

"Good enough spot as any." Mikey spoke aloud to the surrounding trees as he plunked his overly-heavy backpack down onto a slightly damp patch of soil and rolled his shoulders. This was farther down the path than he'd ever ventured on a lunch break, but he really wanted to avoid any chance of another run-in with Hayley today.

He'd waited awkwardly in the office for a good half an hour while various teachers were paged and random kids were sent to drop off scraps of paper for him and Pete.
It really didn't amount to that much, they'd only gotten three days behind, but it required him to bring home both his math and science textbooks. He'd forgotten to ask Pete what his locker combo was, and with Pete's phone abandoned on the kitchen counter of his grandmother's house, he had no way of contacting him to ask, though he doubted the shorter boy had even opened the thing in the last six months. They'd just have to share, they shared everything anyway these days so what did it matter.

He'd haphazardly shoved the loose sheets adorned with sticky notes into his bag as the vice-principal, a short woman with a blunt bob and an irritatingly nasally voice, had read him the riot act about how he had to vacate school property immediately and was not to return until the beginning of the day tomorrow.
He'd let her ramble, mumbling and nodding at the appropriate intervals and eventually escaped into the day as the last of the dampness was fading from the air.

The plan had been to walk home, it really wasn't too far, he figured he could manage it in an hour, maybe a little more with the extra weight on his back.
It took him twenty minutes to realize that would be a catastrophic decision.

His father was expecting to pick him up from the school at twelve-thirty, he couldn't exactly show up at home without giving away the fact he was suspended. So he doubled-back, retracing the rut he'd drug into the dirt along the side of the road.

As he flopped, sweaty and exhausted from his pointless trek, onto the semi-damp trail that snaked its way around the back of the school he was thankful that at least the gas station had been open on his way back. He'd been able to stop in and buy himself some snacks.

So he dug in, setting himself up with his back on a rock and spreading the bag the clerk had given him on the ground in an attempt to keep himself dry as he began his homework. He had nothing else to do and at least this way he'd have a head start.

He popped one of his energy drinks open and shoved the other into his backpack, they'd been on sale so naturally he'd gotten a second one in Pete's favorite flavour, not realizing he wouldn't get it til much later.
The spine of the ancient tattered math book creaked when he opened it, and he admitted this whole setup would be better if he had a proper table, but his knees would just have to do.

.

At exactly 12:25pm he darted from the bushes at the edge of the path and around the far side of the building.
He knew his father would be expecting him at the front of the school, and he knew the lunch bell would ring at 12:30, letting out the masses where he'd hopefully be swallowed up, able to hide from any prying eyes of teachers or principals.

He ran in an awkward half-squat, ducking his chest and bending his knees while simultaneously taking the largest steps possible, making a beeline for the bike rack out front.
As he reached it he realized he probably could've waited in the bushes a while longer.
The wind whistled across the vast expanse of empty parking lot. The teachers parked around the side of the building and there wasn't much call for parents in the building at this time of day. He felt exposed and alone being the sole occupant of such a large area.
He shifted his weight nervously.

Should I take my backpack off so I can get in quick? Just in case?

He slid the dirty bag to the ground.