Only You (Punk Michael Clifford)

One

Beep, beep, beep.

"God dammit," I mumble to myself. I blink rapidly as I try to avoid the light peaking in through the curtains, blinding me every time my eyes open. I reach over to my nightstand and hit the snooze button on the alarm clock that haunts me every morning. I had already hit it twice and knew that I was going to be late, but I could care less.

"Wake the fuck up, you're going to be late!" Just as I almost fall back asleep, I hear my father yell from the hallway. I knew that if I didn't get up, he would barge in here; that's the last thing I needed today. A few seconds later, I hear four loud bangs on the door. 

"I'm up! Jesus Christ," I yell as I force myself out of bed.

"You better be ready to leave in ten minutes, that's when I need to leave and I don't have time to wait around for your slow ass to leave since your car is behind mine!" He yells from the other side of the door. 

I sigh and hear him walk down the hallway a few seconds later. I walk to my dresser and pull out a black Green Day t-shirt and a pair of black skinny jeans. I don't even bother with my messy hair, I let it do what it wants. 

As I walk into the kitchen, I don't make eye contact with my dad who is sitting at the table eating a plate full of eggs. I look over to the stove to find an empty skillet; of course he didn't make any for me. I debate on skipping breakfast and getting the hell out of this house, but can't ignore the grumbling that is already coming from my stomach. With that, I walk over to the pantry and scrounge for any food I can find that has not expired. Not wanting to be in my dad's presence anymore, I settle on a granola bar. I quickly shut the door and walk out, not saying a word to him.

As I start my car, A Day To Remember blares through the speakers. I no longer flinch at the loudness for I am used to it. 

When I arrive at the hell hole that I will be attending for the next 180 days, I turn the car off and walk to the trunk. I retrieve my old, beat up backpack that I have used for the past four years. There are many rips and tears in the black fabric, but I didn't care. I wouldn't be using it outside of school anyways.

I didn't want to be starting my senior year for the second time, but I also didn't want to do shit. I didn't do a single thing last year, it's no wonder I didn't graduate. I'm surprised that I even made it to senior year. 

I make my way to the front office of the building and walk up to the same lady that had been giving me my timetables ever since freshman year. 

"Good morning Mr. Clifford," she says in the same voice that I always remember. "Ready for this year?" She asks with a smile as she hands me the piece of paper.

"Do I look ready?" I ask.

"I know you'll do great this year, I have faith in you." How she was always so nice, I had no clue.

"Whatever helps you sleep at night Mrs. Kingery," I say as I am already walking away from the desk and out of the room.

I walk down the busy hallway and to my locker that has been in the same spot for the past four years. As I walk, I look over my timetable for a few seconds before stuffing it into the front pocket of my bag. I open my locker easily, unlike some other students around me that must be freshmen. I laugh to myself and shut my locker before walking away. As I walk to my first class, english, I see a smaller boy struggling to stuff all of the unnecessary notebooks and papers into his bag. As I walk past him, I laugh out loud and slam his locker shut.

"Hey!" I hear him say from behind me. I continue walking and shake my head.

When I get inside the familiar classroom, there are a few other students that I don't recognize. I never paid attention to any of the classes below me, so all of these faces will be new to me. A face that I do recognize, however, greets me from her desk.