Hey Monday-Sincerely, Tuesday

Tuesday-School is Subhuman, Scary, Torture.

I winced at myself in the mirror.  It was 6 am, and I had finally put on the uniform.  I hated it, even when I had adjusted the black socks so they had odd gaps and pouches, and put on my gray and black-striped skimmers, violating the uniform code, like I knew I would.  I looked at the bookbag my mom had got me, and my beat up, falling apart pack.  I loved my pack, even though now it was practically falling apart at the seams, and I detested the new bag.  It was pink, girly, and everything that wasn't Tuesday Nilson.  My old pack was black and yellow, with signatures from Monday and me written all over in neon paint.  I sighed, and dropped my new pack  in the trash.  I didn't care if my mom noticed.  I duct taped a hole in my old pack, dumped all my things into it, and was out the door.  

I was waiting for the bus, when a shiny silver car pulled up and honked twice.  The window rolled down, and Jamie Stuck  her head out like a dog on an  air-sniffing joyride.  "Let's goooo!" She shouted.  

With a shrug, I threw my bag in the backseat, then slammed the door, gripped the top of the car, and stuck the toes of my shoes in the gap between the step and the actual car.  "Okay drive!" I shouted at a confused Jamie.  She shrugged, and relayed the message to whoever was driving.  Surprisingly, this person gave up without a fight.  They sped the whole way to the school, with me shouting "WHOO-HOO!" Every so often.  The wind from the car's speed blew my hair back.  I felt so free.  But something was missing...

and that something was Monday.  I clutched the necklace he had made for me when we were little.  I never took it off, except for when I showered, and it was still pretty beat up.  When we turned a sharp corner, I grabbed onto the roof with both hands to  avoid being flung off.  The driver then screeched to a halt in front of the school,  and I jumped off the step and grabbed my bag out of the car.  Jamie hopped out, and I saw that she had her baseball cap in hand, and was wearing neon pink ankle socks with the strap shoes.  She slapped the hat on over her braids, and we walked toward the front steps together. We found our lockers without incident and unloaded our crap into them.  I dumped what I need for the first three hours into my bag, and marched off to French, with Jamie in tow, who had Spanish right next door to my class. 

While we walked, we heard whispers. 

"Is that Tuesday Nilson? Who's that with her?"

"Where's Monday?  Aren't they best friends?"

" What's with her socks?"

"Why is she hanging with Jamie Eberwhite?"

"I hope she won't get in trouble for violating the unform code."

I smirked.  I was loving the way people stared at me, talked about me.  I lived for it.  This open gossip was the only thing that enbled me to  get out of bed every morning now that Monday wasn't living down the street from me anymore.  Jamie was great, but even she couldn't replace Monday. 

I waved to Jamie, and marched into class.  Even the upperclassmen moved out of my way.  I sat down smack-dab in the middle of the room, and some people moved out of my way, while some others sat down near me, staring at me like I was a god. 

The bell rang, and everyone scurried for their seats.  The teacher, a petite woman, walked in.  She srote her name on the board: Madame Horn.  

"Welcome, class, to  French I," She stated, showing a row of over-bleached teeth.  "Normally I would start teaching you French imediately, but first, the principal is here to check your unifroms.  The first violation will allow you to be let off with a warning, but the second violation buys you a tciket to the office, where you will call your parents and have them come down to talk to the principal."  I cringed. 

The principal stalked in, scanning everyone from top to bottom.  Iosed my eyes an prayed that he wouldn't notice my double violation, but no such luck.

His eyes saw my legs and locked on like a gun aiming at a target, and stalked toward me.  Once he was in front of me, I assumed a bored, blank look and ignored him. 

"Who are you?" he asked.

I looked up, glanced around, and looked at him.  "Oh, did you mean me?" I questioned.

"of course I meant you!" he shouted, his face turning red with fury.  Oh crap.  "You're the only one in this room in violation of the uniform code, and two violations at that!"

"Well, yeah, you know," I said with a shrug. 

"What is your name?" he growled.

"Tuesday Nilson."

"Well, miss Tuesday Nilson, come with me," he said, dragging me outside.  I flashed a peace sign to the classroom and stuck my tongue out, and a few people laughed.  The dramatic exit, Tuesday style, patent pending. 

I was the only one with enough violation to get dragged down to the office, so I decided to put on a procession just to make the principal mad.  I already knew where the office was, so I skipped ahead  of him, twirling a couple times, and bounced into the office. 

By the time the principal got here, I was sitting sideways in one of the chairs, my legs slung over the armrest, like I was at home.  I looked up, pretending to be startled, like I hadn't even noticed him standing over me, with fire in his eyes.  " 'Sup?" I said, lifting my palm in greeting. 

"Call your house. Now," he said, pointing at the phone. 

"No one will pick up," I said, standing up. 

"Then call one of your parents," he said.  I started laughing.

"My mother doesn't pick up her phone on business trips," I explained,  "and my father is dead, so he won't answer his phone either."

"TRY YOUR MOTHER," he growled. 

"Okay," I agreed with a shrug.  I whipped out my cell and hit 3 on my sped dial.  Surprisingly, my mother picked up. 

"Chelsea Nilson," my mother said. 

"Hi, mom, it's me."

"Tuesday!" my mother's tone went from clipped and professional to gooey and sweet in a nanosecond.  "Hi sweetie! What's up?" Did my mother not know I was in school right now?

"I'm in trouble.  I'm in the principal's office right now, because I was trying to express myself with my choice in shoes and the wearing of my socks, and got into trouble for it."

"Give him the phone.  I want to speak with him," she said, her voice hardening.  "Because if you are in trouble for trying to express yourself, then so help me God-"I pulled the phone away from my ear, but I could still hear her ranting on about self-expression and unfairness.  

"She wants to talk to you," I said to the principal, handing the phone to him.  He took it, put his ear up against it, opened his mouth, and was abruptly cut off by my mother. 

She was screaming at him, defending me and the way I was wearing my clothes, and using a very...colorful...selection of words.  This went on for about five minutes, and when my mother was finished, he hung up, handed the phone back to me, and dismissed me from the office. 

The bell rang as I left, and I skipped off to Honors Biology, feeling quite satisfied with myself.  My first day in high school, and already my reputation was growing. 

The only thing missing from this was Monday.  Why hadn't he written me back?