The Bell Tower

Chapter 2

The first thing to hit me is the sound of bells. I push my bed sheets forward, recoiling at the idea of facing the world. It seems too traumatizing a task, if just for today.

The bells are bad news; It means I've slept too long. But today isn't the right day to wake up. It's a good day to be dead.

Nonetheless, I do what I think is the right thing. Or maybe it's just what I'm told is the right thing. I stumble out of bed, I sloppily put clothes on that I forgot to wash. I smack some toothpaste on my teeth, grab my bag. I pass by my dad's room, whose door is left open to showcase a hungover slob hanging half off the bed. And then, begrudgingly, I leave the apartment and begin to walk to school, only 3 hours late.

The day is enchanted with the magic of the sun, which I wholeheartedly resent. I crave rain as I make my way through the same completely unextraordinary urban neighborhood I've grown so used to.

I feel the tingling of anxiety at my skin as I approach the school, knowing I would be an awkward appearance coming in 3 hours after it's inception. So I breathe heavily as I walk in, trying to maintain as calm as possible.

The attendance lady gives me an uninviting glance. "Yes?"

"Hey, I totally overslept..." My voice trails off into a mumble as the reality of how stupid an excuse this is dawns on me. I might as well have have skipped entirely.

"You slept past 12 PM?" The lady looks disgusted, and my face is lighting up a darker shade of pink by the second.

"Yeah, I just need a pass."

She shakes her head, sighing as she gets out the stubby paper. "Your name?"

"Alex," I reply.

"Teacher?"

"Smith..."

She aggressively shoves it at me, her eyes narrowed slits. "Don't let it happen again."

I swallow hard. "Okay..."

The hallways are empty. One thing I actually like about school is that it distracts you; just like the rain. All the white noise filling the air is enough to at least fill your head; akin to the feeling and sound of rain droplets slipping across your body. Both serve as a reminder of my isolation, but at least the bustling keeps my head full with shit other than the self loathing I face over my interaction with the attendance lady.

I awkwardly shuffle into the classroom, handing the teacher the pass before I plop down and settle into the highly regimented atmosphere. Sleeping in class when you arrive at school after noon somehow doesn't seem like the most respectable course of action, so instead I draw a crappy comic.

Star Katana chronicles a typical hero's journey, partaken upon by a 17 year old girl who draws a mythical blade with the ability to destroy an interdimensional species set on destroying every star in the universe. In order to save the galaxy, she must master not only the blades unique properties, but herself along the way. Eventually, if the series was ever to be completed, it would be brought to ridiculous proportions of adrenaline pumping action. But concepts never really do match the denouement of reality.

As I draw an unskilled outline of the protagonist, my physics teacher drones on with info that would likely be useful in validating my comic with scientific accuracy. But as a rebellious teenager, it's my role to reject authority and force fed education if my emotions and impulse consider this more important in the moment.

"Alex!" Oh hey, that's my name! Wait...

"What will the net force be if the box has a mass of 18 kilograms, is pushed with a force of 22 newtons, and mew is .22?"