The Adventures of Freckles and Pony Boy

High School Really Sucks Sometimes

A huge wave passed overhead, and with no time for anything but to stare, a two-tone haired teen gaped up in complete awe. The day had begun with a thundering rain; the sky was heavy with grey clouds, the air was so thick in humidity he could probably choke on it, and of course, he woke up 50 minutes late. He missed his bus, and in haste, forgot to eat breakfast. After waiting some more due time for the next bus, he realized he couldn't quite remember if he had brought his math binder with him.

The wall of water was only there for a second, but after his eyes blinked by reflex, he saw nothing but the lines of falling rain. A moment later, bit by bit, he felt the heavy water seeping through his clothes, soaking him down to the insides of his shoes.

"GOD Damn garbage truck", he scowled quietly to himself and crossed his arms violently across his chest with a huff as he watched the offending machine speed off down the street.

His golden eyes were smoldering, and he couldn't rip the menacing look off of his face. Not even when the next bus arrived.

He knew he was late to school, he was hungry, his hair was definitely ruined, he might not get his homework grade in a certain class he isn't doing too well in, and for fuck's sake his sopping converses were echoing their squeaks throughout the entire interior of the bus.

Jean took a seat near the middle of the vehicle, due to all of the front and back seats being taken, and placed his bag into his lap to supervise it. He can have a shitty start to his day, but he isn't going to be robbed. Reaching into a side compartment, he had to shift uncomfortably between the people seated next to him as he took out his phone, quickly checking for any moisture, and clicked the screen to life.

"Oh! How nice, so great. Just real fucking great", he hissed to himself as he looked onto the notifications, not noticing the disapproving glares he was receiving for his language.

For one, no messages from his boyfriend that typically tells him good morning.

Two, his teacher texted to let him know to make sure to do all the EVENS of the calculus problems. He had no homework, and even if he had brought the binder, he did all the odds.

Three, his mom texted him a picture with the caption 'Did you forget this or is it your extra one?', it said.

It was a picture of his inhaler.

No, it isn't the extra one.

***

Moist air flowed through his lungs like old lobster bisque, his watch read 2 minutes to make it to 1st period on the 5th floor in time, and a rising sense of anxiety from his lowering grades was the worst start to a morning in his entire life.

He reached the top floor of the school building in record time, hands grasping onto his knees while he wheezed, and decided he needed to sit down. Jean sat a few paces from his classroom door, so he decided he'd get up when the teacher was coming to close it at the start of class. He lowered himself to the top step, moving aside for any passing students, and tried to clear out his breathing.

He shoulders began shaking with his gasps, and he silently chanted to himself, 'Calm down, you can do it, everything will be okay'. Jean kept pushing air in and out of his lungs uncomfortably, and he silently wondered how absolutely SOL he is right now. The nurse's office was 4 floors away, he had a phone but he couldn't talk without gasping and sounding like a dying fish, and texting was so unreliable because he didn't knowwho was at their phone right now, or if they could come to his rescue immediately.

'Shit! Breathe now, think later!', he immediately snapped himself back into it as he almost felt dizzy enough to lay across the stairs.

What had he done last time again? In through the nose 1, 2, 3, 4, out through pursed lips 5, 6, 7, 8-