Some Days

Chapter One: Why Time Travel Will Be Unlikely in a Billion Years

As I walked through the unfamiliar halls of yet another new school, I thought about the unrelenting constant stares that went right through me. I had this uncanny ability of feeling that everyone was staring at me even though they weren't and they didn't really care.

My name is Monday and I don't really have a lot of friends. Mostly because my family never stays in one place for more than a year, but really because I just can't do the socializing thing. I was and always will be the epitome of insecurities and lack of self worth. I mean, when your mom names you Monday, and your older sister Friday, you can't really help but feel a little bad for yourself.

If you still don't get it, everybody hates Mondays, and everybody loves Fridays. Yes, I do overthink that much. I don't know what kind of psychopath would name one daughter after the most hated day of the week and name the other one after the best day of the week.

For what its worth, I hate Mondays too.

My family never stays in one place because my mom's job makes her constantly move. So me and my sister, being her unwanted baggage, are forced to move along with her. My mother fears commitment. I'm pretty much convinced that my dad left us because of that. Leaving the woman he once loved with two little brats that will eat off her pay check. Well, before she could leave him anyway. That's the best way to go when you'd rather not deal with all the problems that come with having a family. Kind of like me and my sister were punishment for being a really bad wife.

Even though I wasn't much for socializing, my sister was. She had this habit of falling in love every year. Every time we moved she would be convinced that this guy was her soulmate and then he'd shag her and she would act all clingy and totally in love with him, but by the end of the year the guy would end it with some its not you its me bullshit. And the cycle went on and on. Imagine having the same car ride every year only switching destinations. My perfect sister bawling in the front seat, and my mom just clenching and unclenching her jaw in frustration. Me, on the other hand, I just sat quietly in the back seat, anxious to get out of the car and in to another generic house with peeling paint and that used house smell.

So here I am, in a decrepit high school in Illinois, trying to find my way through the endless stream of students just wanting to get through the day.

I have never been one to talk much. I have never had a lot of friends. At my last school, all I really had was one friend and although I knew that my sister would save me a seat at her table; I didn't like sitting next to her. She was mean and nasty in a way that didn't seem very obvious to most people. But I knew better.

At lunch time I used to eat outside with my friend. But I don't have any friends and it was too cold to sit outside. I knew I would have to sit alone, but I didn't want to. Because even though I was used to being alone. Being alone made me feel sad. Sometimes I think I forget that there's a difference between wanting to be alone and being lonely. Feeling even more lonely by sitting alone in a room full of people with their friends wasn't really on my agenda. So I skipped lunch and decided to look for my locker.

Everybody seemed to emanate some kind of togetherness with a certain group and a kind of go away sign that was very clear to me. The school was like a complicated maze that annoyed the hell out of me. Every single time I thought I had found my way I turn to another unfamiliar hallway and I find myself exactly where I as five seconds ago.

After half an hour, I managed to find my locker but all my attempts to open it failed.I shook the locker door and put in the combination I was given five times with no such luck. My day was turning out to be frustrating on a whole new level. It was bad enough that I tried thrashing the poor locker. When I realised that my hand was starting to hurt, I stopped trying.

"Are you okay?" someone behind me asked seeming amused by the fact that I was picking a fight with my locker. I nodded and turned to walk away because most of the time that's what people wanted me to do.

He stopped me.

And that's when I turned to look at him. Because whenever I turned to go away, no one ever stopped me.

"You're new here right? Can I help you with something?" he asked tilting his head slightly to one side as if he seemed curious. But I definitely couldn't believe it because no one was ever curious.

"I'm just having some locker problems." I shrugged. "I'll be fine."

"Wait, I can help you." the boy smiled and his eyes crinkled ever so slightly and I couldn't help but notice how he was one of those people. He was one of those people whose eyes smiled. "What's your locker number?"

I gave him the slip the office gave me and as if it was humanly possible, his eyes smiled even more. The boy put his hands on my shoulders and made me take one step back. He had brown hair that was most likely slicked back when he did it but locks of it went down his forehead. The kind of hair that seemed long and short all at the same time. He pointed to the top of the lockers. Each locker was labeled with a corresponding number on the near top of the locker door. "Those are the locker numbers."

"Your locker number is 276 and you are currently assaulting locker number 275." He gave the slip back to me, put his hands on my shoulders again, and placed me in front of the right locker. "I'm sorry. I'm kind of out of it today."

He goes to the locker I beat up and opens it. "I'm sorry I did that to your locker." I say, gesturing nervously to the locker door that was on the verge of being completely damaged.

Smooth.

He shook his head. "Don't worry about it. It's not my locker. I'm just picking things up for a friend."

At that point I knew I had to walk away. I knew I shouldn't abuse his tolerance or test his patience. So I did what I always did. I smiled and walked away. And as I walked away I heard a locker door slam shut behind me. A few seconds later the boy caught up to me.

"Hey, I'm Nicolai. What's your name?" Nicolai asked as he very slowly lifted his gaze to meet mine.

Wow.

Nicolai had a dimple right below his lip and on his chin. It was adorable. Suddenly there was this like giddy feeling inside of me that just found him so adorable and likeable. Every instinct I had was telling me to either melt or jump and sing a happy song. And his lips were so thin and perfect and they just made you imagine what exactly kissing him felt like. Because I had no doubt that he had the most perfectly shaped lips in all of human history. Whoever said Angelina Jolie had the most perfect lips, has clearly not met the boy standing in front of me.

"I'm Monday." I said as I smiled nervously.

Okay so let's be real here. My name is Monday, and no one really attempts to get to know me because I am vastly uninteresting. I have short black dyed hair because my mom thought it would make me stand out. That worked about as well as a North Korean rocket launch. To top it all off I have an average everything except for my below average butt.

So a boy named Nicolai that that had perfect lips, smiling eyes, and a gaze that turned me on, actually talking to me and helping me with my locker problem was highly unlikely.

That was an understatement. The universe must have had to postpone time travel another billion years just to get this to happen.

But then Nicolai asked the most annoying question that anyone could ask when your name was Monday.

"Monday? Like the day?" he asked.

It took quite a substantial amount of resistance to stop myself from giving him all the sarcasm I had.

"Yes, Monday. Like the day." I answered.

I knew fully well that my attempt to hide my irritation failed. Because Nicolai scratched the back of his neck, shook his hair, and looked sideways.

"Do you want to have lunch with me and my friends?" He asked.

I guess time travel really won't be here for another billion years.