Cheerleaders Don't Cry

19

Albert Cooper

Wednesday night, I fell asleep at my desk while I was studying for an AP Civics unit test. The next morning, I woke up with a crease on my face from sleeping on a textbook, and with my alarm clock blaring angry red numbers at me: 8:23.

Naturally, I panicked.

I arrived at school at 8:56, hair matted and damp from the world's quickest shower, wearing wrinkled clothes that I'd picked directly off of my bedroom floor. I skipped going to my locker and headed straight for second hour, AP Psychology class. With a minute to spare, I arrived and nearly collapsed into a chair in the back row.

A guy named Brett was sitting in front of me. He was chubby around the edges, and had close cut dark hair and brown skin. Him and I hung out with the same group of friends, but the only time the two of us actually talked was during this class. It wasn't that I didn't like him - we were just two very different people. Brett was a much friendlier person than I'd ever be.

He turned in his seat and adjusted his glasses to look at me. "Woah, you look like hell, Cooper."

"Thanks," I muttered, resting my head on my arm. The fluorescent lights in the room were hurting my bleary, sleep-deprived eyes. "I woke up late."

Brett snorted. "Yeah, and you missed the Civ test too." He patted my arm in an assuring manner. "Don't worry, it was easy. All multiple choice."

"Seriously?" I asked.

"Yeah. Most of the class was finished within a half hour."

The teacher, Mrs. Leibowitz, entered the room just as the bell rang. Brett turned around in his seat to the front of the room, as Mrs. Leibowitz launched into a lecture about something-something-something, instructing all of us to get out our textbooks and turn to page something-something-something. My textbook was in my locker, and I was too exhausted to even dream of paying attention. Instead, I opted to lay my head on my desk, shut my eyes against the too-bright lights, and attempt some semblance of sleep. It must've worked, because a while later, I aroused to the sound of the bell ringing, and something prodding my arm. When I opened my eyes, Mrs. Leibowitz was staring down at me. She was a middle-aged woman, early 40s, I estimated, of East-Asian descent, judging from her angular eyes and yellow-tan skin tone. Her dark brown hair had lost its shine, but there were no signs of gray in it yet. There were slight wrinkles around her eyes, and dark rectangular glasses perched on her nose.

She was poking my elbow with the eraser end of a pencil, and a smile curved her lips when I woke.

"So good of you to join the class, Albert," she said calmly, at a level volume. I could never tell when she was upset or pleased with a student. For both scolding and praise, she always used the same voice.

I sat up and looked around the room. All of the desks were empty.

"Albert," Mrs. Leibowitz sat in the seat in front of me, where Brett had been. "I know you think I haven't noticed, but I have. You have a tendency to doze through my lectures."

"Oh, I wasn't - " I started.

She held up her hand, and I stopped talking. "I'm not angry, Albert," she said. "You have an A in the class, and you perform well on tests and assignments. Psychology is clearly not a challenge for you. However - " She leaned forward in her seat, the pencil she'd been prodding me with now cradled between her fingers. "I am concerned for your mental health. You've slept through my class period every day this week. I know that you take several stressful courses, but I would hate for your ambition to impede on your stability." Mrs. Leibowitz smiled. "Get some rest, before you burn out."