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A Typical Day at School

It was a bad day to be having a bad day. And not just because I had to present the English assignment that I'd been neglecting for three weeks. It wasn't because I'd fallen asleep at six-something-or-other and gotten up at around 7:30 or so to catch the bus at 7:40-ish. It had nothing to do with the fact that I'd been up all night reading City of Fallen Angels to the end.

No.

While all of that played a part in my misery, that wasn't it.

It was picture day.

And City of Fallen Angels had ended with the world's most irritatingly, hair-wrenching, 'drop dead of horror' scream-inducing cliffhanger I had ever read.

And City of Lost Souls had been. Checked. Out.

As in: it was no longer on the library shelf. As in: I couldn't start reading it right this fucking instant!

I stared at the empty space on the shelf -- a ruddy reflection of my brain at the current time and place -- feeling too tired, hungry, and horrified to do more than blink blearily in abject terror.

"Hey!" Called a familiar, and sadistically cheerful, tenor voice.

I turned to glower at my best friend. He wasn't a very tall guy, by most standards, though he was still a good three or four inches taller than me. His black-brown hair had been buzzed short in his favorite militarily-sensible style, showing off the round-edged rectangle shape of his head. His skin was pale and smothered with thousands of freckles, his eyes the blue color of the sky just before the sun comes up. Overall, he wasn't much of a looker, though he was still cute in that evil boy-next-door sort of way.

"Nate," I greeted him, my tone deceptively light. "I'm going to murder someone. Care to join me?"

Nate gave me his typical childlike evil grin. "Sure," he said. "Who are we killing?"

I considered this seriously for a moment, then I nodded to myself, having come to a decision. I didn't know who had checked out my book, but I knew who I could take it out on. "Nicky," I said, turning to Nate and grabbing his arm so I could drag him out of the library. I think he came with me more because he wanted to than because of my grip.

Nate lived on a farm, had three older brothers (though by now they had all grown up and moved on), and a father who'd been an Air Force engineer. He was tough, and I was just a girl who liked to read and play videogames. I couldn't make him do anything by main force.

"What'd Nicky do this time?" He asked.

"Nothing. I think. At least nothing recently."

He gave me an odd look as we entered the cafeteria (less commonly referred to as the Log Jam). Then he sighed dramatically. "I told you to check the book out before the weekend started."

I cast him a narrow-eyed look. "Shut up."

He just laughed, an impish sound that nonetheless sounded genuinely light and carefree. "You realize how hypocritical that is, right?"

I did, but I was too tired to care. I wrinkled my nose at him. "I don't care."

"I don't care that you don't care," he fired back.

"I don't care that you don't care that I don't care."

"I don't--"

I gave him a flat look, and held up a finger in warning. "One more word and I'll kick you," I threatened.

"Go ahead," he said, smiling. "I'm wearing cowboy boots." Which meant he could kick me back, and make it hurt a lot more than anything I could ever do to him.

I eyed him for a moment, considering if I was really that much of a masochist. I decided I wasn't. "Shut up."

"Again with that. What is it you like to say? 'Shut up does not compute'?"

I glowered at him. "Y'know what? Forget Nicky. I'm going to murder you instead."

He scoffed, still amused. "Wooow. I feel so loved."

I then began ignoring him as I went through the line in the cafeteria (ie: Log Jam), gathering up the measly bits of food that would have to pass as a wholesome breakfast.

I took my handful of food out to the tables in the Commons area, sitting in my usual spot. The food didn't last long, and I was still hungry after I'd finished it. After throwing away the sadistically nonedible bits, I returned to my place across from Nate.

I then groaned, banging my head down on the table and staying there. "I hate Mondays!" I mumbled dejectedly. "And picture days! And I especially hate picture days on Mondays!"

Once more, Nate laughed. He truly was enjoying my pain today. I raised my head long enough to stick my tongue out at him before allowing it to thud back down on the table.

"I'm going to the gas station," Nate said pseudo-casually. "Wanna come with?"

SaveRite West was the gas station along the highway near the school. It was a high schooler hot spot. Kids went there in the morning and at lunch for a multitude of reasons. Most of which included coffee, soda, coffee, chips, coffee, the occasional hot chocolate (for aliens such as myself), and coffee. And also coffee. Can't forget that one. Oh, and snacks. People buy snacks, too.

Nate usually got me to go with him in the mornings by bribing me with hot chocolate.

"I'd be late for class," I muttered, though I knew that first period was one of those classes I'd willingly be late fore. That one and fourth.

"You'd be late for Mr. Morford's class," he said, his tone smug.

I raised my head, glaring at him. He just grinned back. I pointed a finger at him threateningly. "I want hot chocolate."

"Well, duh," he said, practically rolling his eyes.

"And pop tarts."

"So are you coming?"

I wrinkled my nose again and stuck my tongue out at him. Nate was an asshole, and most everyone knew him as such. No one knew me, so the didn't realize that he was the nice one.

He was the one that would fight for his friends -- his true friends -- tooth and nail. He was the one that wasn't ever afraid to speak his mind. He was the one who didn't turn red every time he got stuck in a social standoff. He was the one that -- as much as he said to the contrary -- genuinely cared. He actually gave a shit. And he'd never hurt anyone that didn't deserve it.

I was more... cowardly. I much preferred simplicity and straight answers to the complex nature of humanity. And I was secretly homicidal.

Sort of.

I hadn't actually killed anybody yet, but I was sure I'd get there eventually. Besides, how could I think about the joys of eviscerating Nicky when there was a promise of hot chocolate and pop tarts in the air?

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This is based on a true story. This is me telling the story. Not a fictional character. The best friend to whom I refer actually exists, and that's actually his name. SaveRite West actually exists. The school where this takes place, actually exists. I went there. This takes in 2017, near the beginning of my last year of high school.

I guess you could say this is me missing the way things had been. Most of all, it's me missing my best friend. He's moving to Utah soon, and though he's not gone yet, I still miss him.

Someday, maybe I'll show him this, and see if he remembers.

Till next time!☺