Stories of the Stars

1.

The day my life became a whole load of crap started out terribly.

I mean, in books they say that it was a totally normal day, right? They say that it was a day that was entirely unremarkable, or it was a day they never would have remembered otherwise, or maybe it was even a really great day with great plans and hopes for the future. In books, they never start off the day that changed their lives for the worst with a broken alarm clock, missing homework, and burned toast. Your good luck doesn't just disappear, seemingly flying out the window screaming "bye, sucker!" That's just not how things go.

But my life isn't like a book.

My name is Jimlin Hopkins. I know, I know, Hopkins is a terrible last name, and Jimlin isn't exactly a great first name either. So maybe my bad luck started the day I was born, because couldn't I have been born to a different mom with a different last name, or at least different ideas about what children should be named? Not to mention that my dad has never shown up in my life, and I have no idea who he is. My mom says that it doesn't matter, and I'm the best son she could ever ask for, and she loves me tons, and I wonder, "Then why couldn't you have named me something normal?"

Well, anyway, the world is conspiring against me. That's the simplest explanation for what happened that day and every day after.

It was crap from the moment I stumbled out of bed, thirty minutes after the alarm was supposed to go off. I got up, groggy and a bit disoriented, then yanked on my jeans, a t-shirt, and shoes, moving frantically. I ran to the kitchen, where Mom was reading a book at the table. She was still in her pajamas. "Hey, Jimlin," she said, "what's the – Oh! We're late!" She jumped up and ran for her room.

"No kidding," I said to her retreating back. I tugged open the bag of bread and pulled out two slices, then stuck them in the toaster. I started searching through the piles of paper I'd left on the kitchen table the night before. I couldn't remember what was due today and what wasn't. I grabbed the homework I'd done the night before and shoved it in my backpack. Then I started shuffling through the rest of it. Was there something I'd missed? I sure hoped not. My grades were low enough as it was.

Mom stumbled out of her room, having hastily dressed. Then she stopped. "Is something burning?"

In a rare act of unison, we both looked at the toaster, which was smoking.

I lurched forward and unplugged it from the wall. The two pieces of charcoal I'd made for breakfast popped up obligingly. I stared at them, thinking that this was not good in any way, shape, or form.

"Wow," Mom said. "How... um... bad."

I sighed. This was not helpful. I pulled the two burned pieces of toast out of the toaster and dropped them in the trash can. "This day's not turning out that great, and I've been up for approximately ten minutes."

Mom chuckled, which I found slightly unfair. "Well, maybe we can leave now, and we can grab something on the way to school?"

"All right," I said with a sigh. I grabbed my backpack and slung it over my shoulder, following Mom out the door to the garage. I climbed into the car, throwing my backpack into the back, and started searching for a good song on the radio as my mom started the car. Unfortunately, there wasn't anything good playing – just stupid songs by stupid people with stupidly high and raspy voices. So, it was just normal American pop crap. I turned the radio off.

"So, Jimlin, Golden Pride or Blake's?"

Maybe I should explain that my mom and I live in Albuquerque, New Mexico. No, that does not mean I speak Spanish. No, that does not mean I'm Hispanic. And yes, New Mexico is a state in the United States, and it's not in Mexico. One (or should I say two) of the definite pros of living in Albuquerque is that we have Blake's Lotaburger and Golden Pride Chicken and Ribs, both of which sell breakfast burritos with lots of yummy chile. If you are one of those poor unfortunate souls who have never had a proper breakfast burrito... I pity you. Immensely.