101 Ways to Skin a Hoodie

Part 1-Chapter 1

A sharp ring. The toll of the bell marks the end of classes today, and students begin to head to their lockers and pack up their things. I sit in my seat for a few more seconds, my mind not fully in the game after a late night of binging shows that I don't even really want to watch.

    "Hey, want to get a bite to eat after school today?" A voice from behind my shoulder, and I look back. Carole is standing behind me, her absent, cheery grin as present as always on her rosy face.

    "Sorry, Car. I have practice today, remember? I'm free tomorrow though, so how about then?"

    "Aww, you know I have to go down to my Grandma's on Wednesdays. Oh well, catch you at some point, then."

    I give Carole a little wave as a goodbye, and she turns and skips out of the classroom, as quickly gone as she was there. I think that deep down I did remember that Carole isn't available tomorrow, but I also just plain didn't remember. My head just feels so fuzzy today. I stare down at my desk for a few more seconds, before pushing myself up.

    I grab my books and head to my locker, quickly exchanging them for my gym bag before heading to the shower room. I change into my track suit and push the door leading to the athletic field outside.     It's a chilly day, and once all of the track team is there our instructor has us start running some drills.

    The wind breaks off of my clothes as I jog around the track. I keep running and running, my mind wandering away from my form, alighting on nothing in particular. I just can't seem to focus today. Coach's whistle rings sharply across the oval at me, and I snap back to reality.

    Now I'm walking home, the cloudy sky serving as an indicator that this is the same day as previously. Tuesday. It's Tuesday. I don't really even remember finishing up practice, yet here I am, finally off of school grounds. My backpack weighs nicely against me, full of books for subjects I need to study for.

    My house comes into view as I round a bend on the suburban sidewalk, and I cross the street to get to it. I fumble for my keys in my pocket, but find nothing except for some unused tissues and my wallet.

    Crap.

    I probably forgot them at school. I'm not really a forgetful person, but mom would still flip if I misplaced an item such as keys that could endanger our very family's safety. Oh well. I'll look for them tomorrow, nothing to be done about it now. Instead I lift up our welcome mat, grabbing the key from under the smiling sun pattern. It looks a bit eerie in this gray day, and it falls back to the porch with a dull thud as I turn the key in the lock.

    The door clicks open, and I replace the spare key in its oh-so-secretive hiding spot. I enter the house, but no one is home to greet me. Both of my parents are still at work, and my brother is who knows where. The empty house groans at me in the spring breeze, and I put away my coat and shoes before heading into the bathroom to clean myself up from after practice.

Tuesdays. Truly the Sundays of the work week. I contemplate this fact while spacing out from the homework in front of me. Wait- no no no. How did I even get up to my room? Let's see. I got home and showered, and then I watched an episode or three of Generic Television before dad got home. Right, right. Then he yelled at me to get on with my homework, and as a good student should I switched off the TV.

    I then trudged upstairs, backpack in hand, with full intent to actually get on with my work today so as not to have to rush it out in first period again. This brings us to now. Tuesday, September 17th, 4:59 p.m. Not a page of homework completed. It really doesn't feel like it's been that long though.

    With a minute to five and a bunch of procrastination under my belt I figure it's time for a well deserved break. I get up from my desk and arch my back into a soothing stretch; it's still a bit tight from track. I let out an "ahhhh-" as I stand back up, and I head over to my closet.  I pull out my hoodie, a faded red from a couple years of washing, and I put it on over my plain white T-shirt. I grab a couple of granola bars from one of my desk drawers and zip them into the of my hoodie.