The Checklist

Nerves

The last few days have been chaos.  I've had the dating app for five days and there are already so many girls to sort through.  I've barely had any time to look at it, though.  One of the school's most popular kids, Alyssa Manson, suffered from a house fire.  We've had it happen before, and the school always does some form of a fundraiser for the family, but they always go better when the entire school is in love with one of the kids.  It's not a bad thing.  Alyssa's a sweet girl and I want the fundraiser to go well for her, but I wish they went well for every family that needed it, not just the popular ones.  Everyone has been on my ass to organize this fundraiser.  The school's student council is the one putting it on, and the president, who never does anything, put me in charge of the committee.  It was decided that tonight's volleyball game was going to be dedicated to her.  All the girls on the team were wearing blue, Alyssa's favorite color, ribbons in their hair, and blue was the theme of the night for the crowd to dress in.   All the concession stand, split the pot, and bake sale profits were going to the family.  As I said, it's been chaos.  I have to get to the game early tonight and set up the bake sale, then run the concessions with some younger council members, clean up the bake sale after the game, and then count all the money made.  It probably won't be that much.   Maybe $200, but then it's on to the next fundraiser.

I looked at the clock and took a breath of relief.  Ten more minutes of sitting in class, pretending to understand the work, and hoping I at least look productive before I go to lunch.  I can do this.  I've mostly abandoned my other friend groups during lunch unless I thought I would be wanted there.  Now I pretty much just sit with Virgil.  He makes good company.  He talks when he wants, but never about himself.  It works for me because I like to talk about myself and as far as I can tell he doesn't mind.  I think my favorite thing, though, is seeing how smart he is.  He knows the answer to everything and everyone.  Sometimes I'll ask him random trivia or math questions, and he always gets them right.  Other times I ask him to guess something about me or someone else in the school and he always gets those right too. 

Nine minutes.  I start tapping my pencil on the desk.  Math class.  I hate math class.  The teacher's nice enough and there isn't necessarily a lot of homework.  I'm just not good at it.  Nothing ever sticks, and I get bored too easily.  I look at the worksheet in front of me.  It's ten stupid problems on the quadratic function, but it's all just meaningless numbers to me.  My mind wanders back to the game tonight.  I still needed something to bring to the bake sale.  I can't cook, so maybe I'll just run to Walmart before the game.  The game's at seven, concession stand opens at six-thirty, I need to get back to the school by five-thirty, so I can set up the concession stand and get out to help with the bake sale before actually opening concessions.  Then I have to run and collect money for split the pot, announce the winner, and do another million things before the night is up.

Three minutes.  I shove my paper in my bag, not even taking the time to put it in my folder.  I grabbed my earbuds and started playing Dear Evan Hansen.  I put my pencil away and switched the tapping to my foot.

One minute.  I get up and walk to the door.  I hear Mrs. Nyph scold me.  "Mr. Prince, please stay seated until the bell rings."  I ignore her and stay at the door.  There are thirty seconds on the clock at most and by the time I got back to my desk, the bell would ring.  "Mr. Prince!" and the bell rang.  I walked down the hall to lunch, still playing out how the night was going to go in my head.  I got to the cafeteria and set my stuff down on the table we always sit at.  I debated on getting in line for food but decided against it.  I wasn't that hungry.  I pulled out my phone and texted my dad; just to let him know that I probably wouldn't go home until after the game since I had to make a Walmart run.  I craned my neck to look at the hallway.  Virgil should be here by now.  He started bringing his own food since discovering that the school food sucks, so he normally has to go to his locker before going to the cafeteria.  My leg started bouncing again and I shot a text to the council members in the concession stand with me tonight.  I swear I'm one of the only council members that actually care about the school instead of how it looks on a college application.  My phone buzzed and I checked it.