Lessons from a Rude Boy

Homework Can Wait

          My alarm buzzed next to my face the next morning, I quickly shut it off so I wouldn't wake Izzy. I slid from the bed and silently made my way to the bathroom where I had set out my running clothes the night before.

            As I stepped out into the brisk morning air the clock on my iPod let me know it was 5:20 am and time to start running.  The voice of John Phillipe, my French teacher filled my ears as I ran down the empty streets.

            "Bonjour la classe. Aujourd'hui, nous allons aller plus conjectures verbe," I concentrated on his lecture as my feet carried me through my neighborhood. My French mid term was coming up and although I spoke the language fluently I wanted to be sure that I had not missed anything during this week's lectures. He droned on about verbs as my feet thumped softly against the pavement, I had to stop myself several times from speaking out loud when he asked questions.

            An hour and a half later my body was screaming, drenched in sweat as my house came back into view.

            "On y est presque!" I cried as my feet started moving faster. Almost there, I repeated in my head as the bushes in front of house came into focus, but there was a strange car parked in front of my mail box.

            There was a figure standing outside the car looking up at my house, I turned to follow their gaze, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. The closer my body carried me the more the stranger became a familiar body, Mason.

            "Merde," my voice apparently carried because he suddenly turned to me and smiled. My run slowed as I came closer to him, I didn't want to see eager for his company, no matter if I was or not.

             "Qu'est-ce que tu fais ici?"  I asked, yanking my head phones out.

            "Could you please say that in English?" his voice was amused as I blushed.

            "What are you doing here?" my voice was sharp now with embarrassment.

            "Well I wanted to wake you up with the very tempting offer of breakfast," he held up a McDonalds bag, "but you are some kind of freak robot that wakes up before dawn," his insult was uttered with a smile.

            "Not all of us can eat junk food all day long and still manage to look like we work out all the time," his grin grew.

            "Did you just complete my body?"

            "No," I denied loudly, blush coming back. "I just meant...never mind," I turned on my heel, intent on leaving him behind, but he followed.

            "Do you get up this early every day?" he asked, making it very clear that he was not going to be dismissed.

            "Yes," was the short answer he received as we stepped into the kitchen.

            "Where is Izzy?" he plopped the bag down on the island.

            "She should be running down the stairs any second now," I turned my back to him to grab plates.

            "Why will she be running down the stairs?" he was craning his neck around the corner as if watching for her.

            "It's her little game, she tries to be gone by the time I come back from my run," upstairs a door shut and I counted to three and then she was sipping past.

            "Izzy!" Mason called out to her just as she was throwing open the front door.

            "Mason?" her breathing was choppy as she turned, her hair was rumpled from sleep and her clothing was in disarray. "What are you doing here?" cautiously she came back towards us as if any minute we would start trying to eat her.