The Beginning, Unfortunately

Chapter One: Good morning...or not so much.

Nate Wright could have sworn he'd just laid down three minutes ago. Yet that sound--that horrible, terrible, soul killing sound--was without a doubt his alarm clock. He pulled the blanket over his head, groaning and almost in actual tears. Nate had been dreading this day all summer; in fact, before summer had even begun he was hoping to God the first day of ninth grade would never come.

But, despite his most earnest wishes, it had arrived at long last. So he got up, begrudgingly, coming to the conclusion that he might as well face it.
It had to be better than middle school, right?

Except there were some definite signs that it might be worse. Mainly the merging with Jefferson--gag--and the inevitable reappearance of Randy and Marcus and Nolan.

At least he'd get to see his friends more than he could over the summer. And he was definitely looking forward to the reunion with Artur Pashkov, whose English was almost perfect now. Nate had been on a separate continent from him for far too long, since he'd been gone for the last two weeks of summer to visit his family in Belarus. Artur texted him at 3 am overnight saying he was back. He was bound to have extreme jet lag.

Since sixth grade, and the surprisingly honest confession of mutual jealousy they had shared, the two had only grown closer. Nate still considered Francis Pope his best friend, since they'd been like brothers since kindergarten, and Teddy Ortiz was basically the same level of friendship but for a shorter period of time. Dee Dee Holloway, Chad Applewhite, Maya, and, weirdly enough, Chester, were very close friends, too. But Artur Pashkov managed, somehow, to surpass them all--even Francis.

Nate, now in a slightly better mood, opened the door to his closet in order to hunt for the perfect "first day of high school" outfit. Not that he cared about his outfits or what anyone thought. That described the wrong Wright--his older sister, Ellen, now at college.

Speaking of another wrong Wright, Nate's dad was suddenly in the doorway, looking completely shocked he had actually woken himself up. The morning routine Marty Wright was used to had him shaking his son repeatedly, screaming, ripping the blinds open, and in extreme cases confiscating Nate's covers. Most of the time it was all necessary in order to force him out of bed. That he'd gotten it done on his own and was now getting dressed was, well, shocking.

Perhaps Nate was right--maybe he'd be different as a high schooler than he was as a middle schooler.