Why was the sun up? Didn’t it know it wasn’t supposed to rise until at least 9:00? (And on some days p.m. would be preferable.) Not even having the strength to moan like I sometimes did in the morning, I simply rolled over and pressed my face into the pillow.
Fridays. Most people loved them. I wasn’t most people. Then again, most people were positive. I mean, Friday, right? Isn’t that supposed to be the best day of the week? No. It wasn’t. In my mind, it might as well have been Monday. No matter which of those awful five days it was, it still meant that there was school.
And I hated school.
Well, I knew Mom wasn’t coming to wake me up. For all I knew she was still out at the bar. Thursday nights were big. And Dad would already be at the hospital, performing his unfortunate (yet vital for the survival of our family) career of being a surgeon. Whatever. So far my future was laid out as such: buying a cheap house somewhere on the edge of town with the minimum wage I would make at Walmart. Daddy would be disappointed.
I rolled back over and checked the clock. Great, I was already late. Oh, well, what else was knew? I’d show up at school a good thirty minutes late because I’d take my sweet time getting there and then I’d get a detention.
I swear I was a record-holder for those.
Finally I forced myself out of bed. Another Friday. Another uneventful day.