Without a Doubt
This is, without a doubt, one of my biggest downfalls.
Here I am, a cool midnight in December, my eyes begging for sleep but my mind twirling with awareness. Maybe it’s my conscience nagging at me and my undone homework, maybe it’s Fall Out Boy blaring in my eardrums, I’ll never know.
This week, without a doubt, has been one of the worst in my life.
I get back to from Hawaii at 1:15 PM, jet lag pouring through my veins like poison. My face stuffed in a pillow, trying to drown out the light and the sounds of excitement from the rest of my family.
“Who wants to go to Pluckers?” my mother’s words dug the dagger of drowsiness deeper into my back.
This was, without a doubt, going to be a long week.
Though it was great to eat chicken wings again, and Green Day was the main soundtrack at the quiet sports bar that is Pluckers, it still took all my willpower not to fall asleep in a plate full of potato chips.
Dinner was one long groan after another.
The next day, school started. I, unfortunately, was unprepared for such an event. 2:00 AM was not my usual bedtime, but since my mind thought it was 10:00 PM, I got no sleep. I had to wake up extra early to decorate my friends locker, which didn’t completely suck, she gave me a lot of giant Sour Patch Kids.
This was, without a doubt, the best day of the week.
On the blessed Wednesday morning of the second, I was finally back in the routine of sleep scheduling: read till 11:00, sleep till 7:00. Order.
Riding the bus everyday was bumming me out, usually I was in the cafeteria for drama, but instead I’m stuck with my headphones on at max volume, a silent war raging between me and the status quo. Getting home I get to see my step-siblings, who I hadn’t seen in more than a week. My sister had gone to New York City with my dad over Thanksgiving break, and she went to almost every candy store that existed there.
There was, without a doubt, a lot of sugar consumed.
And, finally, around the corner comes Thursday. With a sponge it removes all the false optimism in my attitude, pessimism taking its place.
In athletics I’m tired, I do t want to run four laps, I am the slowest among my peers. As I reach the finish line, my friends’ cheers fuel my rage.
Second period, a mixup happens and my math homework is confiscated and not returned. One good grade out the door.
Third and fourth period pass in a blur of sameness. Not bad. Not good. Just average: the way I like it.
Lunch is lunch. I eat, I leave, it’s done.
Fourth period is math. I take raspy breaths, you’re not dead yet, you’re not dead yet…
Que the Kellin Quinn!
Olivia and I are the first to arrive as always. We pick up the warm-up and take our seats.
I guess I would call what I was doing sitting, more like…falling in a pit of fear and frustration.
Turns out the Thursday sponge sucked up more than one thing.
Ellie: Your dignity?
My luck, Sister, my luck.
“We’re doing the warm-up together.” I hear Mrs. Wissman call out to the bustling class.
I swallow the lump in my throat. Geometry is not one of my greatest strengths.
As we finish up the warmup that I hardly paid mind too, I feel my heart beat faster.
“Take out your homework so we can check it,” Mrs. Wissman says.
I sit in silence, my hands in my lap. I must’ve looked pretty shell-shocked, because a hand is suddenly waving in front of my face.
“TJ, you okay?” Olivia whispers over Mrs. Wissman’s lesson.
I blink. “I’m fine, just…homework…” I gesture to the empty spot where my homework should lay.
Olivia nods, I’d told her my predicament during lunch the previous period.
After what seems like an eternity, Mrs. Wissman has completed going over the homework. I prepare for my GPA to drop.
“Leave that in your binder to study.” she announces.
For a second I’m in denial, did she actually just say that? Did she really just say that?
I am, without a doubt, the luckiest person in the world.