Later, I would view the falling-off-the-bed incident as a sign of things to come. Shock, quickly followed by annoyance - then a sudden drop and bruises and the floor, all before my heart had a chance to slow down or my brain to fully register what was happening. It actually followed the events about to take place pretty accurately. But at the time I didn't care about mystical omens of disruptions in my life. It just hurt.
"Aahhhh!!!!" The sound of my new alarm clock sounded like a fire alarm, causing me to sit bolt upright in bed and fumble around in the dark trying to find the source of the noise. My poor brain couldn't understand the concept of "new alarm clock" so early in the morning, and I thrashed around trying to find and escape from whatever was causing the ungodly sound. My legs were still tangled in the sheets from some apparently vivid but now forgotten dream, and I was trying to free myself from them and simultaneously stop the caterwauling alarm clock - and then I was in the air. And then I was on the ground. And in pain. My flailing arms had connected with the side of my nightstand, my head had hit the floor, and my leg had hit the corner of my desk (I don't know how, it was on the other side of the room. But it was a small room, after all).
"Ugh," I groaned as I just lay there on the floor, assessing the damage to my poor, banged-up body. When I decided that nothing had been seriously injured, I slowly pushed myself off the floor. My head wa ringing. No, wait, that was the goddamn-mother-fucking-son-of-a-bitch alarm clock. I could more-or-less see now, and I narrowed my eyes at the offending black box. I picked it up and switched it off, then casually hurled it across the room.
Pushing the sheets off my legs, I lay back on my bed with a sigh. I had a headache.
"Fuck," I muttered.
After I had sufficiently recovered from my little "ephisode", I stumbled to my bathroom to survey the damage. I could already see twin bruises forming on my forearms from where they had hit the nightstand, and the outside of my right calf was slowly turning purple. I sighed and rubbed the sleep out of my eyes; I was going to look like a battering case by the time I got to school.
I quickly washed my face and brushed my teeth and did the best I could with my hair before trudging downstairs to get some breakfast. Still in the t-shirt and sweatpants I slept in, I padded into the kitchen and mumbled a greeting to my mother, who was almost ready to leave for work.
"Good morning sweetheart," she said briskly, pausing from downing her cup of coffee. "Did you sleep well?"
"Mmm"
"I see. Well, maybe next time you shouldn't sleep so late on Sunday. It keeps you up all night."
"Mmm"
"Well, it's just something to consider. Bye sweetheart, say hi to your father if you see him before you leave." she called as she walked out the door.
"Mm'kay. Bye." I called after her, before grabbing an apple and shuffling back up to my room. I quickly pulled on my uniform, pulling the navy blazer on over the hastily buttoned white Oxford.
Quickly applying a little make-up, so as to avoid looking like a corpse, I sighed as I caught my full reflection in the mirror. I could honesty just shoot myself for being forced to dress like this every day. I mean I was wearing knee socks for God's sake.
I raked my fingers through my hair one last time before grabbing my bookbag from its resting place on the floor and hurried downstairs, passing my father in the hallway.
"Morning, Iz," he said sleepily.
"Morning Dad, Mom says hi," I said quickly as I hastily pulled on my beat-up sneakers.
He smiled, "Another early meeting?"
"Yep, but she should be home by the regular time, though."
"That's good. Have a good day sweetie," he called after me.
"Yeah, you too," I replied before closing the front door and quickly walking over to my car. It was a rusty, black Volvo, which my dad had insisted I have if I was going to drive because of its "superior, Swedish-designed safety features." It was reassuring to know he had so much faith in my driving skills.
I threw my bag on the passenger seat before turning on the engine. Once I was sure it would run all the way to school. I turned on the radio, humming along to a few songs as I navigated the webs of roads to my highschool.
I pulled into the parking lot earlier than I had expected, since traffic had been unusually light that morning, so I got to park nearer to the building than I usually did. Grabbing my bag again, I hurried through the imposing oak doors and down the hallway to my locker. I had just spun the final number of my combination and was pulling my locker open when the familiar monotonous voice came over the loudspeaker.
"Would Isabelle Monahan please come to the guidance office. Isabelle Monahan to the guidance office."
I growled and slammed my locker door shut again. As I made my way down the hallway, I couldn't help wondering what this was about. Among my group of friends, I was notorious for being a goody-two-shoes, with what my best friend Mari called "a serios Jiminy Cricket complex."
I had been so immersed in the reasons why I had been called to the office, that I almost didn't notice when I walked past it. I stood in front of the closed door that said
'Mrs. Schnider, Guidance'
on it, before knocking twice.
"Come in," came a voice I recognized as one of the school's guidance councilors. I had seen her a few times because some of my teachers were afraid I was going to overload on work with all the advanced courses I was taking. Pshaw.
"Ah, Miss Monahan, thank you for coming. Sit down," said Mrs. Schnider, gesturing to the one unoccupied chair in the room.
It was then that I noticed the other two occupants of the room. They both were sitting in chairs facing Mrs. Schnider's desk. The one sitting closest to me was a boy of about seventeen, with unkempt, slightly dirty black hairthat was long and fell in his face. His eye were a surprisingly bright, clear hazel and they stared at me, an amused but friendly smile tugging at the corners of his lips. The other was another boy who seemed about the same age, maybe a little younger. He too had black hair, cut long in the front (although not as long as the first boy's) and short and piecey in the back. The sun coming from the window glinted off the rings in his lip and nose. He looked at me disinterestedly, his eyes unreadable behind black aviator glasses. I wondered what color his eyes were.
I blinked and shook my head skightly before sitting down next to the boy with the long hair.
"Now Isabelle, perhaps you know Gerard and Frank," she began, gesturing to the two boys. I glanced over at them again, but didn't reply. I knew them by sight, but nothing more. "Now Isabelle, Mr. Way here has been having a great deal of trouble finding the motivation to study the great feild of mathematics. His grades on his latest test were, well, 'pathetic' is the kindest term I can come up with," she said with a humorous smile toward the Long-Haired Kid (Gerard, I guess), who merely grinned at her and ran a hand through his hair. "His math scores are dragging down his GPA, and I really believe he could benefit from some one-on-one help. If he can get his grades up by mid-terms, I might be able to take him off academic probation, making both our lives a lot easier." She leaned back in her chair, causally tapping her pen against the desk.
"Uh, if you don't mind my asking," I began, leaning foreward in my chair.
"What's this got to do with you?" she asked with a smile.
"Well, yeah," I answered, feeling rather nervous now about the knowing gleam in her eye.
"I want you, Isabelle, to be Gerard's math tutor."
I blinked.
She smiled.
I opened my mouth, closed it. Opened it again. I bet I looked like a dying guppy.
"Come again?"
"I want you," she said slowly, gesturing from me to the Long-Haired Kid, "To be Gerard's - math - tutor."
"But-" I stuttered. This COULD NOT be HAPPENING. I can't teach someone. I don't like teaching. I don't like most people. This is not happening! "But, he's probably ahead of me. I can't teach him what I don't know!"
"Actaully," Mrs. Schnider began, with that extremely annoying knowing smirk, "Gerard is in Geometry II. You, however, are in Advanced Algebra II, so you're actually ahead of him."
"Impressive," said the Long-Haired Kid (Gerard), with an impish grin. I ignored him.
"I can't teach. I don't want to teach. Believe me, you do not want me for your teacher.
"Oh, I have complete faith in your abilities," she said serenely. "Besides, something you have in common is a certain aversion to school spirit, so you could use the extracurriculars for college applications."
"Nu-uh!" I shouted, fully aware that I sounded like a petulant eight year old. "I always do the plays. In fact, I'm auditioning for the new one on Friday. I am down with the extracurriculars!"
I stared with pleading eyes at Mrs. Schnider, pointedly ignoring Gerard's bad attempt to smother his laughter.
"You know, I'm glad you brought that up Isabelle. I was thinking, since you're all lacking axtracurriculars, why don't you all audition for the play?" She had that smirk again. I wanted to scream.
The play? Tutoring?! No! It was too much! Far, far too much! Especially this early in the morning!
I turned helplessly to Gerard, who had stopped laughing. Instead, he sat thoughtfully, before saying brightly "I've never tried out for a play before. It sounds like fun. What do you say Frankie?"
This drew my attention back to the other kid, who had been so quiet that I had completely forgotten him in my ranting.
"Sure, fine," he said in a bored tone. I couldn't tell where he was looking because of the sunglasses, but for some reason I felt like he was staring at me.
I turned to Mrs. Schnider. "Uh, just out of curiosity- what's he doing here?" I asked, gesturing over at the Sunglasses kid, Frank apparently. "He doesn't need a math tutor, too?!" I asked in a panicked voice. Mrs. Schnider laughed. The Sunglasses Kid (Frank)continued to stare at nothing, but a small smile flitted across his lips.
"No," said Mrs. Schnider, still laughing, "Mr. Iero has no problems putting his apparently brilliant mind to work, he just feels that it could be put to better use than, oh say, doing his homework. He just needs a, uh, a 'study buddy', shall we say? Someone to keep him on task and make sure that his homework gets done."
"And you want me to be his...study buddy?" I said in a pained voice.
"Uh huh" she said. Again with the smirk! I groaned and rubbed my eyes. I needed coffee in the worst way.
"Well, how am I supposed to make him do his homework? Tell his mommy? Short of physically holding a gun to his head until he uses correct paragrph format, there's not a lot I could do to force anyone to do their homework," I ranted, gesturing to my non-physically-imposing self.
Frank smirked.
Gerard giggled. I glared at him. He shut up.
"I've already spoken with Mr. Iero's parents and they agreed that unless he actaully starts turningin assignments, he will no longer be allowed to participate in certain activities. Namely thrashing about wildly onstage with a guitar."
"She won't let him come to our band's gigs and practices unless he does his homework." Gerard clarified at my questioning look. Frank scowled.
"Alright," I began, trying a different tact, "Let's say, by happy coincidence, that we all make the play you're forcing them to participate in. When are we supposed to have time for these sure-to-be-thrilling-and-enligtening math tutor/study buddy sessions?" Ha! Answer me THAT you sadistic, aging pyschoanalyst!
"As it happens," she said, with the smirk firmly in place,"the play would have rehersals Tuesday, Thursday,and Saturday, and I have you scheduled for tutoring Monday, Wednesday, Friday. It's amazing how that works out." she said, her eyes sparkling with barely concealed laughter.
I buried my face in my hands - I was out of ideas.
"Speaking of, I would like you to start said tutoring sessions this Wednesday."
My head shot up. "Wednesday!!" I sputtered, "But - but that's - that's - day after -"
"In two days," said Gerard helpfully.
"Did you see that?! He TOTALLY knew that Wednesday is in two days. This kid does not need a math tutor!" I cried desperately.
"Nice try Miss Monahan, but tutorung starts right after school on Wednesday. You may go to class now. Oh, and you three might want to get aquianted. You're going to be seeing a lot of each other in the next few months."
We all got up and walked out of Mrs. Schnider's office.
"Oh,and Miss Monahan - pull up your socks." I muttered something about Nazi psychotherapists, and I could hear her laughing as I closed the door. I reached down an d tugged up my left sock, which I had pushed down in the car, an unconscious habit.
"Nice bruise," Gerard commented as I went to pull up my other sock.
"Thanks. Corner of my desk."
"How'd you get it way down there?"
"Fell out of bed."
"How come?"
"New alarm clock."
"Ah," he said, laughing.
"God, I need coffee," I groaned. Gerard just kept laughing as he and Frank walked down another hallway. I heard his laughter bouncing down the corridor as I headed back to my locker. I spun the combination and retrieved my text books. I sighed, closing the door. It was going to be a very long year.
that's all folks.
So, voila. Y'all know the drill: please rate and message, i'll love you forever, yada yada yada.
~Brinn
