And as the dawn rose over the field of blood and sacrifice he looked to his supporting character, Tom Hiddleston. They had made it this far, through that hoard of zombies and that toxic unicorn. As he turned to face him he uttered something, too quiet to understand. "What?" he asked.
....
BEEPBEEPBEEPBEEP
BEEPBEEPBEEPBEEP
And of course, the one good feeling he has in a while turns out to just be his imagination.
He slammed his hand on the clock hoping that just the force would be enough to make it stop. For once, it worked. He stumbled over to my record player and hit play. As the electric voice of Freddie Mercury started to play, he got ready to go to children prison.
Finding clothes that didn't totally feel humiliating was the easy part. For example, today he found a blue NASA shirt and some jeans that are somehow also sweat pants. And after brushing his hair a few times he decided that maybe the best course of action would be just to shake it like a dog getting out of water. That always worked. The hard part is getting past his dad. On good days, he'll be sleeping, exhausted from working late the previous night.
Unfortunately, today was not a good day. He hesitantly stepped down the stairs and into the kitchen.
"Morning pumpkin!" he said, his back turned facing the stove. When he glanced over his dad's shoulder, he saw that he was attempting to make frozen waffles...in a pan. Eggos to be specific. Sometimes I agree with him. His loss of hope is right sometimes.
"Made you brekkie!" he said.
"I don't feel like eating today,"
He hesitated, but said, "Okay but please take it with you. You need to eat at least something hun,"
He could have denied, but he made that face. The face. So he took the soggy waffles and went went outside. He heard his dad shout "I LOVE YOU!" as he closed the door.
"Love you too," he muttered. Then he grabbed his bike and petalled to school.
Chemistry was really his worst subject, but then isn't it every one's?
And as he settled down, ready to not pay attention at all he was finally at peace.
"Percy?" his friend Jim tapped him on the shoulder.
His head shot up. Ms. Jones had asked him a question.
Shit.
