Denim (Michael Clifford)

3. Friday in Blue

Another week passed and nothing happened, as usual. Michael left school for a while, I heard some kid say he got arrested for the whole stabbing thing. So shocking. Note the sarcasm. I'm just glad that for once there's drama in this town and it has nothing to do with me. Okay maybe it has a little to do with me since I kicked the bike, but nobody knows that. So no worries.

'And I know you're all young and want to party on Friday nights and do whatever it is you teens do these days, but it is mandatory. If your parents aren't able to come tomorrow, right now is the last day to hand in a signed note.' God I hate the whining sound of Mrs. Dommel's voice. Every time I hear a sound coming out of her mouth it makes me want to stab a bitch. The teacher keeps going on and on about this teacher/ parent thing that is happening tomorrow. I hate it when school tries to find its way into your personal life. Especially it that means I need to spend more time at school than usual.

'Mr. Clifford,' I look up at the teacher to see whom she's looking at. Quickly I find Michael, I didn't even know he was in this class. 'Your parents won't be able to make it again due a rare illness your mother caught during your holiday in Hawaii?' Mrs. Dommel gives him a sympathetic look, but there's something hiding behind the fake small smile.

Michael flashes her one of his famous smiles and nods his head while leaning back on his chair, balancing it on two of its four legs. 'That is correct ma'am.' He crosses his arms and leans back and forth, making the chair rock slowly on its two legs.

Mrs. Dommel walk over to the boy and towers over him, trying to make him feel small. 'Mr. Clifford, this is the exact same note you handed me last year, and the year before that. It even has the date of four years ago on it.' She sneers and with one movement of her foot, she makes the chair slam on the ground with all four legs, breaking the rhythm Michael created by rocking it softly. The loud noise makes the entire class go silent, everybody looks up from their hidden phones and own conversations. 'If you really don't want to come at least put some effort in it, because this won't work.' She whisper yells at him, sounding extremely threatening but Michael doesn't seem to care.

He crosses his arms and starts rocking the chair again. 'A boy can dream.' He smiles and earns an angry stare from a defeated Mrs. Dommel. 'Yes well, you can dream tomorrow during the very interesting conversation I'm going to have with your parents about your behavior.' She replies while walking back to her desk.

'Great.' I can vaguely hear Michael whisper sarcastically, but it's too quiet for Mrs. Dommel to hear. It's quiet for a while as the teacher goes through some paperwork, everybody is impressed by the little outburst and nobody wants to be her next victim.

One of the papers on her desk catches her attention. She picks it up and quickly scans it with her eyes. 'And Mrs. Jensen,' Tina, the girl sitting next to me, jumps up from the sudden sound. I chuckle and look up at the teacher, showing her that I heard her calling my name. 'I understand this is a difficult situation for you, but I suggest you bring a guardian or family member. '

Difficult situation? Is she shitting me? What did I do now? 'What are you talking about?' I ask her. She waves her hands, signing the rest of the class to continue studying. Some kids sheepishly pick up their textbooks and pretend to read as their eyes are glued on Mrs. Dommel and me. 'The school had no idea about your parents passing.' She says softly as she bends over my desk, bringing her face close to mine, desperate to create some privacy in the filled classroom. God I feel sorry for the person sitting left from me, having Mrs. Dommel's ass pressed in their faces. That will take a couple of years of therapy to process.

I blink a few times as I try to remember what she's talking about. Then I remind the argument of last week, in the hallway. The one that caused me to lose my sketchbook. 'I've got parents...' I look up from the desk and meet her confused eyes. They're not my biological parents, but they're my parents. My biological parents are dead, but my mom and dad are very much alive. 'But last moth-' She tries to progress but I interrupt her.