𝕌𝕟𝕗𝕒𝕚𝕣 | Max Mayfield (on hold)

𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝒯𝒽𝓇𝑒𝑒:𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒫𝑜𝓁𝓁𝓎𝓌𝑜𝑔

"Dart for short."
____________________________________

November 1st, 1984

7:40 am

The next morning, I woke up to my dad's voice calling my name.

"James, get up."

"Uh, what?" I mumbled, my face still buried in the pillow.

"Get ready, you're late for school."

I turned my head to check the clock, and my stomach sank. It was 7:40.

"Shit."

I bolted out of bed, scrambling to the bathroom to brush my teeth. No time for anything else. I ran to the closet, pulling on the first pair of pants I could find and grabbing a random shirt. A quick glance in the mirror was all I had time for before I dashed downstairs, almost losing my footing on the stairs.

"Come on, I'll drive you. Let this be the last time you're late for class," Dad said, his voice as dry as ever.

"Alright," I muttered, not meeting his gaze.

Ten minutes later, I yanked the car door open and slammed it shut, not sparing a glance at Dad. I bolted through the front doors of the school, my footsteps loud against the silence of the empty hallway. Each classroom door felt like it was closing in on me, but at last, I spotted the door to my classroom.

I pushed it open, and every pair of eyes in the room turned to me.

"Late, James," Mr. Clarke said, his tone like he'd said it a thousand times before.

"Yeah, I know, sorry," I mumbled, avoiding eye contact.

He sighed. "Go to your seat."

I hurried to my desk, waving to my friends just as Dustin came bursting through the door, looking like he was on a mission. He was out of breath, Halloween prop clutched in one hand like it was a life raft.

"Is this like a thing in your group? Showing up late to class?" Mr. Clarke asked with a raised eyebrow.

"I am so sorry, Mr. Clarke, really. Please, don't mind me, just continue the class." Dustin's voice was high-pitched, almost comical, as he scrambled to find his seat.

Once he sat, he leaned toward me and Max, whispering with a grin, "AV club, lunch."

"Dustin!"

"Yes, my lord?" Dustin said, making me snort.

"Would you care to join the class now?" Mr. Clarke asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Please, yes," Dustin said, holding up his hands in surrender.

"Alright, the case of Phineas Gage," Mr. Clarke continued, eyeing Dustin as he pulled out his book.

"Phineas Gage," Dustin repeated, flipping through his backpack with exaggerated slowness.

"Page 104," Mr. Clarke instructed.

"104," Dustin repeated, his voice echoing in the room.

"Focus," Mr. Clarke said flatly.

"Focusing, focusing," Dustin muttered, turning to look at me and Max. "AV club," he whispered again.

I nodded, and Max shot Dustin a forced smile before giving him a thumbs-up. The whole class seemed to hold its breath as Mr. Clarke's lecture continued, but my mind was already somewhere else.