19. Monday

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2016/02/29 Monday

Generally, Mondays are pretty boring days. But since I broke my foot on Friday, today's been as interesting as a Monday can get. For example, lessons went on as usual except for all the parts where Mr Bowie stopped explaining the chemistry work to stare at my face and go are you listening to me? And admittedly, I wasn't.

Instead I was enjoying myself in the time of completely idiocy but I nodded along and said yes every time because I think it would look bad if I looked him in the eyes and said no, not really. Which is what I felt like doing. I'd been in a considerably good mood, in contrast to how I'd been since Pete got diagnosed.

It might be due to the fact that I only slept for 2 hours last night, but it didn't matter why I was in a good mood: all that mattered was that for the whole of today everything had been absolutely hilarious. Gerard tried to carry my out of the shower but he slipped on the wet floor and we both hit the floor. But the sound of my wet butt against the bathroom tiles was amusing and it kept me entertained for hours afterwards.

Even during my lesson – I had to take a break early because I'd started laughing at the memory. Mr Bowie seemed highly worried and, quite frankly, completely confused and utterly bewildered. But I guess he thought it was an improvement to the sorry-ass Mikey who he'd been giving lessons to lately because he didn't say anything.

I didn't tell him what was funny – I'd looked up to Mr Bowie for as long as I could remember and, for a while, he was the only person in the world who thought I was smart. I didn't want him to change his mind because I hadn't had enough sleep.

Andbutso, lessons went on as they always did, except for the parts where I laughed about the sound of my naked butt against the wet, bathroom tiles. Mr Bowie seemed confused through most of it, which had never happened before, and his face seemed funny enough to send me on another laughing spree where I laughed for a full 20 minutes before I calmed down.

During literature, while Mr Bowie tried to explain Pride and Prejudice, I thought about the sound of my butt and I didn't even laugh this time: I skipped right to part where I was crying and grinning at the same time. Mr Bowie, at this point, seemed more worried than confused and he told me that I wouldn't have any homework today.

He left early again and when I turned my phone on I had 7 missed calls from Pete and a ridiculous line of texts that went as follows:

mIKEy WaY

PiCK uP ThE fuCKInG pHOnE

WhAT tHE fuCK hAVe YoU DoNE

I STG MiKEY

YoU"Re RidICULoUS

WhAT ThE FuCK

AnSWEr ThE PHONe

I'M CalLING YOU

I laughed for a second longer (I laughed continuously for the next 3 hours) and then decided that I should probably call him to hear what was going on. I don't know what I was expecting when he answered but it sure as hell wasn't his voice screaming down the line ARE YOU INSANE? I was quiet.

I wanted to laugh but I knew that now was probably not a good time to laugh at him. He sounded angry and worried. And I didn't think either of those were good feelings to have. JUMPING OFF THE BUILDING? I felt guilty, then.

WHAT IF YOU DIED, MIKEY? I didn't know what to say, so I didn't. I stayed quiet like a child who was being scolded by his father. The thought of calling him daddy crossed my mind and I had to remind myself that I was being yelled at so that I wouldn't laugh again.

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