The halls were less crowded than usual today, and the combined mood of all of the bodies present in the building seemed groggy and, almost, depressing.
Which is in no way normal for a high school in Florida.
"Kenny, where've you been, man?" someone called from behind me. As I turned to search for who had uttered my name, I saw no one, no face waiting for mine, no friend waiting to see me, just the faceless mob of high school students churning in the hallways as they scattered from class to class in the five minutes between periods.
How badly I'm waiting for summer, you have no idea in the slightest.
I want out of this hellscape, this sorry excuse for a community.
Damn, I sound more pessimistic and existential than usual today. I shake my head as if to shake away the thoughts as I step into my sixth block class quietly. I can't help feeling a little gloomy today, and everyone else's faces showed their shared emotion. I think back to last night, and what could be the cause of this zombie-like feeling. I read chapters twenty-seven and twenty-eight in my class book for Language Arts, took a shower, got a quick snack, then headed to bed around ten o'clock.
It sounds like my usual Thursday night routine, so I don't get it.
I guess I won't get a chance to think too much about it, because the lights in the classroom flick off abruptly and the presentation about the Holocaust is shown onto the whiteboard before me.
"Alrighty everyone! Today we're taking Cornell notes on the Holocaust!" Mr. Fyllmore shouts, sounding a bit too excited about such a... dark subject.
The end of the day won't come soon enough.
—————
"Hey Allison, I'm home," I call out as I step into the house. It's quiet, like usual, and judging by the fact that her bike isn't leaned up against the side of the garage, she's probably out with her friends or making a grocery run.
I slump over to the kitchen table and sling my backpack onto the floor, then walk over to the counter and flip through the cookbook laying on top of a stack of papers. Once I find something quick and easy, I lay it open on the counter and decide to go upstairs. I'm tired, and a nap sounds like paradise at the moment.
As soon as my head hits the pillow, I can feel the sleep deep into my brain, luring me into my dreams.
YOU ARE READING
Chasing Mickey; A Novel by A. Wademan (WORK IN PROGRESS)
Mystery / ThrillerWhen Michelle Little- or Mickey, as everyone knows her- goes missing on a camping trip, Kenny Swanson doesn't think much of it at first. Michelle was an acquaintance, and, really, nowhere near a friend to him, but after three days, he begins to worr...
