without further ado

iv. thank you for the music

dedicated to sky cause she's so nice

and likes the sky is everywhere more than me

plus, she's super fetch c;

chapter four

mother says i was a dancer before i could walk

she says i began to sing long before i could talk

-thank you for the music

 

♫

'clyde! breakfast is in the microwave, lunch money's on the table and remember your bus pass! have a nice monday, bye sweetheart!' his mum called up the stairs as she left the house in her trademark pair of clickity clackity heels she wore- wherever and whenever.

'yeah, bye mum!'

dad had left an hour previous, leaving clyde –the only person home- to shake off the last moments of sleep and stumbling into the bathroom. being an only child he had the house’s main bathroom all to myself. there was no need to pound on the door when a younger sister was straightening her already straight hair or when a little brother was sleeping on the potty. a sweet, silent bathroom- all to himself.

a bladder emptying session, a shower session, a uniform clothing session, a choosing watch session, a watch-putting-on session and a teeth cleaning session later he was ready for breakfast... and school. not really.

by the time he got downstairs he could no longer smell the aftermath of his mum's perfume. what he could smell, though, was a plate of scrambled eggs in the microwave and after that had disappeared down his throat a cup of orange juice followed. quickly, he looked at his fluro orange snap on watch. 07:16. two more minutes before he had to leave for the bus stop. crap.

his bag was quickly packed, followed by his black lace-up school shoes over his feet and a quick swipe at the kitchen table for lunch money and his bus pass. he was ready for school. not really.

7:19. one minute late. crap. run.

he reached the bus stop in a record timing of two minutes and thirty-six seconds (if his math themed watch was correct) and was puffing when he came to a stop at the bench. another lady caught the bus with him, ms. hodeen. now, the thing was that ms hodeen loved to talk. he knew she had two kids (olivia and fredrick) whom, combined, had a total of five kids (sarah, jesse, lena, mena and an unfortunate named rabena [pronounced ribena]). he also knew ms hodeen had been a nurse but now went to the shopping centre every weekday morning and bought stamps and bread rolls (she liked stamps almost as much as he liked watches).

'nice watch, clyde, you know, my son had one just like that.' she pointed at his new beige watch as she continued her monologue. he smiled and nodded. mr hodeen had passed just last year and mrs hodeen had taken it hard. really hard. just as ms hodeen was getting up to an exciting part of her story (her son, fredrick, almost drowning in their swimming pool when he was five) the bus arrived. he looked down at his maths watch. the hour hand was just past the 5x2-3=7 and the minute was almost half way around the clock’s face, 4(2+4)=24. it was 7:24. just on time. he liked it when things were on time.

the bus doors opened with a slow, creaking swoop as he stepped aside to let ms hodeen on first. when he had gotten inside the old bus the doors closed behind him, almost as if they were locking him in this dusty place. he showed the driver his bus pass as he ambled down the aisle to his seat. his seat was at the very, very, very back. it was the comfiest out of all [in seventh grade he’d sat on every seat to test them out and the back was indeed the nicest] and that was why he sat there. plus, he could see everything and everyone from the back. he was always watching, never being watched. everyone on the bus had their own seat. there was ms hodeen at the very front, bert on the right, near the middle of the bus and yang shu who sat three seats in front of clyde himself.