45 Days to Save the Bad Boy

Four

“Don’t to anything!” Breton growled.  “Just STOP!”

That’s when I woke up.

 I was standing at my window again, looking out.  This was so much harder than I thought it would be.  I figured all I would have to do is swat a mosquito on his arm to prevent malaria and my job would be done.  But after four days, I’ve only spoken to Breton twice, and his attitude towards me wasn’t exactly friendly.  Maybe I needed to move onto step 2 before I finished step 1.  Establish a connection to learn more about him.  That might work.  Just maybe, I could get Dallas to help me.  After two days, he and Breton were already friends.  How does that work with people?  It took me three years, but Dallas does it in two days.  I need to be social if I’m going to save the bad boy.  I guess in a way, this whole saving thing is helping me too.  I’m stepping out of my comfort zones, gaining a new friend, trying to help someone, and now I’m thinking of being social.  

Eventually, I left the window and fell back asleep, worried about what tomorrow could bring.

Friday started off just like all my other Fridays did.

“Bye mom, heading to school!” I called out as I ran into the kitchen.

“Do you have your lunch?” my mom replied from upstairs.  She takes longer to get ready in the mornings, so we never sit down and have breakfast together.  

“Yup, I got it!” I yelled to her as I grabbed it from the fridge.

“Yes, I have it!” she called back.  I made a face, even though she couldn’t see me.  “Don’t you make faces at me!  It’s important to have correct grammar.”  My mom knows me too well.  As I bustled around grabbing everything I needed she called down, “Did you eat breakfast?”

I peeled a banana away from its bunch and stole a cereal bar from the box in the cupboard.  “Just grabbed some now!” I told her.  Rushing to the front room, I picked up my English Lit. notebook and the few pages of homework I had.  Nothing from my bullies.  For a brief moment, I wondered how they were getting their schoolwork done, before I decided I didn’t care as long as I wasn’t doing it.  I opened the front door and stepped out, before going right back in, grabbing my social studies book off the side table next to the door and stooping down to shove it in my bag.

“Sweetheart, slow down!  You’re going to trip!” my mother laughed as she walked into the front room.  Handing me my lunch bag, which I had left on the kitchen counter, she said, “Have a nice day.  Try not to stress too much about school, it’s your senior year.  It’s practically expected that you be irresponsible.”  

“Normal mothers do not tell their children to be irresponsible towards school work.  You have a nice day too, okay?” I said happily, kissing her cheek and walking out the door for the second time.

Once I arrived at school I checked my watch for the time.  Ten minutes until school started, I was a little earlier than my usual schedule.  I stood at my locker and placed my lunch bag inside, half-heartedly fiddling with the lock.  Then I opened my backpack and checked on my books.  They all seemed to be there, thank goodness.  A few other students were starting to fill up the hallways, so I took my cue and walked to my first class of the day, with eight minutes left before the bell.

Imagine my surprise when I showed up and Breton’s group was sitting in the classroom, joking around and chatting with each other.  Brogan, Brad, and York were huddled together in the far corner, talking about something serious, but secret judging from their intense whispers.  Lucas and Frank were making paper airplanes as fast as they could, stacking them up on the desks they were sitting in.  Jelly Bean, Hayley, and Donna were chatting away in the middle of the room, laughing and talking like only best friends can.  Chris was sitting on the teacher’s desk with Dallas, heads together.  Chris would shoot Brogan the occasional glance, and when he turned away she would look at him.  The poor, clueless couple, bless their souls.  Breton was leaning against the whiteboard in the front of the room, watching his friends talk, but he didn’t join in any of the conversations.  Thankfully, Peter wasn’t there.