Five days left until tryouts. Just a word up.
I checked my watch as I walked back to my dorm. Nine-ten. I had a good solid fifty minutes before my Aunt Hannah would force me to go to sleep. She insists on at least eight hours of sleep, even though she gets an average of four.
And I felt bad for that.
One day, I'll make it up to her. Pay her back those fourteen years she raised me.
One day.
Just one day.
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I don't really talk much about my classes. After all, they are pretty boring. And if I were to talk about them, it would double the size of this story and give you a side story as a filler that's pretty useless to your daily life.
So I'm not going to start.
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Lunch was me by myself. Keith was with Amber somewhere and Katherine was probably somewhere with her other friends.
So I was alone once again.
Don't feel bad. It could be worse. I could have a gun in my backpack. A loaded one. Or a knife. A sharp one. Or even some rope. Heavy duty rope.
And you would know what would happen after that.
But the world was passing me by. As I stared into the world in front of men, everything else that had a life in this world to get to was doing it. While I, on the other hand, was rotting my life away and making ramen companies rich.
In case you're wondering, I don't really have any hobbies. I can't tell you what I do in my spare time because I can't describe what I do in my spare time.
I guess I can try though.
Alright, imagine you are in an empty room. You are on a carpeted floor. No windows or such. The walls are a dull and boring gr(a/e)y. You are staring at a bare ceiling that's a shade darker of gr(a/e)y. But as you stare at the ceiling, pictures of different events play for about ten seconds. Some are about you, but most are about others. One more thing, they're all tragic. There are no happy events. Always some sort of violence or tragedy.
That's basically what I do forty percent of the time.
And that's just when I'm awake. Imagine the "dreams" I have.
No, wait, never mind. DON'T imagine them.
You'd probably. break into a million pieces like I'm doing right now.
So as I am sitting at the base of the clock eating ramen, something strange happened.
"Hello, sir. Could you please fill out this survey for us?" the man asked. A woman was behind him. I couldn't see her very well, though.
"Sure, um..." I checked his nametag, "Is it Nico?"
"Yes, Nico. Behind me is my friend, Emelia." he stated.
"Hi, James." she said.
"Didn't think I'd see you again in such a short time." I answered.
"It's a small world, after all." she said.
"You know each other?" Nico asked.
"Yes. He helped me put up posters for the Berkeley's Got Talent Show." she replied.
"That's me," I said, "Gotta pen?"
"Yeah, here's one." Emelia said, reaching into her pocket.
"Thanks," I said. I looked at the survey. It was on a stiff clipboard so I could fill it out right then and there.
"You guys gonna wait or something?" I asked. Nico and Emelia were hovering around me as I wrote my answers.
"Yeah, we'll be under the clock. Call one of us when you're done." Emelia said. She went under the clock tower as Nico followed her. I stayed in the sunlit spot in front of the clock, even if I could go under to escape the heat. I started to readthe questions to myself.
"Are you willing to help ones in need?" I asked. I checked the box yes.
"I don't mean someone who needs five cents for their groceries. Still the same answer?" I ckecked the box no.
"What gender are you?" I checked the box male. I was tempted to go with other, but I didn't.
"Write in the space below what you would do if you were the opposite gender for one day." Easy, I thought, I wrote I would try on clothes all day.
"Are you happy with your life, on a scale of one to ten: one being bad, ten being great." I thought for a moment. Then, the perfect answer: negative eleven.
"Thank you for answering our questions. Please return this survey to the Berks of Being a Wallflower Club?!" I cried. The name was pretty witty, though.
"Alright, why did you guys give me thi..." I started, walking under the clock tower. Nico and Emelia were nowhere to be found. Their backpacks and a note was on the ground. I picked up the note and read it furiously.
"Dear James, leave the survey in one of our backpacks with your full name on it. Emelia and I had some business to attend to. Thanks for taking our "survey" Not Very Sorry, Vice President of the Berks of Being a Wallflower Club, Nico Gonzalez." I read to myself. I couldn't believe it. They thought I was that desperate?!
They were probably right.
YOU ARE READING
Maybe It'll Never Happen
Teen FictionJames Ignis has the worst luck in the world. His parents died when he was only four years old and he's been living with his single aunt who has to take 3 jobs to maintain his exsistence. He has been depressed his whole life. He has barely, if any, f...