[charlieglasgow]

Sighing, he walked inside and to the living room. “Uh, Steve?” His stepdad looked up from his morning paper. Clearing his throat, he gave Ryan an inquisitive look that was somehow supposed to mean “yes?” Ryan continued. “My car died, and I’m late for school. Can you jump mine for me?”

Steve sighed, shrugged, and nodded, getting up and making sure his robe was tightly fastened. Wordlessly, he grabbed his keys. Ryan followed him outside as he got in his car and moved it more closely to Ryan’s car. Ryan popped the hood on both of them and quickly, Steve jumped the car for him. He gestured to Ryan’s car, suggesting he try to start it. Ryan did so, successfully jumping it.

Without much more than a nod, Steve undid the cables and moved his car so that Ryan could get out of the driveway. “Okay…” Ryan shook his head as he looked at his watch. 6.20. Ten minutes to get to school before the early class started, and it usually took him fifteen minutes to commute. He quickly began driving, however, hoping not to be even later than he already was. The whole way there he sped five miles over, thankful that the police seemed to not be around yet.

By the time he got to school, pulling in the expansive parking lot, his watch read 6:30, and he was officially late. He left decency aside as he locked his car and ran into the building and up a couple of floors to his classroom, the hallway clocks reading 6:32. He flung open the heavy door to the classroom and, tripping on his feet as he walked inside, made an entrance. Everyone in the early class turned to look at him, including the teacher, who just continued teaching. His face burning with embarrassment, Ryan closed the door and quickly and as silently as possible shuffled into the seat that he always took, that was left empty for him, and opened his messenger bag, and taking out his Calculus binder, silently cursed as he discovered his take-home calculus test was not inside of it, where it should be, and where he would always leave his homework.

He sighed and looked up at his teacher, who was still blabbering on about Calculus. His heart started beating uncontrollably fast as he contemplated what to do. This wasn’t just a run of the mill, anyone-can-forget-and-still-do-fine assignment. This was the midterm, one of two major tests, in his AP calculus class. The one where he had the highest grade of all the other students. And he knew he did perfect on that test.

But it meant nothing; the test was due that day. Iindeed, the students were all now retrieving the white packets of paper, filled with pencil writing, all surprisingly neat. He quickly glanced around the classroom. Everyone seemed to have the test but him. He couldn’t run back home; that would take all of the class time and the teacher would be pissed off and disappointed. He closed his binder and leaned forward, trying to swallow.

There seemed to be no moisture in his mouth with which to swallow. He couldn’t breathe correctly, either. He tried breathing out as he put his elbows on his desk and covered his face with his hands, looking down to make it seem like he was studying, and trying to hold it together. He reckoned that he could dismiss any thought of any part of this day going better, since so many things had already gone wrong. He also attempted to get his mind off of the calculus test. He couldn’t afford to just not do this test.

Nobody could. This wasn’t a teacher prone to forgiving stupid absentmindedness by the students. This was college preparation and there wasn’t much room for error. The 6:30 start time alone sent the message that this class wasn’t for underachievers. Soon enough, time came to hand in the test. Ryan just took the tests from behind him and passed them forward, trying to breathe correctly.

He had never done anything like this. He never forgot assignments. Ever. Especially not extra important assignments for advanced, honors college prep classes. Finally, and it felt like forever had passed before this, the bell rang, but the teacher wasn’t done talking. And he wasn’t even done teaching. Please, no, Ryan silently begged.

He started tapping his fingers on the desk to try and relax, and pass time. He gave a sharp exhale of breath as the teacher finally let up, and excused the class. He rushed out, getting ahead of the others as, with the standing in the rows and talking, it could take a while to get out of the classroom. He cursed to himself under his breath, walking to his next class. The feeling in his chest never went away, and he couldn’t get his surely plummeting calculus grade out of his head. He smiled and waved at people the whole day, but didn’t talk to anyone.

His mood turned worse, and so did the panic, when he realized he forgot his English paper at home as well as his calculus test. He just sunk lower in his chair, every class time, because it felt like it was just going to get worse. He was grateful, at least, that his last class got out on time. He sighed in relief as he slid back into the driver seat of his car. The comfort of the familiar seat reassured him for a bit. Maybe things would start going normally again.

He continued breathing normally, finally, as he drove to his counselor’s office, for their weekly appointment. He got to the office straight on time. 3:15. The receptionist told him he would be a minute, which made him a bit nervous. Sandy, his therapist, was usually on time. What should change this time?

He was always on time. He nodded to the receptionist and tried not to worry as he sat down on one of the couches in the waiting room. He kept a close eye on his watch as the minutes ticked on by. His mom was paying Sandy, and not to cut down on their appointment time. This wasn’t acceptable. He tapped the floor with his feet, getting a little impatient.

At 3:20, Sandy calmly strolled into the room, from the outside door. Ryan just stared at him. He didn’t look disturbed in the least that he had missed the first five minutes of his appointment. Not even, like, busy or something. Just didn’t want to come. Now Ryan was pissed off. It isn’t nice to get pissed off. But he was pissed off now. Unloading on his counselor was one of the only fine times in his week. Sometimes they were hard times in the week. But he always looked forward to them.