Monday

March 20th, 1984

Monday was the worst day of the week. Any teenager in their right mind could attest to that fact. And for Andrew Clark, this started out like any other Monday. His mom knocking on the door to wake him up, and his father screaming up the stairs for him. He had no alarm, because his father was enough to raise the dead. With a groan, Andrew rubbed his eyes, and hauled himself out of bed looking for a clean shirt in the pile on his floor. His mothers light footsteps were fading down the staircase. He was not looking forward to school. Or more accurately, his ride to school. He didn't have a license yet, so his father had to drive him.

Andrew had won his wrestling meet the week before, and spent every minute since regretting it. He wasn't the only kid on the team, but he was the only one that had to wake up at six the next morning for a five mile run. His father was starting to ride him about scholarships, about staying on track and keeping his head in the ring. Andrew was ready to tear his hair out. Stuffing his unfinished homework into his backpack Andrew charged down the stairs into the kitchen. The scent of maple syrup was the strongest pull he knew.

His mother already had a mile high stack of waffles waiting for him. His mom looked so tired. Andrew wanted to tell her to sleep in a little tomorrow, he could get something to eat at school, but his father barged in. His mom instantly rifled through the cupboard for a coffee cup, and before her husband could say a word, had a cup ready for him. Scraping the rest of his waffle through the puddle of sticky syrup on his plate, Andrew shoved it into his mouth and left. His father bungled after him, the weight he gained since high school preventing him from easily passing through the tiny halls. Andrew was all muscle, but could easily slip around the tables and chairs. Shouting back a good-bye to his mother, he jumped into his father's truck.

"Did you finish all your homework?" Father asked him. Andrew nodded stiffly. "Good, can't have ya blowing that scholarship. Remember to talk to that teacher of yours and tell her that you can't see a tutor. You're gonna be too busy with practice."

The rest of the ride continued in the same manner. Dad shooting his mouth off, and Andrew nodding whenever there was a pause. When they pulled up to the school, Andrew shot out of the car before it had fully stopped and speed to the school. He bumped into a girl wearing black, and muttered a, "Sorry," under his breath. His friends were already there, most drove themselves to school. They instantly expanded their circle to include him, and started talking about senseless things until school started. The day dragged by until he hit gym. It was the only time of the day that he was able to lose himself in something senseless and give into his most animalistic senses. He was able to take out all of his aggression on classmates that couldn't protect themselves. All he had to do was protect his knee.

After the teacher called time, Andrew snapped himself out of his trance, and spotted several underclassmen limping to the changing room. Feeling the dull roar of his adrenaline pressing at his ears, he managed to amble in next to his friends. He started changing, slipping a roll of tape onto his wrist so he could tape his knee up before heading to class. He spotted a kid from his math class, the kid that was supposed to tutor him, getting changed. Andrew stared at him, he was misshaped, hairy, the kid that was going to be a dork his whole life. The adrenaline began to pound against his skull again, and his father's stories about his glory days wrapped around him like a noose. Before he could stop himself, Andrew had the dork pinned to the floor, and started to whale on him. The tape around his wrist got stuck to the scrawny teen, and Andrew taped his buns together. His friends were laughing behind him, but Andrew could barely hear them. He couldn't hear the laughter die down, or his friends arms as they pulled him off, he could only feel the hand that slapped him back into high school.

He found himself staring at his gym teacher, and was tugged down to the principal's office. Principal Vernon was him name. Nobody really knew him, because he only knew the kids that were trouble makers.

"Well Mr. Clark," the older man drawled. "I can't say that it's a pleasant surprise to have you in here." Andrew couldn't hear him. All he could think of was Larry. How that dork would have to go home and tell his parents, his father, what happened at school today. His eyes began to sting, but he didn't know why. Andrew could barely hear Mr. Vernon's next words. "Saturday detention. Be here at 7. Get to class."

Andrew could feel tears welling up in his eyes as he left the office but wiped them away before anyone could see. He passed a red head named Claire in the hall, and pulled on a strong face so she wouldn't gossip to her friends. His white sneakers tore down the hall to Physics class.