Friday Morning, 9:00 am, McKay High

Ted

I drop down into my chair/desk with a heavy thud, and try to concentrate on going back to sleep.

Thank god for coffee. I can remember when I couldn't even stand the smell of the stuff. I wouldn't even go in the room when my mom was drinking a cup of my dad's super-strong morning joe. Now I don't know how I'd function without a cup in the morning. Chalk up another one on my list of addictions.

I sometimes wish Lindsay weren't so goddamn perky all of the time. It's all I can do to drag my butt into class every morning, while she's already done three impossible things, just before breakfast.

Speaking of oversleepers anonymous, where the hell is Gil? I mean, he was pretty wasted last night, but his mom is usually a real fascist about getting him up. What time is it anyway?

The clock is running backwards! Ah so. It's OK Gil, I already got your absence slip.

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Lindsay

So I'm a morning person. Shoot me. Ted seems to think that it is some sort of disorder to want to get up in the morning. It's not as if I enjoy getting up at six, particularly, or that I spend three hours doing my hair and makeup or something psychotic like that. That's just when I wake up. Ready or not. So now here I am, sitting in history, bored out of my skull. I've been awake for three goddamned hours already, and there's Ted, sitting across from me, completely out of it, not even aware of how bored he should be. I know he probably woke up at five of eight, rolled out of bed and into his clothes, and somehow still managed to get here on time.

What is up with him? Something spooked him, and now he suddenly has to go to the bathroom. I wave a little wave at him as he leaves. He gives me a half grin.

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Who's where

Leisl

Fritz

Gil