The Perfect Monday

April 28, 2009
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High school is so many things, I can’t begin to describe them. Life as a teenager is special too, it’s just as hard to describe. There are aspects, however, that someone might learn to understand in their time as a teen, I’m still going through that process. One thing in particular I’m having trouble with is relationships.

For example, I’m both happy and kinda depressed when I see couples walking through the school halls. I’m glad that my friends are finding out what it is to love, I think that’s just great. However, I’m also sad that I have not been given the same chance. I mean, people will tell me I’m better off without it, but I’d rather learn that myself, ya know what I’m talking about?

Well, here’s something that’s happened to me recently that might help you understand my thoughts and such, and why I’m having issues finding out.


“Hey Marc, it’s time to get up,” I groaned and rolled over as my cell’s alarm screamed support for my dad’s command-statement. I heard him chuckle as he left my room.

Pulling myself out of bed, I put my pants on, walked up stairs, ate breakfast, took a shower, got dressed, and went to school. A typical Monday morning. When I arrived at the “Institution of Florescent Lighting”-better known as high school-I walked through the front doors and down the halls to my locker.

I finished putting my stuff away with about thirty minutes to spare until the first bell rang and slumped to the floor, back against my locker. I jumped a little when a cheerful voice called out.

“Morning Marc! How are you?”

I look up to seem Sam-or Samantha if the name is going to confuse you-and my stomach did a back-flip. Her bright smile and blue-grey eyes shone from behind her chestnut bangs. I controlled my surprise and nerves-or tried to-and smiled back.

“I’m ok, what’s got you so up and giddy, eh?”

“I’m not sure,” she laughed, “Guess I’m just a morning person.”


“That makes one of us,” I shivered back-my locker was next to an emergency exit and it was like negative 10 degrees outside, or at least felt like it. I pulled my fleece jacket closer around me.


“So, how was your weekend?” I asked her. She started talking, but I really didn’t pay attention. I got lost in her voice and her eyes, both were very beautiful. I suddenly realized she was asking me a question.


“Marc, are you okay?”


“Yea, I’m fine, what was the question again?” She gave me a suspicious look but her face broke into a smile and she laughed again.


“What about you?”


“What about me?”


“How was your weekend?!” she laughed again as I realized how stupid my question was.


“Not bad, the usual really,” a slight grin twitched across my face. If you haven’t figure it out yet-imagine me giving you an unbelieving and slightly sarcastic look-I like Sam. I like her very much, actually. Here’s my thing though, she’s one of like, three, that I could like. Now, let me explain before you go calling me shallow or chauvinistic. My emotions and feelings are so mixed up I couldn’t begin to explain it.


It’s even more confusing because of how much I like Sam and the others, and I worry what one might think if they feel like they’re just “another name on a list”. So, hopefully, you can understand why I’m hesitant to ask Sam out.


We sat and talked until the bell rang, then we went to our separate classes. My first is creative writing, so here I am telling you my story and why I’m such a confused and emotionally wrecked teenager.



The buzzer went off and Mrs. Hastings told us to put our pencils down. I picked up what I had just written and examined it. It was true enough and I felt rather proud of it, it had been the first piece I had really written from my own perspective and about my own feelings. It had felt good to get it out.


“Alright, who wants to share what they’ve written?” Mrs. Hastings asked us. Everyone was silent, so she looked to me, “Marc, will you share with us please?”


My heart stopped. I didn’t want anyone to read that, it was supposed to be for my eyes only. I had to think fast. So, I went with the first thing that came to mind.


“Eh, this really isn’t something that I want to share yet. Sorry Mrs. Hastings.” Simple, I know, but it worked didn’t it? She sighed sadly and called on my best friend Justin. He read one of his funny stories that involved a hot rod, a girl, and some random animal attacking them. As always, he got his laughs as soon as he “jumped out of the car and realized he wasn’t wearing pants”.


The bell rang and Justin and I walked to our lockers-which are within two lockers of each other.


“So, I saw you and Sam talkin’ again today,” he said grinning.


“And? We always talk,” I tired to sound casual but he had me before I started.


“Drop the act Marc, I know you like her,” he laughed as I tried to stammer a defense. I just gave up and laughed helplessly.


“Alright, what’s you’re point?”


“Just ask her man, the worst you’ll get is a no.”


That’s exactly what I’m afraid of, a heartbreak. That’s something I’d rather not find out about.


My silence was only allowed to last for so long, before we split for our classes-he had math and I had my art class-he pulled me to the side.


“Just relax Marc, you have next block with her right? Paint her a picture or something.”


“You make it sound so effing easy, don’t you?”


“Maybe you’re just making it harder than it is,” he patted me on the back and turned to go down the stair as the warning bell went off right above us.


I took maybe ten steps and entered the art room, rubbing my now ringing ear.


“Something wrong?” asked Sam as I sat down.


“Bells, I hate our school’s bells.”


“No arguments there,” she agreed as they drowned all though for ten seconds.


Mr. Terry stood up and called us to attention, “You’ll be working on your final projects all block today, get to work and don’t stop until it’s time to clean up. Oh, and please try to keep the noise down somewhat.”


Sam and I got our projects from the in-class locker we shared and got to work, we were silent the whole time, working intently. The inside of my head however, was not quiet. Thoughts and ideas bounced from one side to another as the clock ticked. I didn’t even think about my project much, my brain was subconsciously controlling my colored pencils. When Mr. Terry said it was time to clean up, Sam glanced at my work so far.


“Wow Marc! That’s amazing!” I finally really looked at what I had done. It shocked me. All of my thoughts seemed to have painted themselves on my paper. There wasn’t anything really definite about it, but it was hardly a blur of color. I suppose it looks kinda like burning-bush deal in a blizzard.


“Thanks,” I said, turning to look at hers, “yours is better, I think.” Hers shocked me as much as my own. It was a bright orange flower on what looked like a pond, it looked so realistic I could touch it.


“You think so?” she compared our pieces, “I’d say I like yours the most, so I guess that means they’re both okay.” She laughed, I joined in.


Next block Justin sat next to me as we listened to the sub we had rambling on about one thing or another, I wasn’t really paying attention.


“Did you ask her?” he muttered.


“Nah, but she liked the piece I was working on,” I replied in the same quiet tone.


“And you didn’t ask her?!” he was stricken with incredulity, “What the hell is wrong with you Marc? That was a near PERFECT timing!”


“You two in back!” the sub’s voice was much sharper when she was angry, “Quiet. Pay attention and take notes!”


So we took notes. Only they were from each other. We passed the paper whenever the sub wasn’t looking.


What do you mean you didn’t think about it?!


I mean what I said Justin, lol, it didn’t cross my mind.


Boy, we’re taking you to the doc after school if you haven’t asked her by then.


Well what do you suggest Mr. Lady’s man?


Why thank you, and try just plain asking her.


What kind of plan is that?!?!


Not everything has to be a special ops mission Marc.


When the bell rang we parted again-this time he was heading for gym, and I was off to French, another class with Sam-and he gave me a look that said all to clearly his threat on our note was serious.


“Your instructions today are on the board. Straight to dialog. No English. Entire day in conversation. Starting now.”


Thanks Ms. Jennings, thanks a bunch, how the hell am I suppose to ask her now?


“Bonjour Marc, comment est ta jour aller?”


How’s you’re day going, my mind registered.


“Eh, Comme-ci comme-ca.”


So so, well it was the truth. We talked about anything and everything we could think of. When the last ten minutes of class came around, we had run out of anything to talk about. We sat in silence for a minute before Ms. Jennings cracked down on us.


“Marc, Sam, vous avez huit minutes aller. Continue parler s’il vous plait.”


Keep talking? I said many choice things in my head to Ms. Jennings before I was struck with inspiration. I could ask Sam out in French.


“Umm, Sam?”


“Oui?”


“Voulez-vous sortir avec moi quelque fois?” Shock spread across my face and I turned red, I couldn’t believe I had just asked THE question. She looked at me curiously.


“Hmm, Es-tu m'demander sors?” She knew, she probably always knew. She just asked if I was serious to be sure, I could see it in her eyes.


“Oui... Veux-tu?” Time froze as she considered me again. Years seemed to pass as we just looked at each other. The bell rang and we were startled out of our moment. She gathered her things then bent close to my ear.


“D’accord. Chez moi, demain, apres l’ecole,” she smiled, “I’ll see you later Marc.” She turned and walked out of the room. I wanted to yell with happiness. I picked up my stuff and half-ran to my locker where Justin was waiting. He didn’t even bother asking; he just laughed at how red I was and how hyper I had suddenly become..


Together, Justin and I walked out to his car and we drove to my house. Just hanging out, laughing, and having fun, the perfect way to end the perfect Monday.





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