"Nate, get up."

"Leave me alone."

"You're gonna be late for school."

"I'm not going. We got back at four AM. I want to sleep."

"You miss another day of school, you repeat senior year." Sully rips the covers off me. I'm still wearing the clothes I wore last night. I couldn't muster the energy to change.

After rolling out of bed (literally), I drag myself to the bathroom to relieve my bladder. I wash my hands then my face. I squeeze some hair gel into my hand, but quickly realize I squeezed toothpaste instead. I rewash my hands and brush my teeth, forgetting the toothpaste.

Sully hands me a piece of toast and some orange juice. "Enjoy it, kid. I don't have any cash to give you for lunch, so you won't eat until you get home from school. What did you do to your hair?" He tries to fix it, but I squirm away and do it myself. I guess I forget to actually apply the gel. "Oh, and by the way," Sully starts, "we're gonna be gone the weekend of the twelfth. Chicago's getting some new artifacts from Egypt, so they're selling the ones they have on display now."

"So we're stealing, not buying, right?"

"Yup, stealing, then selling for more."

"Mm. Wait!" I gasp. "The twelfth? That's prom weekend."

"You can go next year."

"I'm a senior. There is no 'next year'!"

"Well… sorry."

"What am I gonna tell Sophia?"

"I'm sure you'll think of something. Have a good day, kid."

"I'll try."

I speed to school and my tires screech as I pull into my parking spot. Of course my locker doesn't want to cooperate with me today, so it takes me a few tries to get it open. When I finally get my books, I sprint down the hall to first period senior math hoping nobody yells at me for running. The bell rings as I step across the threshold. I breathe a sigh of relief and head to my seat. "Mr. Drake?" Crap.

"Yes, Mr. Andrews?"

"You're tardy. Get a slip from the office."

"But I was-"

"Not in the room when the bell rang."

"Yes, I was!"

"All of you?"

"Why were you watching that closely?"

"Mr. Drake-"

"Yeah, yeah, I know. Tardy slip."

After a tedious trip to the front office all the way on the other side of the school, I drop into my seat at the back of the classroom. Just two minutes later, I'm already battling back the draw of sleep. Sully and I spend the long weekend in, around, and under a small town in England exploring some ancient burial grounds and catacombs. Our flight home landed at about two in the morning and I stayed up for the entire two hour car trip home. Looking back, that wasn't a very good idea.

I rest my head on my left hand, pencil in my right. I'm trying to pay attention, but it's like Mr. Andrews is trying to put me to sleep. Fractions, blah, blah, blah, x=, blah, blah, blah, Pythagoras, blah, blah, blah…

My head snaps up as a ruler slaps my desk. Mr. Andrews looks down from the other end of the ruler and asks, "What'll it be, Mr. Drake?"

"Um…" I try to sneak a glance at the board, but Mr. Andrews shifts himself in front of it so I can't see the problem. "…four?" I try.

"Infinity divided by infinity is… four?"

When did we get to infinity? How much did I miss? "It... could be," I say defensively.

"Yes, technically it could, but there's no way to know for sure, so in my class, infinity over infinity is always infinity. Got it?"

"Got it."

"Good. See me after class, Mr. Drake."

I groan internally and drop my face into my hands. Ten agonizing minutes later, the bell rings and I head towards Mr. Andrews' desk. "You wanted to see me?" I ask, stifling a yawn.

"Yes, this is for you, Mr. Drake." He hands me a yellow slip of paper.

"Detention?" I sigh. I figured this would happen, but it still sucks.

"I'll see you here at three. Don't be late."

"I won't."

I'm jiggling my jammed locker handle when I'm bombarded by Sophia at my locker. "Hey, Nate. How's it goin'?"

"Not good. Really just… not good."

"Aw, I'm sorry. Will this make it better?" She rises up on her tiptoes and kisses me on the cheek.

"Definitely." I pull her close and kiss her on the lips.

We pull away and she giggles, "Oh, Nate. So… do you have something to ask me?"

Damn it… "No."

"You sure there's not something you need to ask me to?"

"I'm sure."

Sophia huffs and stamps her foot. "Why won't you ask me to prom? Do I embarrass you? Am I not good enough for you?"

"No, no, no, that's not it at all. I'm going to be out of town that weekend."

"Why?"

"My uncle has work in Chicago."

"Then why do you have to go?"

"You know how protective he is. He doesn't like to leave me on my own."

"Ugh, I can't believe this! I'm dating the cutest guy at school and he can't take me to prom!" She starts marching towards her next class. I grab the rest of stuff quickly and run after her. "I mean, what did I do to deserve this?" she whines.

"Sophia, it's not your fault."

"I know! It's your fault. This is like the worst thing that's ever happened to me!"

"Well, you've had a better life than 99% of the world," I mutter, rolling my eyes.

"Don't undermine me, Nate! It's not my fault my parents aren't lazy like homeless people or poor like the entire country of Africa."

"Well, I happened to be homeless myself a few years ago and it has nothing to do with laziness!"

"You were homeless?" she squeaks, freezing in place. She wears a mask of horror. Maybe I should have thought that statement through a bit more. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I-I didn't think that was important."

"Oh god, my parents are gonna kill me."

"What? Why?"

"I've got to get to class. I'm just gonna…" She avoids my gaze and walks around me into the classroom behind me.

I begin to follow her, then frown at my own stupidity. This isn't my second period. I turn around and begin to meander to biology. I know I'm going to be late, so why rush? My hands shake as I try and concentrate on cutting open my frog, but my fine motor skills are severely impaired today. My lab partner eventually takes over for me and assigns me to recording observations, which is fine by me. All I can think about is Sophia. I knew we weren't getting married or anything, but I liked her company. Plus, she has a flat screen in her room and a pool in her backyard, so…

Next period is gym. Everyone whispers as I walk into the locker room. Only my friend Oliver talks to me. Sophia gives me a death glare the entire mile run. She must have told everyone. What a bitch.

I smile for once as I change out of my sweaty clothes. AP European History is next. It's always the best part of my day because it's the one interesting thing they teach at this stupid school Sully makes me go to. Oliver and I walk there together. He sits behind me since his name is Oliver Drallie. Once the bell rings, Mr. Foster starts collecting essays. Essays? Essays! "Mr. Drake?" Mr. Foster holds out his hand expectantly over my desk.

"I did it, I swear. I just left it at home."

He sighs. "We all had a long weekend too, Mr. Drake, and everyone else did their homework."

"But I did do it. I did it Thursday and Friday night and I was going to check it over before I printed it out, but I had a really late night last night and I totally forgot. Can I turn it in tomorrow?"

"You can for one letter grade less."

"But I did it. Please believe me, Mr. Foster. Today has been really crappy and I would make my day if you would believe me."

"I'm sorry. It's one letter grade down or a zero." He pats my shoulder and moves on to Oliver who hands in his 10 page paper. He tends to go overboard, but he's not an over achiever. He's just a little paranoid about doing his work right.

Oliver pokes my back, so I look over my shoulder. He mouths, "I believe you."

"Thanks," I whisper back. I don't really do "best friends", but Oliver is as closest thing I have to one.

The lesson today is about the last successful invasion of England, something I'm already an expert on. I take minimal notes while sketching in the margins of my notebook.

Lunch is torture. Smelling Oliver's tuna salad sandwich makes me seriously consider gnawing on my hand as a snack. He keeps offering me some of his lunch, but I refuse. Oliver works for his father's family run landscaping business. He needs the calories.

Oliver and I have orchestra together, too. He's first chair violin and I'm the pianist. Having learned the basics of music in the good ol' Saint Francis Boys Home, I took up the piano to fill up another period. I would have taken a language, but I'm already fluent in Spanish and Latin. I wanted to take them for an easy A, but Sully said no, stating something about getting something out of school and becoming more cultured. His pestering only got worse once it was revealed I've actually got some talent with those stupid black and white keys. He even went so far as to tell Mrs. Thomas, the band director, how good I am and got her to pester me about orchestra, too. I eventually gave in, making Sully a very happy camper.

Fourth period orchestra is the best band in the school. We're really good. We almost sound professional. As pianist, I usually get background or harmony parts, which suits me just fine. They're easy rhythm parts, mostly just repetitive chords and that's what I'm good at. But today being today, we exclusively practice Gershwin's "Rhapsody in Blue" which features me as a soloist for most of the tune. It's the most complicated piece I've ever read. I practice on the piano in the lobby of the apartment building, but I can't practice whenever I want because everyone in the building can hear me. Running the same eight measures over and over again can be annoying. I didn't have time to practice this weekend and it shows. Mrs. Thomas has to stop the entire band multiple times because I mess up or get lost. By the end of the class, the trumpets, the trombones, and most of the flutes groan at every wrong key I hit. It doesn't help that I have to dedicate some of my concentration on keeping my eyes open.

I apologize to Mrs. Thomas before leaving the band room. Oliver heads off to metals class, while I go to study hall. I feel relieved because there's no way I can screw up study hall. And yet I find a way to do so. I sit on chair and a leg gives out sending me to the floor. The nurse informs me that they'll send a bill to Sully's apartment for the chair as she pulls splinters out of my hands.

Finally, English 12. I realize I forgot my copy of Pride and Prejudice on the plane back from England as soon as I sit in my seat. I bullshit my in-class essay for about half an hour, then turn it in. I would have failed it with the book next to me anyway. I hate literary analysis. Plus, the cuts from the splinters become fire when I grip a pencil.

Sophia and her posse are standing around my locker sucking down Starbucks after the final bell. They must have ditched class. "Nate, I've talked with my friends and I think we have to break up," she says, nose in the air. She sniffles faintly.

"Why, what did I do?" I ask.

"It's not you. It's my parents. They say can't date anyone of lower stature. They've always hated you. I should have seen the signs."

"The signs that I used to be homeless? Well, I'm not anymore, if that's what you're worried about."

"Look, I'm sorry, Nate. I wish it could be different."

"But I didn't lie to you!"

Her mascara starts to run. "I'm trying to do this gently. My heart is broken because of you and you accuse me of falsely accusing you of lying? You are such an asshole!"

"I'm not-"

"Shut up, Nate!" She tosses her double-vanilla-mocha-frappe-whatever in my face and all down the front of my shirt. "We're THROUGH!"

All three of them flip their hair and runway-walk away from me. I wipe my face off and call, "Sophia!"

"You owe me a frappuccino, dickhead!" Without looking back, she flips me the bird.

I shove everything in my locker and run to the bathroom. I wash everything I well as I can, but I can't get the smell of coffee out of my shirt. I walk into detention at 3:15. "Didn't I ask you be here at three?" Mr. Andrews asks, pointing to a desk in the front row.

"Sorry, sir. I was busy breaking up with my girlfriend."

"You trying to be smart with me?"

"No, not at all."

"Regardless, you'll have to stay an extra thirty minutes. You have to make up two minutes for every minute you're late."

"Great." I lean back in my seat to stretch my legs. An hour and half is a long time to sit doing nothing.

"And no naps, Mr. Drake," Mr. Andrews warns me.

I sit staring at the math problems left over from his last period. I still have no idea where the infinity comes from. I'm so stupid.

I tilt my head back and blow a lungful of cigar smoke towards the ceiling. What a wonderful, lazy day. After going to the store, I popped in one James Bond movie after another. The only thing missing is my little, smartass companion. He's good to have around on a job, but he's also good for just hanging out with. Thing is, I can't tell him I miss his company during the day. I would never hear the end of it.

I drag my eyes over to my watch face. 5:00. Shouldn't Nate be home by now?

As if on cue, I hear a car pull up out front. There's the sound of a door slamming and some cursing. I mute the movie to listen to him tromp up the stairs (we only live on the second floor), cursing all the while. He sticks his key in the lock, twisting and pushing at the same time. He must have started pushing too early, because I hear his head hit the still closed door. "Damn it!" he yells, finally pushing the door open.

I stifle a laugh while looking him over from the couch. His hair seems to have a mind of its own, his eyes have angry, dark circles under them, his hands are bandaged, and he's drenched in sweat. "Is it that hot out there?" I ask as he squeezes out some sweat out of his hair.

"No, the heater in my car got stuck on high all the way home."

"Why didn't you open a window?"

He curses himself again and mumbles, "I didn't think of that. I had other things on my mind."

"Bad day?"

Nate turns his fiery, blue eyes towards me and gives me a look that would stop a charging lion dead in its tracks.

"Okay, okay, no more questions," I concede, raising my hands in surrender before hefting a box onto my lap from the side table. "I felt bad about this morning with the whole prom fiasco, so I figured I'd get you a small consolation prize." I lift the top of the box revealing a dozen donuts of varying icings and fillings.

He blinks slowly, face softening slightly. Without saying a word, he drops his bag in the entryway and plops onto the couch next to me. I'm about to reach for the remote and restart the movie for Nate when, without warning, he throws his arms around my torso, holding me tight. "Thank you," he mumbles into my rib cage.

I hesitantly lay an arm over his sticky back, patting him gently. That's strange. All I did was get him donuts. The way he's acting, you'd think I had saved his life or something. "No problem, kid," I say a bit awkwardly. He releases his grasp and reaches for a donut, finally smiling. "You sure you're okay?" I ask, running a hand through his wet mop of hair.

He nods, happily munching away. "Now I am."

"Good." I reach for the remote and begin to rewind it. "Why do you smell like coffee?"

Nate groans and leans over to rest against me. "No more questions. Just let me enjoy this."