Sollux's POV
I knew it was going to be a bad day when I was able to open my locker on the first try. I've had the same shitty locker for the past four years, and I've always had to put the correct combination in twice before it opens. I've noticed that any other number signifies the day's looming god-awfulness. I try to fix it by closing my locker and trying it again, and even though it still opens on the first combination entry, I quit while I'm ahead. I put all of the homework I did last night into my locker, then proceed to take everything I'd need for the first two periods.
I see my best friend Karkat in most of my classes this year. I have double-block math class first period, and only Karkat and I, along with perhaps three other people are in that class. The class was made when they realized that a lot of kids, especially those who had good enough grades to take both Algebra and Geometry in middle school, didn't take Freshman math when they were supposed to since it was put into a block math with Geometry. Then I go to AP Latin, then eat out of a study hall, which doesn't even really count as a class, actually. Then after noon I take Drawing and Painting and lastly British Literature.
Our school had major budget cuts about two years back, and now only has six periods in the day instead of seven, so even though I only needed an art class to graduate, I still didn't have enough space for the double-block sciences course and double-block math I wanted. Block days are gone, too, which makes lesson plans the teachers have pretty inefficient, since all of their projects were created around having twice as long in class for one day a week. All the better for Karkat and I.
Karkat's been pretty stand-offish lately, actually. More than nomal, even. He's usually a pretty angry guy, but the only time I ever get worried that I've really done something wrong are the times like these past couple of weeks when hasn't yelled at me at all. I think he might still be mad at me because this summer, by the time I convinced him that he didn't have to follow me to study hall and made him sign up for the computer science class he wanted to take, it was already too crowded.
Well, actually, I guess it's kind of selfish to just assume it's me he's having problems with. He usually has pretty dark bags under his eyes since, as his dad likes to point out, his family has pretty strong Greek blood in them. Lately, though, I've noticed his eyes are pretty blood-shot, and I'm worried that he's slipping back into his habit of not sleeping. It wouldn't worry me as much if I didn't know why he does it. He worries about things more than all of his other friends realize. Karkat worries about everything from how he acted towards someone that morning to things as serious as they are implausible. I know he worries about his dad suddenly dying or losing his job, about being homeless or getting really sick all of a sudden. He garners those thoughts with more attention than he should.
You get through the day being thoroughly ignored by the only person you enjoy talking to all day, and without being bullied by Eridan and his ensemble of hipsters. The thought of Karkat at his house worrying and raging to the point of not even being able to function would be funny if it weren't so depressingly pathetic. So with worry of your own, you go home and, after counting things in your apartment in pairs of two for a while to calm yourself down, you decide to give Karkat a call.
After a shower.
