"Morning has broken, like the first morning."*

Simon's radio greeted him. He yawned. It was still dark outside, but that was the only disadvantage to getting up this early. At five in the morning, it may not be light, but there weren't any other people, either. These two precious hours were the only part of his day he could truly call his own.

"Blackbird has spoken, like the first bird."

Leaving the oldies station on, Simon opened his math book. So far, he actually kind of enjoyed Algebra II. Now that they could use calculators, math had gotten simpler instead of harder. In half an hour, he shut his book on the assignment. An A would be nice, even if it was just in 'normal' math, unlike Matt had been.

Simon grimaced at the thought. He couldn't get compared to Mary or Lucy (though he had to admit, that would probably be unfavorable as well) it was always Matt-this, and Matt-that. Matt who'd succeeded and wanted to be a doctor-Matt who'd taken such an interest in everyone else's lives. Maybe that was it-he just couldn't take the time to care about what his sibling's did. He had his own life, they had theirs. It would work out, eventually, or it wouldn't. He just couldn't bring himself to care.

Simon then didn't do his Chemistry. His teacher had already decided not to like him, and was too busy comparing him with Matt to see anything about Simon, so it didn't really matter whether he actually did the work or not. If he was lucky, then his teacher would "creatively" add a few numbers, and his parents would be satisfied with the grade he hadn't earned.

The last thing he had to do this morning was read 'Hard Times.' Ninth grade and 'Great Expectations' had kindled in him any great love of Dickens. (But he hadn't skipped school about it.) However, the second chapter quickly grabbed his attention. "Facts, facts, facts, without end, Amen." He turned the page. "Interesting. Dad would certainly disagree, but do I?"

The book fell onto his bed. "Well." He finally asked of himself again. "Do I?" So much of what he did was to play to other people. No one would believe that a "rebel" got up at five to do homework and listen to oldies. That was kind of the point-if people believed what he wanted them to believe, life was a lot easier.

Lonelier, perhaps, but much easier. After all, if people's expectations of you were low, it didn't matter if you didn't fulfill them. That, at least, was thing he'd learned from his family.

*The song is "Morning has Broken" by Cat Stevens.*