Usual disclaimers, blah blah blah, all the usual crap…

"RING"

What in the hell is that?

"RING"

That is not right. It's Saturday.

"RING"

I also don't own a phone, yet one is ringing quite insistently near my ear. I stick my head out of the blankets and glance around groggily, trying to find the source of my rude awakening. After blinking several times, I finally notice the phone that's discreetly tucked next to my nightstand. Since it's stopped ringing, however, I no longer care. With a relieved sigh I pull the covers back over my head and snuggle into my pillow.

"RING"

What the—

"Hello?"

"Ah, Mr. Portman, you're awake. Good."

"Whoz is?" I groan softly and try to wake up more.

"This is Mrs. Haver, your guidance counselor."

My guidance counselor? Who needs guidance on a Saturday morning, particularly when I don't have lacrosse until the game tonight?

"What's go'n on?"

I can almost hear her frown at my sleep slurred words but she continues anyway.

"It is time, Mr. Portman, for you to head down to the office and select your weekend activities."

"Huh?"

"Here at Eden Hall we like to encourage our students to use all of their time productively. Today is your last day to inform us of your choice for weekend activities." She pauses and her tone becomes more disapproving. "We sent out a memo."

I yawn again and roll my eyes. "I have lacrosse every Saturday."

"I know Mr. Portman, but that leaves your Sundays wide open."



This is unbelievable. I want to sleep on Sundays, like normal people.

"Uhhhgh…"

"I'll see you in fifteen minutes, Mr. Portman."

And she hangs up, leaving me no chance to plead for my sanity.

After laying in bed for much longer than I should, I throw off my covers and give myself a scrutinizing look in the mirror; baggy black shorts, faded black Nirvana t-shirt, short hair so I never have to brush it, and a bruise starting to show on my cheekbone.

Well… since I look great there's no need to change a thing.

I grab a pair of shoes and slip them on before grabbing my dorm key and heading out the door. Glancing at my watch I break into a jog, since I have no doubt that I will pay dearly if I exceed the fifteen minutes. The doors to the student counseling center swing open as I approach and Mrs. Haver looks up expectantly.

"Good, Mr. Portman." She shuffles a huge stack of papers and ignores my yawn. "I have some options here that I thought you might want to look over." I sit dutifully at the desk and she hands me a huge stack of papers, the top of which says 'Song and Dance Club!!'

I sigh and glance it over for a millisecond then set it aside, ready to move on to the next. She grabs the paper and looks it over, frowning.

"What's wrong with this one?" I glare as she continues. "I saw your performance at that lacrosse game. Ahem!" She clears her throat violently, and I do not like the way she's eyeing me. "I think a dance club would be a perfect outlet for some energy."

I give her a serious look. "I don't do anything that has more than one exclamation point in the name."

She humphs and starts shuffling through the fliers. "Well…"

"Do you have a meditation club?"

"No."

I sit back in my chair and cross my arms. "I'm interested in learning to center myself."

"That's nice Mr. Portman, but you already seem very centered around yourself, so I don't think Eden Hall should encourage that."

I stare at her, a newfound respect for the old lady running through me. I am not used to little old red-headed teachers making comments like that, let alone at my expense.

"Now, if you would just find some club that you can sign up for and then never show up, my job here will be done."



I give her a hesitant smile, unsure if it's too late to be nice and am glad when she returns it. This time I'm serious about it, looking through the fliers in the hopes that there's at least one group that I'll be semi interested in, or one that I'll be able to sleep through without complaint.

Thirty-five minutes later, we've exhausted two binders' worth of flyers and Mrs. Haver is on her third mug of coffee.

"Fencing club?"

"Coach will kill me if I get stabbed. Besides, I heard one leg gets bigger than the other from standing so weird. I don't want to be lopsided."

She rolls her eyes and shoves another bright piece of paper in my face.

"Equestrian Club?"

I wince at the thought of bouncing around in a saddle and she gives me an understanding look.

"Right… How about Pilates?"

"Do you have anything that involves cars?"

"No."

"What about

"How about this?"

She looks up, her eyes focusing on the piece of paper in my hand.

"You want to join the Chess Club?"

"Sure. It's easy, I won't get stabbed and I'll be the best looking guy in the room."

Her expression is torn between disapproval at my statement and relief that I've finally picked something.

"You know what? That's fine. It starts tomorrow. Do you know where the AV room is?"

I shake my head. "I'm sure I can find it."

"Nonsense; I'll have my aide show you where it is. Mr. Reed!"

And then he comes walking out from her office, a sullen look on his face and I gape. She apparently has some sort of power over anti social, hulking jocks, since we all seem to obey her every command. He doesn't even glance at me, just raises his eyebrows at the guidance counselor.

"Yeah, Haves?"

"Fulton, what have I told you about calling me Haves… My last name is Hav-ER." She glares, though there's little anger behind it. "Get it right."

He gives her a small smile. "Whatever you say, Haves."

She ignores this, turning toward me and motioning with her hand. "Dean here needs to know where the Chess Club meets. Be a dear and show him."

He jerks his head in what I assume is an agreeing manner and walks out of the small office, leaving me to rush after him.

He looks up and raises his eyebrows. "So, Dean, Chess Club, huh?"

I nod. "Yup."

'"So what do you do for fun around here?"

He gives me a scrutinizing look and motions toward a nearby group of students. "What do they do for fun around here, or what do I do?"

I glance at the group of football players then look back at Fulton.

"I want to know what you do."

AN: Unfortunately, I promise nothing with this story. I found this on my computer and liked it enough to finish it, but inspiration has been low lately. Sorry…