Michael Kuznezov

It's a Monday...and everyone knows how Mondays go. They go bad. But Michael's Monday was extra bad. The weekend had been too short, filled with two house parties, illegally bought alcohol and a few too many cigarettes. And then the sound of doom is piercing thru his bedroom. BEEP. BEEEP. BEEEEEEEEP. SLAMMM. Michael shuts the alarm off with his fist and groans. "бллляяяя..." he runs a hand thru his dark brown hair, and cracks open a blood shot eye at the digital clock by the nightstand. 7:00 am. he swings his leg over the bed and sits there. Head throbbing. Feeling like shit. Still need to go to school. He claps into his hands and stands up walking to the closet. "this...and that..." he mumbles and throws on some jeans and a dark shirt. he packs his backpack, moves to the bathroom. Michael glances at the mirror, and blinks "I really do look like shit...Jesus." he mutters at himself, starting to make himself ready. Shaving, washing his face, brushing teeth, styling his hair and putting on some cologne. by the time he arrives downstairs, his parents are gone to work. Only a brown paperback is sitting on the table. 'Don't forget your lunch, Pupsik.' Written over it in his mothers loopy hand write. he huffs softly, putting the paper back into his backpack and makes his way out of the house. He checks his phone. 7:35 am. Enough time to walk to school, just then a notification from Miles. Miles: okey listen, I'm not coming today. That party took like everything that I held dear and more. Miles: be nice without me, yeah? Michael sees the notification. 'Great. Just fucking great. I fucking hate Mondays.' he thinks and starts to approach His Highschool, Beach Bay High. It's loud. Too loud for his head. Girls giggling while looking at him, need burying their head extra deep into their books, teachers looking just as dead as him. He arrives at his first class. Physics. He settles into his seat, in the back, table littered in doodles and sketches. The class is a circus, too loud, too many teenagers giving him wary stairs and inching away. Michael grins. The teacher walks in. Mrs. Warren, overworked, round glasses, tired. "class..." she says once, no one reacts "CLASS! Sit down! The lesson is starting." she shrieks and pops a mountain of paper into the table. The class settles quickly. Mrs. Warren sighs and runs a hand thru her short hair. "okey everyone, we will be making a group project." a groan is rippling thru the people. "and I will choose your partner" an even louder groan is going thru the class. Someone even shouting 'come onnn'. Mrs. Warren does at care. she pulls out a paper and starts reading out names. "Jake and Chantal you will be doing the theory of relativity..." she says and adjusts her glasses, moving on "Tyler and Mike long-distance power lines, magnetic fields and voltage." the two of them are gasping, Mrs. Warren shuts them with a glare. she squints her eyes at the next name. "Ehh...Michael and Tú, you two will be doing Nuclear Fission. Have fun you two..." she mumbles and moves on, droning out the next names. Michael meanwhile is thinking 'Tú...Tú...who was that again...ehh?' he quickly looks around the class and sees them approaching him. "Hey..." he says and grins, leaning back in his chair. "So we are partners now, huh?" his grin widens even more.