Jesus, today was rough. I had to go through my mother because I was late to class today. She was yelling at me that school is important, blah blah blah, you’ll get failing grades if you continue being late. Stuff like that.
Sorry, I forgot to introduce myself. I’m Max. That’s short for Maximillian, but I go by Max ‘cause I don’t want to sound like a nerd. People were rude to me about it in kindergarten. I guess it was my mother’s idea but I like to keep things - like my name - as my own idea. I don’t even know why.
In school, we were doing a test in astronomy, which is why my mother got so god damn worked up about it. I was 7 minutes late approximately, and tests are usually taken 15 minutes after class starts in my school if there’s a test scheduled that day. I tried to explain that to her, but she didn’t want to hear it. Heck, I usually leave for school thirty minutes early to avoid being late.
There was something that held me up, and it wasn’t really that pleasant, either. It started out when there were one of my bullies that just so happened to be going to school at the same time that I was. And of course, being a bully, he picked on me the moment that he saw me.
“Hey, Maximillian! How’s you and your fat mom going?” He said with a rude snort.
“You aren’t one to talk, lardo.” I retorted. “Besides, your mom would have to be fat to make someone as chunky as you.”
He responded by flustering and promptly slapping me across the face. I must’ve gotten him good.
“Hey,” I said, rubbing my cheek where he slapped me. “If you can’t take what you dish out, try another hobby.”
He almost slapped me again when a teacher saw what we were doing. (We were about 500 feet from the school.)
“He slapped me!” I said, pointing to the bully, blaming him.
“Violence is not tolerated on school grounds, Ken.” The teacher scolded. “Report to I.S.S., now.”
“But he-” Ken tried to accuse me.
Ken sulked inside, obviously feeling bad for himself. I watched him, feeling slightly accomplished. Then I looked up at the polluted sky. The world was different ever since World War III. Many people were put in poverty. But luckily, my family was one of the few protected by the government. We didn’t have much money, but the government made sure we could have a home. Suddenly, I heard the tardy bell ring.
“Oh, crap,” I said.
I did do well on my test. Very well, in fact. I got a freaking perfect score. My mom didn’t care about that, though. She was so stupidly fixated that I was late, that she didn’t realize that I got a 100% until I showed her the grade on my tablet. Her mood was instantly better.
That’s my mom.
So since I got a hundred on my test, I passed the astronomy class. And since this was my last school year, I’m qualified to take part in Pilot Class. And it isn’t just any pilot. It’s an Intergalactic Space Pilot. My friends and I like to call ‘em InterG’s. It makes it a lot easier to pronounce.
I told my mother about that, and she flipped. She didn’t realize it was the last day of the year. “Time flies, I just didn’t realize.” She claimed.
Not even five minutes ago, my mom was steamed at me. I’ve dealt with that for eighteen years.
The next day, I woke up just in time to go right over to the IntergG class, but after I eat breakfast and get dressed, of course. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, right?
I toasted myself a little bread, and put some butter on it. Since it was such a simple breakfast, I chose the healthiest bread we had. I probably wouldn’t be eating much for a while.
After I finished off my last bite of toast, I put on my shoes, and then I ran directly outside and mounted my bike. I went as fast as I possibly could to get over to the building where you’re supposed to be trained as a pilot. As I reached the building, I docked my bike on the bike rack and walked inside.
It was a beautiful building. People obviously took care of this building, to make it more appealing to the eye. The floor was made of pure, polished, andesite tiles. The walls had strips of polished marble on them to serve as decoration. The front desk was made of oak and had a top layer of granite on it. A clerk sat behind the desk typing away on her computer. She was wearing white clothes and had blonde hair. She was also wearing black-rimmed glasses.
Then, she noticed I was in the room. “May I help you?” She asked, lowering her glasses slightly. She was definitely nearsighted.
“Yeah,” I say. “I’m here for the Intergalactic Space Pilot class. I’m not exactly sure where to go.”
“Sir, have you enrolled already?” The clerk said.
“Would you like to register now?”
“Alright. Please wait one moment while I bring up the registration page.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I say, now tapping my foot on the floor, feeling rather stupid for completely forgetting you had to register to even be in this class. In any class, for that matter.
“Alright, sir. The registration page is up. Name, please.” She said. I started to notice a monotone voice somewhere in what she was speaking. How long has she been doing this job?
“Uhh, Maximillian Orion Russel.”
“Sir, how do you spell your first name?
“Middle name O-R-I-O-N?”
“Spell your last name, please.”
“Alright. How old are you, sir?”
“I am eighteen.”
“I assume you just graduated from school.”
“Alright. This class doesn’t start for another month. Can you wait that long?”
I completely forgot I had a break in the first place.
“Uhh, yea. Thanks, ma’am.”
“No problem. One second sir, I need to print your information, and your room number for when class does start.” There’s a little human emotion right there, emphasis. Thank god she’s not another one of those robots.
I wait for another minute or so, waiting for the clerk to upload the files to the printer near the corner of the granite counter. Then I hear a whirring sound, then the classic whoosh whoosh printing sound.
When the paper finishes printing, the clerk extracts it from the printer’s internal cavity (where the papers are printed, of course) and hands it to me. Walking out of the building, I read the paper.
So apparently I go to my class in exactly thirty-two days, and the class takes place in room 1135. Holy crap, I had no clue that this building was so tall.
I fold the paper into an eighth of its size and put it in my pocket. I mounted my bike and rode home feeling even more stupid for forgetting you even had a break.
Arriving home, I walk inside and run into my room. I slap the paper, now unfolding itself, onto my desk and flop on my bed.
I am such a freaking idiot.
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