Seven days of repetition will do anything to a man. It would be hell to practice, but anyone would find it hard to imagine doing the exact same thing days in a row. The same lessons, the same greetings, sentences, habits, mistakes, all down to the same people barging into my shoulders as we collide down the corridor.
It's no exaggeration to assume I've been a bit of a delinquent these past years, so I don't have many friends - or social skills, for that matter - but I do recognise some faces. Faces with names. These days I feel like a zombie moving from unconscious-moving-state to somewhat-aware-state. Where am I this time? I'm at school.
Shit.
Day one, being the start of the experience, had six periods. Maths and English for the first two, break, History and Art for the second two, lunch, and finally R.E. - also known as Religious Education - and Science to contradict the school's perfect reputation of open-mindedness.
Naturally, I don't pay attention. People like me don't have the potential to be proper members of society like these guys. People like me are built to be dreamers, spectators, and side characters. Extras, even. I don't mind being a side character, it takes the weight of expectation off my shoulders. I'll never be on a grand journey, and I'll never be the leader of a gang. I'll sit comfortably in the back, a faceless goon, ready to take orders.
The day ends, and I immediately press homeward. I don't exactly have a reputation, so friends aren't that many for me. My only associate who sits next to me in three periods, was off sick today.
His name, if it adds humanity to him, is William. However, everyone calls him Billy. His father is also called Billy, full name William. Due to this complicated family tradition, we call Billy, Billson, to push the knife in deeper that he's a Bill-son. We came up with it the day his father picked him up from class early. His father was a military man; high stature, strong presence, and looked like he could kill a man in a single punch. He was fond of me - I don't cause trouble. I stay out of the limelight. His favourite things in the world are peace and quiet. Hates music, children, and disturbances, but somehow has 3 sons. Eldest is a rock star, middle is a founding member of the neo-mafia gang that resides on the opposite side of town to him, and the youngest one sits next to me, and practices alchemic circles in his down-time.
Of course, since he isn't at school, there's no reason to waste my time. I press on past the basketball court, train station, park, strip of shops, until I reach sweet, safe home. Unlock the door with little resilience, kick shoes off, go to the fridge, pick up a can and immediately turn on the TV. It's the year 2000 so there isn't much for anyone to watch on demand, everything is analog, and we can't afford cable, so five channels it is.
Fortunately for me, Uncle Deus, my dad's youngest brother, gave me a cheat code for life.
It's not like a normal cheat code. It's a sequence of buttons you press on the remote so you can watch whatever you want. One day, I tried it, and somehow, it worked, and I now can put on Dragonball, Digimon, Pokémon. Currently the possibilities are limited to my favourites, but I have no reason to complain.
What's that? You want to know how it works?
Trade secret.
Honestly I have no idea how it works.
By 7pm, mum comes home, too exhausted to make dinner, so we order a pizza. Dad has cash ready because he knew that's what he wanted anyway, and all in less than 2 pages, the pizza arrives. Dad chose the toppings, so naturally, we have a meat. As much meat as possible for the two men and two women in the family.
Two women? My little sister is also here. Marianne, also going by Mary, Riri, Anne, but I call her Ni-No.
Her least favourite nickname.
She's a year and a half younger than me, and managed to steal all the charisma I was destined to have, and left me with absolutely none of it… or at least 5%. She commands her own military squad of elementary all-girls school kids which she calls "Girl Scoutz".
Foreign concept, I know.
In England, Girl Scouts aren't very popular, but still have some presence in day-to-day life. You do see them every now-and-then, but not often enough to rely on them or expect anything of them. However, the Scoutz (the Z is extremely necessary) patrol the town when school is finished and help the townsfolk who need extra hands or a younger person to assist with a task. They do everyday jobs so those who can't don't have to strain themselves, which is amazing granted the people they used to be before the Scoutz.
Before this, being three years ago, all 90 members - three school classes worth of girls - were delinquents. All girls, one being one of their brothers in a wig and a skirt, formed an elementary school of tiny bikers that would bully, cause chaos, and destroy everything in their way. Maryanne challenged their leader to a game of wits and completely outsmarted them, making her their leader effective-immediately. It was an incredible thing to see at the time.
As you could probably tell from my monologuing, we don't talk much to each other. There's never much dialogue at the dinner table. Mum runs out of steam after work, and just wants to be quiet. Since she works as a district attorney, her work revolves around talking, and after 20 years of existing, I've learned to stop asking questions that don't want to be answered. Dad is quiet by nature. When he wants to talk, he talks one-on-one, to avoid eavesdropping and so he can get his point across directly. This method has worked for him for over 30 years. It's how him and mum met. He pulled her aside and told her how she felt. He didn't want to be berated by his cohorts and friends. Soon after they finished university, they were wed, with mum's parents blessings, of course.
We all finish dinner around the same time. Ni-Ni usually finishes first so she can get a mission report from her Scoutz. Mum chimes up first before she starts washing dishes.
"Annie, I saw some of your friends in their new uniforms! You worked so hard on those girls, it's such a delight to see them doing so much good for the people here. I'm so proud of you." Mother dearest smiles in a way that I could never deserve.
"You give me too much credit, mum, they wouldn't be half the girls they are without your lessons." she makes a fist with her right hand and punches her left palm as if to imply mum's a tough parent. Contrarily, mum's got the softest spot for her kids, and never tries to raise her voice even when we deserve it. She's kind and tough, but never aggressive. Dad, on the other hand, thinks he's a comedian. I'll spare you the theatrics, because he's either at work doing overtime or at home doing the comedy gig. Dad doesn't enjoy going out. He told us when we were younger that his dream was to have two beautiful kids so he can spend the rest of his days taking care of them, because he hates going out with people. His wife is the only woman - no, human - whose company he enjoys. I think it's because she laughs at his jokes.
We all sit down to watch TV; a large box with a screen that we all have to squint to watch clearly. Due to this familial issue, we don't watch TV for very long. Probably around 20 minutes and then disperse. Sis and I will usually read a book. Today, sis picked up a manga. Dragonball, to be exact. I knew it was mine, but I have no issue with her borrowing my books since she's more careful than I am. Dad picks up the Guiness Book of World Records, and only flicks through so he can talk loudly about how he could've done any of these but never knew it could be acknowledged. I believe him, because he hasn't given me a reason not to.
However I do doubt he can juggle flaming knives for 45 minutes.
After designated reading time, we bathe one after another and then go to bed. Since it's a school night, I hit the hay hard and hope tomorrow is better.
Boy, was I naive.