9/17/13-"The incomparable Gilbert Stewart."

It was dark and rainy when I got up, late again. I could hear the school bus on the street above mine while I walked to the bus stop.

School was, when my bus pulled into the ramp and deposited us onto the wet concrete half an hour before fifth period began, eerily empty. The glass-walled theatre lobby, which usually is occupied by at least one person at any given time, was dark and utterly vacant. The Quad, on account of the wet weather, was abandoned as well, and few people were wandering around. I suppose a lot of my fellow early birds were sheltering in the warmth of the commons, but I generally avoid that place in the morning, because it always smells like whatever they provide for breakfast, which never smells remotely like food.

I waited in the covered area beside the bus ramp until E.'s bus arrived, at which point I walked with her to the teamroom.

E. had run before school, in the stormy gloom. She described it as one of the most terrifying, and most depressing, things she had ever done. At one point--she told S. and me--she had heard footsteps approaching, and, unable to see particularly far in front of her, had panicked and shone her light right into the eyes of a little old lady walking a dog.

And the rain poured down.

Mr. H. remarked upon it in class. "Fall draws near," he intoned. "We are now approaching the equinox, on what, the twenty-first? Can anyone tell me what 'equinox' translates to?"

Equal night.

"Yes, equal night. So when your parents ask you, 'what did you learn in school today?', you can reply, 'in Politics and Lit, we discussed the significance of the autumnal equinox,' and they'll leave you alone."

...In Politics and Lit today, our teacher taught us how to evade our parents. A useful skill...

He then handed out a fat packet for the unit, and the unit schedule, which, in case we misplace it, "is also on the red bulletin board, ladies and gentlemen, right beside the smiling, gesturing portrait of George Washington, America's first president. He's rendered in oils by the incomparable Gilbert Stewart."

We were soon instructed to break into groups "with one or two of your besties, or even with someone you don't know. Friendships have resulted from H.'s discussion circles, ladies and gentlemen. Love has arisen from H.'s discussion circles! I don't want to hear about any children that have come into being as a result of H.'s discussion circles, but..."

I gathered my papers and looked over my shoulder to find N. pointing at me severely, clearly an order to join him. So I did. Another boy joined us, and then we asked each other if anyone knew what we were supposed to be doing.

This, it turned out, was unnecessary, as Mr. H. had not yet given us our instructions.

Later, in Advisory, we had a Senior Class Meeting in the Theatre auditorium. This consisted of listening to a panel of alumni, most of whom had graduated last year, tell us nothing we didn't already know, while E. fidgeted and grumbled beside me throughout most of the presentation, because she had hoped to use today's Advisory period to get help on her Calculus homework, not to listen to who was going to college where and their advice on how to get there.

We had a prerecs test in Calc. It went pretty well, I think. I finished with plenty of time, so I was able to go back and check my answers. I'm pretty sure I got one of the absolute value transformations wrong, though. I reflected both of them over the y-axis, and I think one of them was supposed to go over the x. Ah well, nothing to be done about that now.

During lunch, E., S., A., P. and I tried to hunt down a table, but they were all claimed. We ended up eating in the art room.

Downstairs, in the home ec department, it smelled wonderful. They must have been making something delectable in Foods, a few doors down from Fiber Arts. The aroma wafted up the not-so-secret theatre building staircase as I descended for seventh period. Also ascending the not-so-secret staircase was a pair of techies. That fact has absolutely no bearing on anything, I thought I'd just throw it in.

Mrs. D. was back. She'd had surgery on her throat, which had left her with a horizontal scar at the base of her neck. She took us into the sewing room and gave us a mini tour, showing us where the various supplies were kept. At one end of the room there was a large wooden cabinet.

"This has a history," she informed us. "It must be around seventy years old."

She then told us some of the stories that centered around this cabinet, from the time, during her first year of teaching, she had found a little freshman boy locked inside it upon investigating the peculiar noises emanating from its depths; to the time when she had found a group of seniors carefully unpacking its contents, and upon asking what they were doing, was told that they were looking for Narnia.

After school, we had a combined choir rehearsal for the gig on Saturday. When that was over, I hung out with E. and P. and A. in the teamroom for a spell, struggling with Calc homework, before I had to leave to catch my bus. As I left, I realized I had forgotten my lunchbox somewhere.

It was still raining.

When I got home, I couldn't find my key, so I had to let myself in with the spare, taking it carefully from its arachnid-infested hiding place.

The End

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