Chapter 2: The First Day of School

Crash returns home from therapy tired and hungry. Once he unlocks the door, the bicycle is propped against the wall in the foyer. A growling stomach leads him into the kitchen. While walking through the house, Crash notices the silence. Mama is nowhere in sight but her presence is found within a small note. As Crash reaches the refrigerator, he reads her letter:

'Sorry that I won't be home. There's a Tupperware container in the fridge with your favorite—chicken teriyaki! Enjoy the rest of your day sweetie. Love, Mama.'

Crash smiles and tosses the paper into the garbage. He opens the refrigerator door and scans for his meal. His target is sighted—a red Tupperware bowl filled with homemade teriyaki chicken. Once the dish is laid out on a plate, the cold contents are reheated in the microwave. Crash sits at the table with his meal.

While finishing his meal, Crash contemplates how to continue his day. 'I should get ready for tomorrow.' His mind relays with a newfound responsibility. Yet, once the food begins to digest, Crash's medication takes its toll. He manages to wash the dishes clean. He yawns as he walks into the living room with sluggish steps.

"A nap sounds good," Crash speaks to himself out loud.

He stretches his back then proceeds to curl up on the couch. 'Please be too tired to dream,' his thoughts plead. The nervous teen lays with his eyes open for several minutes. Soon his eyes flicker shut and Crash drifts into sleep. Several minutes become several hours. A quarter pass six a.m. greets the teenager with an abrupt alarm.

"You're still asleep dear?" Mama's exclamation blares. "Did you even take your medication last night?"

Crash awakens in a slight panic. He stumbles off of the sofa while entangled in a blanket. 'Where did this cover come from?' His confusion subsides as he realizes the simple answer. Mama had provided the blanket in the dark of the night. The teenager looks around to gather himself.

"Uh? Medicine…I think I forgot," Crash replies in a daze. "What time is it?"

"It's time to get ready for school," Mama replies with both hands on her hips. "Now, off you go."

Crash nods in understanding. His heartbeat races as rapidly as a hare in a chase. Unfortunately, being late gives him a bolt of anxiety. Once Crash brushes his teeth and washes his face, a new dilemma takes form. He stands in front of an open dresser with indecision. One hand grabs a black shirt with green stripes decorating long sleeves. Crash picks up another shirt decorated with a skull and cross bones on the front.

"Are you finished?" Mama's question catches him off guard.

"Um." Crash pauses to discern what's being asked. "I need help: skulls or stripes?"

"Hmmm." The other taps a finger to her chin. "Why not both?"

"Great idea!" the teenager beams.

Mama watches as her son continues to rummage through his clothes. She smiles as he pulls out the desired shirt—a black long sleeve with a sugar skull on the front and pink horizontal stripes on the arms. She walks downstairs to wait for him in the kitchen. Crash rushes into the bathroom to apply the finishing touches to his attire. He applies his favorite Black Licorice eyeliner and charcoal lipstick. Once satisfied, he heads towards the stairs. As he passes his room, the teenager's mind remembers something important. 'Backpack,' the word enters his mind. After a quick detour, Crash walks downstairs to grab breakfast.

"I know you're running late," Mama indicates while her son pokes through the cabinet. "But you need to eat. Especially, to remember your medication."

The frantic teenager nods in agreement. He gathers a bowl of honey nut cereal and a glass of water for the morning dose. 'Won't repeat the same mistake as last time.' His tongue recalls the nasty taste of pills and orange juice.

As he eats, the teenager cannot help but to regard Mama with suspicion. His guardian takes notice of the behavior and glances away. Crash increases his speed and finishes the light meal. While he walks to the front door, he pauses in confusion.

"Where's my bike?" he asks.

"In the garage," Mama replies as she pulls a set of keys from her purse. "I didn't change my schedule to 'not' drive you on your first day of school."

"You know how much I hate cars!" Crash throws his bag onto the floor in frustration.

"Honey, you're late." She adopts a stern tone. "Pick up your backpack and let's be on our way."

Crash admits defeat. He grabs his bag and storms outside. From behind, his guardian gives a heavy sigh and shakes her head.

"Teenagers," she scoffs while rolling her eyes. "It's fine, he's fine, and we're fine."

Once the car doors unlock, Crash takes a spot nervously in the back seat. 'It's the safest place for a…I think.' His thoughts trail off as he attempts to remain calm. Crash begins tapping his left foot.

"Are you excited?" Mama asks as she takes the wheel.

Her gaze peeks into the rearview mirror. She feels sad at the sight of her son's discomfort. 'He has to overcome his fears eventually,' she remarks internally.

"I…uh…" Crash stammers to reply as the car rolls out of the driveway. "Yeah, I guess I'm excited."

The teen eyes his fidgeting fingers. Had he not taken his medication, Crash's heart would have palpitated worse. Time passes him without notice. Before Crash realizes the roads twisting and turning, the vehicle stops.

"We're here, sweetie." Mama's voice breaks his internal focus.

The boy opens up the door and scampers out. He glances at the students darting towards the school building. There appears to be two clashing personalities: those who don't wish to be late versus those who could care less about punctuality. The nervous teenager tightens his grip on the backpack. His blue eyes cast a gaze towards the car.

"Good luck with your first day!" His guardian's voice sounds soothing.

Yet, despite her smile, Crash can see that even Mama is concerned.

"Thank you," he smiles back with a wave.

The car drives away. As the sound of an engine fades in the distance, an obnoxious laughter takes its place. Crash turns his head towards the source. A stocky teenager with short brown hair and acne stands tall. By his physical appearance, he must be older than Crash. While pausing in between remarks, the tall one scratches his scalp to remove extra dandruff.

"Mama?" he begins to taunt the other. "I thought for sure that was your dad!"

Crash stands still with frantic heartbeat. Once the bully begins spitting insults at his Mama, though, emotions change. Crash fights to control his personal discomfort. Should the matter only pertain to him, then the introverted teenager would simply walk away. Two blue eyes pierce the bully's gaze to the menace's confusion. Rather than speak, Crash pulls him arm back for a punch.

"Hey!" another teenage boy intervenes. "You don't want to do that!"

Crash turns to face the newcomer. He sees an older boy with dirty blonde hair beneath a red beanie and sharp green eyes. The bully's own face contorts with displeasure at the sight of him.

"What do you want Alex?" The aggressor takes a step backwards.

"Come on, Wallace." The teenager releases Crash's arm. "Aren't you getting too old to pick on kids? How many years are you held back now…two…three?"

"Shut up!" Wallace snaps. "I'll let you slide this time."

Crash watches the bully shuffle towards the school. He mutters more insults geared at the new student. Crash loses steam and regains a sense of anxiety. 'Why are people so hostile?' Before he can get lost in his mind, Crash feels a hand on the shoulder.

"Sorry 'bout that," the green-eyed boy smiles. "Welcome to Lotusville High. I'm Alex!"

"I'm…Crash," the other stammers. "Thank you for stopping me from doing something stupid."

"Yeah, you don't have to waste your time with him," Alex replies while pointing at the bully leaving. "Some people just want to pick on people who are different from them."

"That's true," Crash gives a weak smile. "We should probably head inside."

Alex nods in agreement, although the green-eyed teen could personally care less about school. The two stride along casually as other students scamper inside. A new question piques Crash's interest.

"What day is it?" he asks while walking up stone steps.

"Purple," the other answers.

"Crap," Crash stops by the door. "If that means what I think it means, then I'm not going to be…prepared."

He runs his fingers through the front pockets of his backpack. Once the schedule is in hand, the anxious teenager lowers his head.

"I have gym!" he exclaims. Crash sighs as he zips away the page. "I don't have gym clothes…"

"Wow," Alex whistles. "Seems like someone has to borrow the school's rached spare."

"Rached?" Crash raises a brow.

"The word is slang for 'gross,'" Alex explains. "Don’t worry, they 'should' be clean."

"This…stinks." Blue eyes race along the halls. "I don't even know where to go."

"Well, you're in luck," the bright teen smiles. "I have gym, too!"

Despite the bittersweet fortune, Crash returns the gesture. Rather than a half-hearted grin, he expresses an honest sense of relief. 'At least I won't have to be alone,' he observes. To have a new friend means a greater chance of surviving school. Further, the new change of events is just what the doctor ordered.