2. Dizzy Bat.

Everything was sore. The beckoning sun was a screech. It all came back to him. The pictures in his mind, the pain of his being. It wasn't a dream. Why did Monday exist?

"Get up! You'll be late for school."

"That's right, school." Adam responded in a growl.

"Will you get up!" his mother pulled his covers away. "I can't afford to be late."

"Ah!" he jumped to sit, covering himself. "Mom! I could've been naked." he said, surprised that he wasn't. "And what are you talking about?"

"Your teacher, Mrs. Camp. She called me and asked me to come with you. Apparently, you should've made me aware of a parent teacher conference I have with her today."

"Oh shit! I totally forgot." he face palmed.

"Language."

"Sorry."

"Mmmh," she hummed in lack of satisfaction. "You have ten minutes to be in the car."

"No breakfast?" he asked smiling.

"And next time you wanna come home after midnight looking and smelling like that, don't."

Her voice was cold and metallic, lingering as she left the room. That's when he looked down to see that he was in the same state he was in the day before. That crash was not a dream. His shirt was musty with an acid smell of salt. His shorts were similarly so and his right arm had a nasty bruise. He must've looked like he came from a rager

An incessant throb drummed away in his head. He sent his hands to his lip. There was a cut. Adam decided he would not regail her with the story of how he almost died by attack of a rogue sunken ship. Best to leave well enough alone. If his mother found out, that would be the end of boats as he knew them. A quick shower/ brushing of teeth/ wound dressing was in order. Being on the football team had taught him how to create time. By the time he had jumped into his red nineteen ninety nine Ferrari, he both looked and felt like trash.

"You know I hate this." his mother said, trying to squeeze into the low sports car.

"I do." he chuckled.

"Ah! Mrs. Davis." the joyful for no reason woman rose and gave a dramatic bow. Adam rolled his eyes at the spectacle.

"Good morning." his mother shook the feeble hand presented to her and sat down.

"I'm glad you came."

Yellow teeth peered through as she glared unblinkingly through her oversized glasses. Mrs. Camp was definitely an oddity. Whoever in hell decided she was fit to teach young minds, definitely deserved a promotion. She had joined the school about a month before yet no one could imagine Bell Valley Prep without her. Adam realized that the woman had been eyeballing them for an uncomfortable amount of time.

"So why am I here?" his mother, Jenna, asked.

"Time, Mrs. Davis. It is all these children don't have." Mrs. Camp said. "Think about it, they have the looks, the ideas, the energy. Time however, is not on their side."

Camp stopped and began to open her flask. She struggled to open it so Adam raised an eyebrow of help. She shook her head and continued to wrestle with the thing.

"Sure you don't need help?" he half asked, leaning back to enjoy the show.

"No." she stood up from her desk, flask firmly between her legs.

She yanked on it like a facial reconstructive surgery would jump out at her. One can only dream. The flask gave way, sending the woman stumbling back into her filing cabinet. From his periphery, he saw his mother face him so he just shrugged. Camp went on to pour her drink into a cup and sip on it like a vampire on heat.

"You want some? It's herbal." Camp cooed to Jenna.

"Can you just tell me why I'm here?" the impatient woman posed.

Adam already knew why she was there. His grades had been going into the toilet and worst of all was English literature. He just didn't have time to read books. Even audio books. He relegated that he was simply a lazy bastard and left it at that. It didn't help that his literature teacher was the oh so lovely and wise Mrs. Camp. He leaned back and waited for the news to be broken. From a table piece on his side, he could see the reflection of his copper black face at an odd angle. His lip was busted worse than he had thought. The angle made him look worse than camp so he turned away.

Before them, the dizzy bat took one final disgustingly loud swig before facing him. He pushed his eyebrows, attempting to not throw up his nonexistent breakfast.

"Mrs. Davis. Your son has been failing miserably in English Literature." she kept her cross eyes on him.

"I sure wonder why." he barely whispered but a look from his mother and he was upright. He sent an eye roll of half apology.

"What could the problem be!" he knew his mother's question was fake.

"He simply refuses to read the material. His grades are way below average and he is no longer eligible for sports." Camp said carefully.

"What?" they both exclaimed. He looked at his mother in confusion. That wasn't the reaction he expected.

"Look ma'am, football is very important to my son."

"I understand that..."

"Is there nothing you can do?"

"I already talked with coach Webber and offered Adam an ultimatum." Camp defended, palms out.

"And I already said no." Adam huffed.

"What ultimatum?"

"There is a book club made up of people in his grade. As a teaching professional, I can assure you that dumb kids really benefit from more gifted kids…"

"Dumb kids? I'm not dumb..." before the final note had left his tool, his mother had sent a hot slap across the back of his head.

"If he joins this book club, he'll be able to play?"

Camp didn't respond with words. A simple shrug sealed his fate. He really didn't want to be in a book club. He could get his grades up all on his own. He wondered what kind of people were in the book club anyway. You spend all day buried in books,carry some for homework and still meet up to pow wow on even more books? Hell to the no!

Mother and son left the room feeling like they had just gone on a trip. She motioned her head to ask if Camp was kookoo and he shrugged.

"No one really knows." he said, slinging his bag over one shoulder and walking away.

"Wait." she said seriously behind him. "Your father asked about you."

The pre-rush hallway swallowed them up. There was no escaping the conversation. He turned back to face her. Neither took a step forward. They both knew it was touchy territory. Both respected the other. After all, nothing can prepare you for such trying times. The one who was dying may have been somewhere else but deep down, they were dying too.

"He's getting worse and all he wants now is to see you. Maybe for the last time…"

"I'll see you at home." he cut her short and walked away. He couldn't see him like that, he had to protect the image. He had to protect himself.