Saying it was an average day would be a lie--No day was average for Scott West. He awoke from a glorious slumber into a beautiful morning by the shrill screaming of his mother that his father didn't know.

Doesn't know what? Ah, doesn't matter, he thought. Rolling out of bed was fun because he could pretend to be an acrobat. Scott once wanted to be an acrobat. He spent six months practicing before deciding that his true call in life was a fireman. That was seven months ago.

"Good morning, parental units," he called out. His mother was too busy griping to hear and his father too busy going to work. The griping always died off into sad sighs and the daily sounds of a coffee maker. Soon he'd smell it to. At the moment all he could smell was a serious need for hot cologne and a nice, crisp tee. He did that as effectively as possible, grinning and humming to himself all the while.

I am sexy, he tried to convince himself. It never worked but he was great at acting. Oh shit, gotta clean up my room or Mom won't let me go to Caster's!

That was done quickly too. Scott liked doing things quickly. Bouncing around like a puppy, he threw all his dirty clothes into the basket, zipped back up his backpack, sang a little happy song with his green comb, and made his bed. Ten minutes flat, or so said his tiny electric alarm that went off every single morning.

"Mom?" Scott asked, finally walking out into the living room. She looked up at him, blue eyes ringed by the dark purple under them. "Can I stay after to hang with Caster? I'll be back in time to help with dinner and I don't gotta work tonight."

She sighed and threw up her hands, "I guess." Passive aggressive again? Come on, Mom...

"Coffee?"

"I already made a cup but you can get one," she said. Sure enough, she took a big gulp of hers. Peppermints filled the air and she inhaled them eagerly. Peppermints made her better. Healthier. Happier. She remembered more of happy times. "Your grades, Scott."

"Hm?"

"A B in Bio-Chem? You're smarter than that," she said, sighing deeply. "You need to focus on your grades instead of on your hair. I'll put a knot in your tail if you keep this up."

"Mom, everything else is an A. It'll be an A by nine weeks, I promise," he assured her. With a grin he kissed her cheek and gave her a half hug. "Casters?"

"Whatever, I won't be anywhere."

He nodded, grabbing his backpack as he slipped into his shoes before heading out the door. Behind him his mother shouted, "Did you brush your teeth?"

"Of course!"

In all actuality, all he did was grab a mouth wash wipe from his bag and suck on it. Gosh, Mom. Can't slip by you. A snicker, then he was outside and into the brisk air of Kentucky spring. The weatherman had said low sixties but it felt more like fifty-six, which he figured it probably was. His tee was cold, but he wouldn't trade the look for a jacket. Even an attractive jacket.

"You ain't right in the noggin," Caster said, walking up. "It's too cold to be out without your jacket."

"Hun, I'm fine."

Caster flashed his teeth and threw his arm around his buddy with glee. "What about today, any plans yet or we just pullin' up?"

"To school and the park. Less I pick up that hottie," Scott said with a grin. "Today has to be the day. I can feel it. Chillin' up my arms like Mount Everest!"

"Yeah boy! Hey, did you get that homework for Rad done?"

Mr. Radley, the one teacher in school who everyone--even the students--wanted to sleep with. His pale skin, his grey eyes, that jawline...whew, if Scott had been into guys he would have drooled just thinking about Radley. Every day he came in looking like he dropped off a movie set. His brightly colored tees often held hilarious slogans from poetry or books. First hour was the best hour of the day just because that was the hour Scott had Radley.

"Ah, shoot," Scott said, sighing. "Hell, it's just three hundred fifty, I can get that done before the bell rings first hour."

Caster grinned like a madman and slapped Scott on the back. The two instantly began running and raced to school with another word. They just fit together like that. Though they hadn't always been friends, since they got into middle school the two had been inseparable. Scott was--in his opinion--the hot one who was sociable and lovable. Caster was the strong wingman, the athletic one. Athletic in basketball, at least. In running Scott was the real winner, as he won every morning, and he had two second place medals from Track before they had discontinued it.

"I'm gonna run and grab my gear," Caster shouted, angling towards the gym.

Nodding, Scott continued on until he reached the front doors, only pausing them to take a solid breath of air. He ran his fingers through his perfect hair and walked inside, calling hello to his fellow students and looking for the day of sunshine he knew would be waiting on him.

Like clockwork Isabel was there, giggling and happy as always. "Hey! How'd you sleep?"

"Great, you?"

"Good." She sighed and fell into step beside him as he went to his locker. "I had a dream." After an inquiring look she went on, pushing her hair behind her ears with a shy smile. "I was a bird. Like, a giant eagle? And I was totally flying like boss. And then I wasn't flying. You know? I was falling. But I was smiling? And I landed in water, and was a fish. But not a fish? Because I still had wings."

Isabel continued like that. Every day they had their talks. Scott loved it. She was happy and loving and caring and would talk and talk and talk until her sister came to pull her away.

Of course, Briar always came before she ever got to the good part. Giving him an annoyed look, Briar straight up ignored her sister's pleas and drug her away. "Stay away from my sister, dweeb," Briar said.

"Dweeb?" Scott laughed to himself. Usually Briar had something smart and snarky to say. Dweeb? What the heck? That was cute. God, she's the dweeb for even knowing what that means!

"Did I miss her?" Caster asked. Scott jumped and slammed his head into the locker, his heart pounding. "Shit man, did I scare you?"

He laughed. "Hell yeah! And yeah, she's gone."

"What was today's news?"

"Dreams. Something about a bird," Scott said, shrugging. He leaned against his locker and thumbed through his notebook until he found a blank page--whether a stroke of luck or magic he couldn't say. Yesterday that notebook had been filled up to the whiskers with scribbles about Trig. "Okay, shoot me. What was the prompt about?"

Scratching at the back of his head, Caster thought for a moment. Then he nodded to himself and said, "If you had three minutes left on Earth how would you use them? Would you do something good, bad, undefinable? What is it like to die?" His voice got all mysterious and deep in a mimic of Radley's.

"Got it." Violently, Scott began to scratch down his answer. Despite what most people thought about him, his handwriting was incredibly neat and in perfect cursive. He just write fast, oftentimes too fast, and was known for being a tad more repetitive than he should have been. God knows Radley's gonna yell at me if I say he more then nine times again. Doesn't he understand how hard it is to write? Ugh.

The two of them walked to the cafeteria and sat down, Scott never ceasing to write as he went. His fingers were cramping but it almost felt good. One hundred words down and there was no issue. An old man was sitting in a room, alone, rocking in a chair. He coughed. He considered his death. Of course, that couldn't be enough. Scott's mind flew in whirlwinds as he brainstormed and wrote all of it down. What good had he done? What bad? Perhaps he isn't so old after all. Maybe he just feels old. He can't remember when he got so old. Another cough, longer. Dragging at his lungs. It's eating him, it's--Three hundred words passed. Then another twenty, another ten, and the guy still wasn't dead. Scott could have written a thousand words over it but knew he didn't have the time or the want to do so. Instead, he ended it with a simple line.

"And as he drew in a last, shuddering breath, the man fell back against the chair and ended it all. No more thoughts. Nothing," Scott read aloud. He applauded himself for getting exactly three hundred and fifty words. Radley was going to hate it, as he always did when Scott did the bare minimum, but it wasn't bad at all.

Caster's clapping broke the noise of the cafeteria and he just grinned. "Every dang time. Rad's gonna be mad," he said, "but hey, he did say three fifty. You got three fifty. So, after school we hanging? Practice might run late today. Hope that's all right."

"It's fine," Scott told him. Sleep hung at the corners of his mind, prompting a yawn. "I have work tomorrow, but after it's done we can hang out at my place and play Fallout."

"You finally got it?!"

"Yeah! Promise, I won't break the seal without you."

They both grinned and high fived. The bell rang as if to say, "Get to class!" and as it spurt out three pathetic noises the two did. Radley's class wasn't too far from the cafeteria so they took their time. Being late was an art that both had seemed to master. Today is gonna be a great day, he thought. Another lazy smile placed itself on his face. What could go wrong?

*

Anything I could do to improve this? I have to turn it in by tonight, so I have all day (in theory) to fix it up!