Well, it's Friday again. For the eighth time since everything changed. Back before February 10, 2011, I would dread the end of the school week. TWO WHOLE DAYS without the comfort of a desk attached to my chair, without the sweaty smell of my gym clothes in my locker, without the intellectual stimulation of chess club. I simply had nothing to do over the weekend: I had played through every video game I own countless times, I had memorized every movie on the shelf, and my comic book collection is already torn and frayed. And then...
she turned up on the scene.
I'll never forget where I was when I first saw her: standing by the BUS STOP. I was more excited than usual about taking my regular emergency exit row seat because I happened to know that there was a secret fire drill scheduled for that day. I was about to ruin the surprise for her, because I just had to tell someone... but then she opened her mouth and started to sing. One note of that sweet, beautiful, monotone voice, and I was struck by the thunderbolt. And then she didn't even get on the bus - it was like she had a totally different set of priorities than mine... and I hungered to find out more.
That night I got on my moped and followed her as she sat unsafely in the back seat of her convertible. The ideas she sang about fascinated me. Looking
forward to the weekend!? But the weekend is so boring. What could one possibly do? The answer flowed from her lips like honey: Partying. Of course! It all seemed so simple! I had to see more. So I followed her whole crew (including that moustachioed chick with the accordion) to an awesome party. Everywhere I looked, people were getting out of cars or dancing in front of trees. Nothing much else happened, but it was the best time of my life.
When I woke up next morning, I was actually excited, rather than bored, to greet the wonders of the weekend. I hurried through my bowl and my cereal, and rushed out to find the next party. It was awesome! I partied all weekend, and by the time Monday rolled around, I was so tired and hungover that I fell for the oldest trick in the book at chess club and was checkmated in three moves. But it was worth it. I was a partyer!
The next week of school was a blur. I could hardly wait for Friday to roll around, to see that angelic harbinger of parties exit her house, having smoked her bowl and eaten her cereal (or at least that's my understanding), and jump in the backseat (she always chooses that same seat, despite the deliberation) of her awkward dancing friend's convertible. To watch her disobey all traffic laws and dance in front of that tree. If the first Friday was the best night of my life, this next one was a close second.
I researched everything I could about Fridays - their references in movies, songs, popular culture. I learned the history of the Gregorian Calendar, I counted up how many Fridays had occurred throughout all time. But it still wasn't enough. Until.... everything changed again.
It was around the fifth Friday after I had first seen
her. Something clicked, like an alarm going off at 7am. What was so great about these parties, anyway? It's always the same thing - the same dancing, the same entrance hall with people getting out of their cars, the same dude in his car rambling for 8 bars about changing lanes driving next to a cop. And
her voice - so monotone, so ... AUGMENTED by technology. And who was she looking at the whole time? It was as if there was a camera there that only she could see. Could it be? Yes, it was definitely the case: Fridays had begun to lose their luster.
I kept going to the parties. What else could I do? Gettin' Down had become an obligation, a sick twisted duty that I couldn't escape. Fridays had become like a car wreck: each moment more horrible than the last, yet I could not look away. I began to dread the weekend, as I once had done, but now I also dreaded the weekdays: the manic Mondays, the weekly screenings of
Gone With the Wind on Tuesdays, the essays due on Thursdays, and worst of all, the climactic day that signaled another encore of
her harrowing performance. Parties had become the crux of my cursed life. I hated them, and yet I had nothing left...
There is at least one positive outcome from all these proceedings: I now know what Heaven looks like. The sun is always shining, everyone sings in their own natural voice... and it's always Wednesday......
Continue...
