The rest of the day was fairly uneventful for Greg Reynolds. A couple of classes, where he paid some attention but didn't focus it all, ad chatting with his mates in the hallway. The end of the day had him meeting up with Jake and some of the other football players. He looked at them, feeling a strange sensation in his head. These people looked so foreign to him, yet he knew all of their names and so many small details about them that only friends would know. Tyler had a scar on his hip from a bicycle crash. Zeke had his appendix removed in Grade 8. Carson's parents were divorced and he was rarely in town on the weekends. It felt so surreal to Greg, almost like he was inside a movie.
"Earth to Greg!" exclaimed Tyler.
"Yo!" Greg replied, snapping out of that weird headspace he was in.
"Man, you've been spacing out a lot lately. You get hit in the head with a football or something?" his friend replied.
Greg laughed. "Yeah, as if. You really think I'd miss a catch?"
The group had a laugh. Greg was an up and coming talent, but his comment was certainly tongue-in-cheek, everyone dropped balls at practice. Egos and chirping were just the boys way of camaraderie.
"So, what are your plans for tonight?" asked Jake, changing the subject.
"Probably homework. I've been kind of behind in the English class and have to catch up. An essay to do and all that." replied Greg.
Zeke booed. "Dude, that won't take that long. Kick it back with us tonight."
"What are you guys doing?"
"Bowling, then some drinks at my place. Parents are out of town for the weekend and left this morning." said Jake.
"And you didn't bother to tell me? Wanker!" exclaimed Greg, getting laughter out of the group.
"Hahaha, you really picked up some slang from your parents, didn't you?" chimed in Carson. "Speaking of, I'm staying here for the weekend so I'll be around tonight too. You should come!"
Greg frowned. "I really want to, now that you mention that! But my parents know that I have to work, I'll have a hard time convincing them."
"Tell them it's a study party or some shit." suggested Zeke.
Now it was Greg's turn to laugh, "Yeah, I'm sure that'll go over great and they'll totally believe me. Look, I'll try to get as much done as I can and then convince them to let me go."
"So you're saying you'll be there!" teased Jake. "Your parents really need to chill a bit, they can't just lock you up."
"Yeah, well, you know, things have been busy with moving recently." replied Greg, which raised some eyebrows from his group. Before anyone had a chance to ask him what was up, a school bus pulled up to the curb, and Greg said his quick goodbyes, getting on the bus to not miss it.
Greg slid onto the back of the bus, for some reason feeling most comfortable there. It was rowdy, with the various students talking loudly and chattering on right around him, but Greg felt oddly lonely for some reason. He didn’t feel like participating in the conversations even though he was normally so outgoing. He was outgoing, right? He found himself not wanting to think about it, so he just stared out the window instead, thinking about nothing and looking at the scenery. It had that same familiar-but-not feeling to it, but he decided not to dwell on it.
A short ride later and he was home. He slid in the front door and called out “Ma, pop, I’m home!” His father got up from his seat in the living room and briefly looked confused as he looked at his son, but quickly changed his pace and said his hellos.
“How was school, son?” he asked. Charles Reynolds was a fairly stout man, not very tall and a bit wider than he was in his youth. One would easily describe him as “jovial-looking”, a far cry from his son.
“It was alright, nothing special. Tossed a football with Jake at lunch, didn’t miss a single catch.”
“Ah, I’m glad you’re having fun with handball.”
“Football, pop.” Replied Greg. “Not the same thing.”
His dad laughed. “Sure chap, but everyone knows that football you play with your feet! It’s in the name!”
A pair of legs were heard coming down the stairs. “Charles! Are you torturing our son about sport again?” called Greg’s mother. Matilda was a strong woman, working as an engineer abroad after her company relocated the family to the western world.
“I have never tortured Greg, just having a little jab at him!” laughed Charles. “It’s all in good fun.”
“Right. How are you, dear?” asked Greg’s mom. “Your father not giving you too much headache?”
Greg smiled. “No, he’s just behind the times, that’s all.” Followed by a laugh.
“Greg!” exclaimed his mother in response, “That was rude!”
“It’s fine!” his father chimed in, “I guess I’m just old and tired now! Not like our athlete son who knows everything about sports!”
Greg laughed. “No need to lay it on, pop.”
His mother changed the subject. “Are you going to work on your essay tonight? We were looking at your grades earlier and can see that you haven’t been focused as much on that as we’d like you to be. You have to keep your future in mind, you know.”
Oh boy, thought Greg, another lecture. He loved his parents, but they could be a right pain in the ass sometimes, and the online school system they could log into and see his grades in made it so much worse. “Yeah, for a bit.” He said, trying to not talk about it much to steer the conversation to letting him go out later.
“For a bit?” replied his dad. “I think working only for a bit has you right where you are now? You’re going to need to put in more effort than that!”
“Yeah, but it’s Friday evening! I have the next two days to work on it too.” He said, annoyed.
“And you’ll use the same excuse on Saturday, and then on Sunday you’ll be crammed.” Said his mother. “You have to smarten up while you still have the chance, Greg.”
Greg frowned. “I’ll work as hard as I can now. Maybe it’s best I set a paragraph goal instead of time?” he asked, trying to be clever.
His mom pondered it. “You know, that isn’t such a bad idea.”
“Matilda, what are you thinking?” asked her husband as she stood there in thought.
“Yes, Greg. I’m trusting you to be responsible here. I want that grade brought up.” She said.
“Sick! It’ll be nice to not be spending my entire night slaving away on work.” Greg replied.
“And what did you plan on doing otherwise?” asked his father.
“Well, Jake’s having some people over and I wanted to go..” he said, trailing off his sentence to see how his parents would react.
“I’m not so sure that hanging out with those sports boys outside of school is the best influence on you, Greg.” Said his mother. “But I suppose you’re almost an adult, I can’t really choose your friends for you.”
“I’m not sure what that’s supposed to mean, ma.” He replied.
“I guess I’m just worried about you. My little boy, Greg Cleynolds, growing up so fast.”
“Uh, right.” Said Greg, awkwardly trying to deal with his moms sudden sappiness.
“Give the boy some space, Matilda!” called out his dad. “Especially if you want him to get any work on this essay done.”
“Of course. Check in with us before you leave.” His mom said, as Greg bounded upstairs towards his room.
The first thing he did was boot up his desktop and open his messenger app, sending a DM to Jake. “ill be over tonite, have to get some writing done first tho”, to which he got a thumbs up in response. Booting up word and opening his essay was trivial, and he looked at the page of what he’d written so far. It didn’t look the same as before, being worded in a much simpler manner. Still, looking at it hurt Greg’s brain.
He tried to think of his essay topic, and froze up for a moment. Maybe looking at it anew would help? He pressed the minimize button and was met by a bright red desktop background. The Kansas City Chiefs logo was right across the center of the desktop, with some players in the background. Greg instantly recognized them all. He sat at his desk, clutching his head, trying to figure out what to write, when his messenger app went off again.
“come over at 8”. It was Jake. Greg gave him a thumbs up. That gave him about three hours to work on this essay, and they’d probably all be torture. Maybe his brain just wasn’t working. He stood up, and went over to his bed, sitting down for a moment. He laid down, looking at the ceiling and a poster of his favorite quarterback above him. “I must’ve unpacked some damn quickly.” He said aloud to no one. “It feels like I’ve been here forever.”
The comments didn’t make any sense to him, as he was prattling off his fleeting thoughts. Of course he felt like he was here forever, he was born in this town, but he could also clearly remember moving and unpacking. He went through a mental checklist of his belongings. School supplies, of course, his computer, cleats, some bobblehead figurines.. Sensing he was wasting his time, he got up and went back to his computer, noticing a new addition beside the monitor.
It was a tub of protein powder, and not the cheap kind. This was a brand that professionals would use. Atop the lid was a note: “I hope you like this, Craig!”
Who the fuck was Craig? And how did this get in here? Greg was confused on what exactly it was, but the note caught his eye again. “I hope you like this, Greg!” it read. Huh. He must’ve been seeing things from how much this essay was killing him. The protein powder was probably from one of the boys. It was always good to have great friends.
He prepared a shake quickly, and went back to his computer, opening up the document again. He looked at the wordcount: 78. “How the hell am I going to finish this?” he thought. That had to even include the title page. He scrolled up to the first page, maybe he could at least title it to give him an idea of what to write. Only his name and student number were there: Greg Cleyndords, 1005627495. His last name looked weird to him, that wasn’t much of a name. Maybe it was some weird artefact from his lineage moving from the UK? It wasn’t important.
What was the essay supposed to be about again? He flipped to the browser tab where he had the assignment instructions up. “Juxtaposition is a powerful tool in English literature and can be seen rampantly in Shakespeare’s works. Describe two examples of juxtaposition in Hamlet, one between characters and another between major themes in the book.”
Greg groaned. This was torture. He started typing out a title, or at least a work in progress one. “Fuck bitches, get money. Why hamlet needs to get laid” He laughed, it was funny. Hamlet was a prude, but the story started with his mother remarrying, right? That would definitely count as a juxtaposition or whatever. He saw another message on his screen, and looked over.
“Shit!” he exclaimed, seeing that it was 7:30. Where the hell did the time go? Greg had to get ready to head over to Jake’s with the boys and then drive over. If he didn’t hurry, he’d be late. And his parents wanted to talk to him or whatever, too. Crap! Greg ran to the bathroom quickly and opened up his drawer, brushing his teeth. He grabbed a comb and started running it through his hair. As he ran the teeth through his locks, the hair changed from it’s even length to a stylish fade with some length on the middle. He grabbed some pomade which, unknown to him, was not there beforehand and styled his hair so it’d look good and stay in place. Clean and ready to go, Greg started heading towards the front room to talk to his parents.