A light elbow to the chest woke Tyson from his sleep. He quickly opened his eyes, looking around at his surroundings in alarm until he realized that he was in lecture hall. He must have fallen asleep in class again. He glanced over at his friend Matthew, who gave him a little smirk.
“How long was I asleep for?” Tyson muttered under his breath.
“Only a couple of minutes. I would’ve woken you sooner, but you look so cute when you sleep,” Matthew replied with a wink.
Lecture had just ended, and both Tyson and Matthew rose from their seats and packed their bags.
“Tyson? Can I have a word with you?” Professor Duncan called from the front of the lecture hall.
“I’ll wait for you outside. Good luck,” Matthew whispered, heading towards the exit with the other students.
Tyson let out a sigh as he approached Professor Duncan. The man was in his early fifties, with short gray hair and a well weathered face that indicated he had been through much in his life. He looked on at Tyson disapprovingly with his steely gaze, packing his own supplies into his satchel as he did so.
“Did you have a good rest?” Duncan asked snidely with no trace of amusement.
“Professor, I -” Tyson started.
“I’m sure you have a good excuse, just as you did the last half a dozen times I caught you sleeping in my class. I am not interested in your personal issues. What I am interested in is why you choose to take up a spot in my class when there is a waitlist of students that actually want to learn what I am teaching,” Duncan lectured, sliding off his glasses and rubbing his eyes.
“It’s just-” Tyson tried again.
“Every single person in this class has personal issues going on, Tyson. The difference between them and you is that they find a way to manage their problems so they can contribute meaningfully to this class, not sleep through it. At this point, you are going to need to ace the midterm next week just to scrape by with a passing grade, and based on your academic history, I find that highly doubtful,” Duncan slung his satchel up his arm and started heading for the lecture exit, walking past Tyson as he did so.
“Are you saying you’re kicking me out of the class?” Tyson asked in shock.
Duncan glanced over his shoulder at Tyson, a trace of pity in his dark blue eyes. “I’m saying that you need to get your priorities in check. Must I remind you that failing my class means you will get cut from all extracurricular activities?” Before Tyson could respond, Professor Duncan swiftly exited out into the hallway, leaving him along with his thoughts.
“So how bad did that go?” Matthew asked once Tyson emerged from the classroom. Matthew was the same age as Tyson, and the two had been good friends since meeting as freshmen in college. While Tyson was the athletic type, Matthew was more academic oriented. Despite being heavily dedicated to his studies, Matthew was in good physique, with his daily morning runs allowing him to maintain a slim frame. He had curly blonde hair and bright green eyes with a charming smile that gave him the perfect boy-next-door appearance.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” Tyson replied sullenly, falling in step with Matthew as they made their way through the campus towards the parking lot.
“Not great then,” Matthew surmised.
“He’s saying I’m going to fail the course. And if I fail the course, that means I’m off the team,” Tyson explained through gritted teeth, clenching his fists.
“It sounds like you could really use study group then. I’m meeting some friends in the library to prep for next week’s midterm; you should come,” Matthew offered.
“Nothing would make me happier, but I’ve got to get to work,” Tyson declined reluctantly. He could really use the extra help studying, but there was no way he could afford not to go into work. He was barely keeping up with his tuition payments and Kyle kept bothering him about getting caught up in his rent.
“Sorry, I forgot. Well, if you get off early, we’ll likely be studying late tonight. Text me!” Matthew shouted as he hurried away, heading towards the campus library.
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Tyson wiped a thick layer of grease off the deep fryers with a damp cloth, hard rock music pounding through his headphones. Luckily, it had been a slower night at work so far, and Leon had agreed to maintain the counter so that Tyson could focus on cleaning up the kitchen.
“Tyson!” Leon shouted so that Leon could hear him over the music blaring through his ears. Tyson looked up from the fryer and took out his headphones, turning to face Leon.
Leon was in his early thirties, with a dark black baseball cap covering his bright cotton candy pink hair. He also had on a long-sleeved black shirt to cover the sleeves of tattoos he had on both his arms. The only hint of his rebellious nature noticeable in his work attire was the metal spike running through his right eyebrow. Tyson and Leon had been flirting with each other since they had started working together months ago, but with Tyson’s busy schedule he didn’t have time to even think about pursuing relationships.
“I’m heading out for a smoke break. Can you watch the counter?” Leon asked. Tyson nodded in agreement, rising from his knees and taking off the grease-stained apron he was wearing before heading out front to the counter area.
The bell rung, and Tyson looked to see his teammate and rival Travis entering. Travis was wearing his varsity letterman’s jacket with a skin-tight V-neck shirt on underneath, showing off his pecs and abs. Tyson and Travis had briefly been friends when they joined the football team at the same time, but Travis quickly grew to resent Tyson after Tyson had been made starting quarterback by their coach.
“Oh hey, Tyson,” Travis laughed, giving Tyson a quick once over in his unflattering work uniform, “I forgot you worked at this shithole.” Travis ran his hand through his spiky jet-black hair, his dark brown eyes sparkling with joy at torturing Tyson.
“What do you want, Travis?” Tyson asked, rolling his eyes.
“Missed you at football practice tonight. Not really, because it gave me another chance to show coach how wrong he was to make you part of our starting line,” Travis continued.
“I had to work. Coach was okay with me missing practice,” Tyson explained, feeling the rage seething inside of him.
“Still,” Travis smirked, “You’ve been missing a lot of practices lately. How long do you think Coach realizes you’re dead weight and just drops you from the team completely?”
Tyson wanted to leap over the counter and punch Travis, but he knew that would do him no good. Instead he calmly steadied his breathing and maintained a stony expression while facing Travis. “Are you going to order something?”
“Nah, I think I’ve lost my appetite. The smell wafting off you is rancid,” Travis chuckled, turning to exit.
After their shift, Leon offered to take Tyson out for a drink, but Tyson had to politely decline. As much as he loved the idea of having some downtime, he needed to get some sleep to be ready for football practice tomorrow. After his run in with Travis, Tyson needed to be sure to bring his A game.
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Tyson slowly crept into the small apartment he was renting out, trying not to awaken his roommate Kyle. It was well after midnight, and he didn’t want another noise complaint. As he was making a quick dinner before bed, he noticed a note left on the fridge.
'Tyson, I wanted to talk to you about this in person but you’re never home these days. You are still two months behind in rent. You know I like you and I don’t mind covering for you now and again, but this is getting out of hand. I can’t keep paying both your rent and mine. If you can’t get caught up by the end of the month, I’m going to have to start looking for another roommate.
-Kyle'
Tyson shook his head in frustration, feeling completely overwhelmed and unsure of how to proceed. He just didn’t have enough time to do everything he needed to do; it was impossible to juggle a full-time job, college courses and varsity football. Some days he wished he could split himself in two; it felt like the only way he could ever get ahead in life.
Tyson’s cellphone chimed, and he pulled it out of his pocket to see that he’d just received an email. He opened his inbox to see that it was just another spam mail; he was about to delete it when the email heading caught his interest.
“Clone machine?” He read aloud, arching his eyebrows.