“Late.”

Mr. Demev looked up from his desk, face creased with age and disappointment. He wasn’t even looking at the stapled collection of papers that Martin had just laid on his desk.

“But, I need-”

The teacher cut him off by tapping a sign displayed just above his head. It read, “NO LATE WORK.”

Martin continued anyway, saying, “I- I need this assignment, sir. I was absent yesterday.”

“Unexcused.”

“Mr. Demev, my mom just hasn’t written the note yet, and I need this grade! It’ll all be worked out - “

The bell rang over the intercom, cutting him short.

“You may have a seat, Mr. Clovis,” the teacher said, handing the project back up to his student.

Martin Clovis made a noise halfway between sighing and grumbling, took the sheet, and walked back to his desk. Behind him, Mr. Demev began a lecture about early American government. Martin sighed again, pulling his books out of his backpack.

“Dude, you have got to stop skipping so much! If the attendance office bothered to count all the time you’ve lost, you’ll get detention till the end of the freakin’ world!” said a blond teen leaning over to whisper in Martin’s ear.

“Shut up, Dan. Don’t wanna talk,” Martin replied.

“I’m just saying,” Dan finished as he leaned back into his seat.

Martin was still pissed after what had happened that morning. He’d woken up, and started to put the trash outside for the garbage man, only to find his mother getting rid of boxes and boxes of old stuff - his dad’s stuff, to be precise. They’d argued for half an hour, with his mom complaining about how they took up way too much space, and they could hide insect infestations, while Martin told her she didn’t have a right to empty the boxes without asking him, and there were no bugs in the house. The argument had been cut short by the garbage man coming in and shoving the boxes in with the rest of the trash, the driving off before Martin could stop them. He’d almost hit someone in the drive to school, barely had time to print this damn project out in the library, and now it wasn’t even being accepted. And, truthfully, he’d had an excuse for the previous day’s absence - dental appointment. He’d even have the excuse slip, but his mom had forgotten to fill it out amid the morning ruckus.

“Mr. Clovis, what war did Theodore Roosevelt get the Nobel Peace Prize for negotiating an end to?”

Martin’s head jerked upwards at the teacher, struggling for an answer. “Um, uh… World War One?”

Some of the people close to the front of the room sniggered.

“Minus one point, for not paying attention. Now, like I was saying, in addition to negotiating the end to the Russo-Japanese War, President Roosevelt championed food safety reform…”

Mr. Demev turned back to the chalkboard to continue his lecture, apparently assuming that public embarrassment would be a good motivator to get people to concentrate. It didn’t work, and as the class went on, Martin found himself slowly falling asleep. He thankfully got up when the bell rang after what had seemed like ages.

His exit was cut short by Mr. Demev’s beckoning hand. Martin turned away for a moment to make a face, then walked back to the teacher’s desk.

“Now, Mr. Clovis… You have a D. You need to concentrate more in this class. What is the problem?”

Martin looked right at the aging history teacher. Right at his ridiculous white moustache, in fact. You should know what the damn problem is! Everyone knows! he wanted to blurt out.

“I… I didn’t sleep much last night,” he managed.

“Strange, considering you had all day in which to sleep.”

“Mr. Demev, it was a doctor’s appointment! It should be excused! I’ll have it sorted out tomorrow!”

“Tomorrow,” the teacher said, “is Saturday.”

“Monday, then. Can I turn in my project now and give you the slip then?”

“No. Supposing you do convince Attendance to accept a late excuse slip, I might accept it.”

He could have done with just the ‘no.’ Martin well knew that Mr. Demev would forget the agreement over the weekend, and nothing would come our of the five-page report. Instead of replying, Martin just turned around and left.

 The hall was empty, and with a sinking feeling, he began to run. The bell rang, and he started running faster. The final class of the day was Drama, his favourite subject and the the only class in which he had an ‘A.’ They were giving out parts for their next play, a stage adaptation of Dracula, and Martin wanted to get the title role. But the drama teacher hated lateness. Finally, he staggered through the doorway, panting for breath.

“Late.”

Again.

He set his books down, and they got to work auditioning the various parts. Martin thought he’d done well, but the disappointed look in his teacher’s face reeked of ’secondary role.’ The bell rang once more, and Martin grabbed his bag and walked outside. He hoped his mother would be late - the last thing he needed on a day like this was another argument with his mom.

The sky outside was cloudy. It didn’t help anyone’s mood, least of all Martin’s. He walked out to his car -a beat-up old sedan - and sat down, clearing trash off the passenger’s seat for his backpack. The drive home took longer, an accident forcing him to take a detour home. Eventually, he drove into his house’s driveway, then grabbed his bag and keys and got out. His keys seemed oddly light, and Martin remembered that his mother had lost her house keys and borrowed his.  He hoped she’d remembered to leave the door open. He didn’t feel like having to wait outside or in his car for an hour.

He tried the door.

It was locked.

Shit.