'This is the day.' I told myself. 'This is my day...'

My name is Amson, high-school student, unemployed-yet-looking, pretty cool guy, if I do say so myself. My first day of high school-- senior year of high school... I'm already falling hard, but you get what I mean, right?

Throughout high school till now, I've been nothing but-- well, a nobody. Nothing substantial comes to mind even when I think on it now. Grades: average, sports: sub-par, and just about everything else checks similar boxes. I've done just about nothing since the start of high school, but this year's gonna be different; it's gotta be.

Trust me when I say I've got this shit down to a science. I can't help but laugh like some TV villain every time I play it over in my head.

First, I raise my grades-- easy enough. To be completely honest, I haven't had to study a day of my life and still pass with nearly a B. Second, gains-- like massive, glow-up, six-figure six pack. In the bag-- check. And, last but CERTAINLY not least-- a girlfriend, the final, indisputable sign of my plan's success. Honestly again, I could probably do without the other two if I get this last one.

'Wait-- I must stay focused.' I shook myself free from the thought.

In order for me to graduate from Butcher Cross, I've got to sign with a college... or come back in 50 years for my GED. The weight of my options has to go even.

So, I'll say again. My plan: Grades, Gains, Girlfriend. Perfectly perfect, as my senior year is soon to be. I just need to make that first step. I took a deep breath, calming myself ever-so-slightly.

Still, I couldn't pull myself free from the comfort of my bed.

///

"Good morning, champ." Dad said, shoving mom's cooking down his throat. "How'd you sleep?"

I lugged myself toward the dining room table, and sat next to him, facing Mom who was behind it. The sizzling fire hissed throughout the air as she remained hard at work, hardly having the time to say good morning to me as well, but I'd grown used to it at this point. She was a cooking fanatic; nothing could keep her away from the stove, sometimes.

Well, I'm not complaining. It shows. She's an insane cook in every sense of the word, and Dad and I can hardly say a word to one another with a face stuffed with eggs, southern sausage, and gravy.

I grabbed my share, and while I ate, the unimaginable happened. Dad spoke to me, flinging food particles down my newly washed clothes, and I flinched, struggling to keep them dry.

"So..." He smacked. "How're you feeling your first day of senior year."

I wiped my clothes, annoyed.

"It's gonna be fine, I guess." I mumbled. "I'm gonna start off new."

Dad's eyebrows raised.

"Start off new, huh?" He pushed his fork into another helping of sausage. "I remember my first day of senior year almost as if it were yesterday. I'm glad you're thinking about making the most out of it."

"Th-Thanks." I said, turning back to my food.

Once again, I shut my mouth and chewed, taking in the warmth of Mom's food. I looked up from my plate to where she stood, finally taking a rest after taking steam to the face for the past hour. After a while, she took notice of my glance, gifting me with a smile which I could only return in kind.

I raised my fork in respect.

"Food's good, ma." I said with a full mouth. "Still the same recipe?"

"I'd never change something that works so well." She replied. "It's almost a new taste every bite."

She wasn't wrong, but I'm almost sure she copied it from a video online. Props.

"You can say that again." I took another bite.

Suddenly, I felt an arm on my shoulder, shaking me to where I nearly dropped my fork full of eggs. Dad held a serious expression as my eyes raised to him, and he spoke just as serious, catching me off guard.

"Just don't overdo it." He warned. "I've seen some good friends take too many risks in order to make an impression on people, especially women. You've got a good head on your shoulders, son, and although you don't always use it, I trust you."

"Of course, Dad." I said, finally swallowing my food. "Loud and clear."

///

Finally, there I was, the field of my year-long battle against the system that was the Butch County School System. I walked with haste, but not so much haste to gain suspicion. I had to be diligent, yet not stand out, at least just yet.

Around me was a sea of faces, too many to distinguish any from another, which was for the best. The plan is to blend in and slowly cultivate my place in school again, as if I'd never been at Butcher Cross.

"Hey, Amson!" A voice called.

Mission one: failed, but it was to be expected. Though I said I was absolutely nobody, that applies to only about 99.7% of Butcher High Students, and this happens to be in that 0.3%. Baun, weird name but a cool dude, is massively more renowned than I am and probably ever would be if I hadn't made my plan of escape from the system's void.

"What's up, man." I waved from afar.

The dude's known for not only his grades but his looks too. Trimmed beard, lumberjack physique, and the face of a Greek sculpture. The archetype is almost impossible, yet there he stood, sifting through the crowd of people to meet me who was leaning against my locker. I have to admit, I couldn't help but smile when I looked at him. After all, we'd been friends for a long while, even before the slump of my life, high school. Baun's even got a girlfriend of his own, though I don't know if I'd even call her one.

The thing is, he doesn't keep girlfriends for long, or rather, they don't keep him entertained long enough for him to bother. But I can't necessarily blame the guy with the repertoire of bitches he's attracted over the years. Typically, I'm just the sideman, observing them, making friends with them, and seeing them off.

Sometimes I wonder why he hangs out with me. Although he's not the most popular guy in school, I can't help but think he might grow bored of me too, leaving me out to the wilderness that happened to be the hallway right now, but I digress.

I'm thinking way too much.

Baun finally met me at my locker, having trekked through the horde of students.

"So..." He paused. "You holding up ok? I remember you said over text that you wanted to pull through senior year as something new."

"So far, so good." I responded as he leaned beside me. "Still trying to overcome this feeling in my gut."

"It's ok to admit when you're nervous man." Baun assured me. "I've got your back, Amson."

Baun extended is fist, and I reciprocated, a smile forcing its way onto my face. As soon as they made contact, Baun spoke again, pointing to something.

"First order of business, we get schedules, then it's time for full effect." He said. "You're gonna throw a party."