John Jacob Erickson!

(Let's try this)
“John Jacob Erickson! I am not telling you again. You get your butt out of bed, right now, Young Man! You're going to be late for school.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know, Mum. I'm coming, I'm coming.”

“About time too!”

He sat up, swung his feet out of bed and sat cradling his aching head in his hands. Why, oh why did he do this to himself?

He wished he could blame his so-called friends – going out last night was not his idea. He'd had every intention of staying home, going to bed early and getting up bright and fresh for the first day of another school year.

That didn't work out so well.

The minute Chris and Helen had shown-up, ready for one last night of partying before it was back to the grindstone, he was lost. He could've said no, he didn't have to go out with them; but he didn't and he did. Idiot!

He went to the bathroom and had a quick shower while he was there. It was agony, but it had to be done. Going to school smelling like something the cat dragged in was not on – he'd never hear the end of it.

He avoided getting his hair wet, as much as he could. His head was far too sensitive for that sort of carry-on. He wasn't shaving today either. He should've, but he figured that he'd get away with it. His beard was not all that heavy and, anyway, a bit of 'designer stubble' was quite trendy, wasn't it? That was his excuse anyway.

The mouth-wash tasted as foul as ever and brushing his teeth didn't do much to get the horrible taste out of his mouth. It helped, some, but not a lot.

Back in the bedroom, he dressed in reasonable clothes – not too flash, not too rough. He gulped down a couple of Panadols and slipped the rest into his pocket for later. He'd need a lot of painkillers today.

A strong drink would be good, a bit of the 'hair of the dog that bit him', but no. In his condition he'd just be topping-up and going to school half-cut was not on. There was no drink in his room anyway. He wondered what his mother had in her special cabinet in the lounge? No – his chances of raiding that without being caught were not good. She'd be watching.

A strong coffee would have to do. It might help to wake him up a bit. His mother sat at the kitchen table, frowning at him when he walked in there.

“I suppose you won't be wanting any breakfast today?”

“Hell, no,” he replied. “I couldn't face food. I'll have a coffee and be on my way.”

“Just as I thought. There's coffee in the pot.You really should eat something. You can't go all day on nothing.”

“I'll eat, later. Maybe.” He poured a coffee and drank it down.

“You and I are going to have a serious talk when you get home. You can't go on like this, John.”

“I do know that. Don't bug me, Mum. I'm not well you know.”

“And whose fault is that? You're the one who was out all night, boozing and carousing, and you knew you had school today! It's time you were gone, your brother left ages ago. He'll be there by now.”

“Good for him. Now we know who the Good Son is, don't we?”

“Don't be a Smart-mouth. Well, Goodbye, John. Have a lovely day.”

“Yeah, right! Like that's going to happen? 'Bye, Mum.”

He slung his bag over his shoulder and walked out of the house – out into the bright sunshine. Yeow! His eyes, his brain hurt – it was all way too bright outside. He went back inside and back to his room. He needed his sunglasses.

“What are you doing now?” His mother protested.

“Forgot something.” He walked back through the room.

She looked up and shook her head. “Sunglasses? You're not going for a day at the beach! You'll have to get a move on or you will be late and you can't afford that. You've got a position in the school now and you've got responsibilities. People are watching you all the time.”

“You think I don't know that? They'll have something to look at today, won't they? Goodbye again.”

It was not far to the school, only a couple of short blocks, but today it was a long walk. The sun beat down mercilessly, like a super-sized spotlight. Birds screeched in the trees and cars roared passed in the street. If he ever wanted to torture someone, this would be the way to do it. There weren't many kids around, he was late.

There was no time for messing around when he arrived at the school. He had a quick glance at his schedule for the day and went to Room 4 for his first class – Year 10, Geography.

At least he had no books to collect. The couple that he needed were already in his bag with the laptop.

He grimaced at the mob of noisy teenagers milling around and waiting outside Room 4. Every other class had gone in and started. He opened the door, went inside and sat waiting not-so-patiently while they all stampeded in and found somewhere to sit.

The noise! It was like a parliament of baboons – a herd of elephants running wild. He heaved himself upright and stood glowering at them until they'd all settled down. Some of the Little Sods were smiling knowingly, nodding at each other and grinning.

The biggest grin adorned the smug face of his younger brother, Peter. They should not even know what a hangover looked like. Mind you, when he was their age, he knew, all too well.

“All right then,” he spoke up, a bit too loud. “If you've all quite finished. Welcome to Year 10 Geography. You can start by reading the introduction in your yellow text-books. That explains this year's programme far better than I can.

Quietly, if you please!”