1st Class of the School Year

The sun shone brightly over the schoolyard as Charlie Fuller, Lamar Stevens, and Blake Montgomery gathered around a lunch table, their schedules spread out before them. As they discuss their classes, the anticipation of a new school year lingers in the air.

"What do you guys have for first period?" Charlie asked, scanning his schedule.

"I got English," he announced.

"Same here, room 107," Lamar chimed in.

Charlie nodded, a sense of camaraderie forming between him and Lamar. "Same here, alright, bro," he replied, sealing their shared fate.

They exchanged their signature handshake, a testament to their strong bond forged over the years. As they sat together, Blake interjected, "Who's the teacher?"

Lamar shrugged, a hint of indifference in his voice. "I don't know. It says TBD."

Charlie leaned back, a mischievous grin playing on his face. "It doesn't matter; we aren't going to do anything in that class."

Lamar chuckled, fully aware of their shared laid-back approach to certain subjects. "Ain't that right."

The conversation took a turn as Charlie turned his attention to Blake. "Are you still taking the Photo Journalism class?"

Blake nodded enthusiastically. "Yup."

Charlie smiled, appreciating Blake's passion for photography. "Awesome, bro."

Lamar couldn't resist teasing Blake. "You're doing it to have an easy class, aren't you?"

Blake chuckled, caught between wanting an easy class and genuinely being interested in photography. "Yes and no."

Laughter filled the air as they bantered and joked around, their friendship evident in every interaction. However, their conversation was soon interrupted by the arrival of Hailey.

Lamar nudged Charlie, a playful smirk on his face. "Heads up, Charlie."

Blake joined in the teasing. "Uh oh, love of your life alert."

Charlie rolled his eyes, knowing they wouldn't let him live it down. "Shut up, Blake."

Hailey approached them, holding her schedule in hand, exuding confidence. "What's up, Charlie, Blake, and..." she glanced at Lamar, "...it?"

Lamar smirked, taking the opportunity to tease her back. "Charlie, what's the spawn of Satan doing out in daylight?"

Hailey retaliated, unfazed. "Fuck you, Lamar."

Lamar smirked, delivering an improvised comeback. "No thanks."

Charlie chuckled, trying to play peacemaker. "Hey, you started it."

Hailey let out an exasperated sigh, her annoyance is evident. "Ugh. What do you have first period?"

Charlie glanced at Lamar, a knowing look passing between them. "Lamar and I have English."

Blake chimed in, adding his own class to the mix. "And I have my photojournalism class."

Hailey smiled, genuinely interested in their choices. "Sounds like fun."

Blake shrugged, hoping it lived up to his expectations. "I hope so."

Curiosity filled Hailey's eyes as she inquired about Damian's absence. "Hey, where's Damian?"

Charlie's demeanor changed slightly, a flicker of concern in his eyes. "I don't know. He should've been here by now."

Lamar shrugged nonchalantly, offering his own hypothesis. "Knowing him, he's probably sleeping and just waking up."

Hailey nodded, understanding Damian's tendency to oversleep. "Yeah, I can see that."

Blake's imagination took a wild turn as he playfully suggested an unlikely scenario. "What if he got kidnapped by aliens with weird masks and swords?"

Lamar and Hailey exchanged skeptical glances, questioning Blake's vivid imagination. Hailey dismissed the idea, pointing out Blake's TV habits.

"I don't think so, Blake. I think you watch too much TV. Like Lamar said, he probably overslept."

Lamar added a touch of humor, poking fun at Blake's cultural background. "Yeah, besides, aren't you Cubans always late to everything anyway?"

All eyes turned to Charlie, waiting for his response. He took a moment, considering his words carefully.

"Looks like he'll be here. If he's late, I know he has a valid reason for being so."

The group fell into a brief silence, a sense of anticipation lingering in the air.

***

Inside Damian's mother's bedroom, Damian Butler, a sixteen-year-old boy, sits on a chair next to the bed. The room is filled with medical equipment, sustaining Meredith Butler, Damian's mother, who lies on the bed. Damian gazes at his mom with a sense of profound sadness, empathizing with her pain. He glances up at the clock on the wall and then checks his phone, finding a text message from Charlie Fuller:

"Hey, everyone is wondering where you're at. Don't worry, I covered for you. Hope your mom's doing okay. Get here soon, bro."

Realizing he is already late for school, Damian stands up and walks over to his mom, taking her hand in his. He watches the machines that support her, observing her pulse beat and beat. Meredith grasps Damian's hand, offering him comfort. He looks at his mother lying in bed, helpless and frail.

"Good morning, Mom," Damian says, his voice filled with a mix of affection and concern.

Meredith responds, her voice troubled but filled with love. "Hi, baby."

Damian fights back his emotions, trying to hold back his tears. "How are you feeling?"

Meredith, despite her own struggles, attempts a weak laugh. "Oh, I've been better."

Damian manages a slight chuckle, trying to bring a moment of levity. "That's good, glad to hear, Mom."

Meredith glances at the clock, noticing the time. "Look at the time. You're going to be late for school. Just go, I'll be fine."

Damian shakes his head, determined not to leave her side. "No, Dad will be here any second now, and then I'll head out."

Meredith, troubled, insists, "But it's the first day of school. You can't be late for your first day."

Damian's eyes fill with a deep sense of understanding. "Sometimes, school can wait."

Tears well up in Meredith's eyes as she feels the weight of her illness on Damian. He notices her tears and immediately embraces his mother, holding her tightly. After a few moments, Jackson Butler, Damian's father, finally enters the room, expressing his apologies for being late.

Damian releases his mother and turns to his dad, wiping away his own tears. His voice is choked with emotion. "It's okay. Did you pick up the new meds?"

Jackson reaches into a bag and retrieves the medications. "Yes, I did."

Damian nods, a glimmer of relief in his eyes. "Okay, good."

Damian grabs his backpack and gives his dad a heartfelt hug. "She's doing okay. I'll be home sometime after school. Call me for anything, okay?"

Jackson nods, a mix of gratitude and concern on his face. "I will."

With a heavy heart, Damian heads towards the door. But before leaving, he stops and turns to both of his parents.

"Love you both," he whispers, his words carrying the weight of his devotion.

Damian turns and runs out of the house, his mind filled with a mix of determination, love, and the burdens that life has placed upon him.

***

The morning sunlight filters through the windows of the English classroom, casting a warm glow over the empty seats. Charlie Fuller and Lamar Stevens enter the room, their footsteps echoing softly in the stillness. Their eyes scan the space, searching for the perfect spot. They exchange a glance and make their way toward the back of the class, hoping to remain inconspicuous.

Charlie Fuller, a wiry teenager with a perpetual smirk, can't help but voice his curiosity.

"Don't you think it's weird that they haven't picked a teacher yet?" he whispers to Lamar, his best friend since childhood.

Lamar Stevens, a tall and lanky figure, shrugs, his eyes scanning the room for any signs of activity.

"Yeah, I just hope it's an easy class," Lamar replies, a hint of concern in his voice.

They settle into their seats in the back, eager to keep a low profile. With practiced efficiency, they pull out their notebooks and supplies from their backpacks, each lost in their own thoughts.

"So, are you going to be ready for practice later?" Charlie asks, trying to initiate a conversation.

Lamar looks up from arranging his pens and pencils, his expression a mixture of anticipation and doubt.

"That depends," Lamar says with a playful grin. "Are you finally going to stop hogging the ball and actually pass it to me?"

Charlie laughs and playfully shoves Lamar's shoulder. "Shut up, bro. You know I got skills."

As Charlie starts rummaging through his bag, Lamar's attention is momentarily diverted to the front door. He catches sight of a figure entering the room, and a sinking feeling settles in his gut.

"Ah, shit," Lamar mutters, his voice barely audible.

Charlie looks up, following Lamar's gaze, and his heart sinks as he sees Coach Michelle Gibson, their strict and no-nonsense coach, striding toward the front of the class.

"What?" Charlie asks, confused by Lamar's sudden distress.

Then, Charlie's eyes meet the dreaded sight of Coach Gibson, and the pieces fall into place. "Oh, God, no," he whispers, the color draining from his face.

Lamar's pessimistic prediction rings in their minds. "There goes the easy class," he says, resigned to their fate.

The sound of the bell breaks the tension, and students file into the classroom, finding their seats and settling down. The once-empty room is now abuzz with whispered conversations and the rustling of papers.

Coach Gibson stands at the front, her presence commanding attention. She clears her throat and addresses the class, her stern gaze sweeping across the room until it lands on Charlie and Lamar, trying their best to blend in with the background.

"Charlie Fuller, Lamar," Coach Gibson says, her voice laced with annoyance. "What the hell are you doing in the back of the classroom?"

Lamar nervously shifts in his seat, searching for a plausible explanation. "Cause, coach..."

Coach Gibson cuts him off, her tone leaving no room for argument. "In the front, now!"

Charlie and Lamar exchange resigned glances and reluctantly rise from their seats, making their way toward two open seats in the front row. The eyes of their classmates follow their every move, mixing amusement and pity.

Coach Gibson continues her introduction, discussing the syllabus and expectations for the class. She hands out copies of the syllabus to each student, ensuring they understand the curriculum.

As she approaches Charlie's desk, Coach Gibson pauses, her eyes studying his face intently.

"How are you feeling, Charlie Fuller?" she asks, concern etched in her voice.

Charlie musters a weak smile, his eyes betraying a hint of apprehension. "I'm okay, coach."

Coach Gibson nods, her gaze lingering on his arm. "Your arm is feeling good. You'll be ready for Friday?"

Charlie's confidence returns, his voice firm. "It's good, and yeah, I'll be ready."

Lamar interjects a touch of swagger in his words. "I'll be ready, coach. Scoring touchdowns all day."

Coach Gibson can't help but roll her eyes, a sarcastic smile tugging at her lips. "Of course, you will, Lamar."

Lamar grins back at her, relishing the playful banter.

Coach Gibson retreats to her desk and begins taking attendance, calling out each student's name. The classroom echoes with a chorus of "here" as students respond one by one.

"Anderson, Mickey," Coach Gibson calls out.

"Here," Mickey responds promptly.

"Apollo, Nichole," Coach Gibson continues.

"Here," Nichole replies, her voice filled with enthusiasm.

Coach Gibson scans her list and finds the next name. "Butler, Damian."

Silence follows, as Damian is nowhere to be seen. Coach Gibson's stern gaze lands on Charlie, seeking an explanation.

"Damian," Coach Gibson questions, her tone firm. "Charlie Fuller, where's your cousin?"

Charlie fidgets under her scrutiny, but his loyalty to his family compels him to defend Damian. "He's on his way. He'll be here."

Coach Gibson nods, her eyes flickering with understanding. "Okay."

Resuming her role call, Coach Gibson proceeds down the list. Charlie takes a moment to check his phone discreetly, finding a text from Damian.

On my way, the message reads.

***

In another part of the school, the photojournalism class is in session. Blake Montgomery, a talented photographer with a keen eye, sits attentively as Britney Harrington, the class president, takes charge.

Britney, an articulate and confident teenager, stands at the front of the class, projecting a sense of authority.

"Okay, so that's it for the introduction," Britney announces, her voice filled with determination. "Now, it's time to assign jobs. We are looking for a lead photographer, website designer, and layout manager. Everyone else will serve as support staff on the site and school paper."

Britney walks over to a computer connected to a large screen, ready to showcase the portfolios. She opens a folder, revealing a slideshow of Blake's impressive work.

"After reviewing several portfolios, Mr. Lewis and I have decided that our lead photographer will be Blake Montgomery," Britney declares, a smile of approval gracing her lips.

Blake's face lights up with gratitude. "Sweet, thanks for giving me this opportunity."

Britney continues, emphasizing the responsibilities of the lead photographer. Her words echo through the room, emphasizing the importance of capturing moments, especially featuring high-profile individuals.

"Take pictures of everyone and everything, but pay special attention to high-profile people," Britney instructs, her gaze locked on Blake. "Examples include student council members and notable athletes like Dylan McGrorty and John Riggs from the baseball team, or Charlie Fuller and Lamar Stevens from the football team."

Blake nods, brimming with excitement. "Sounds good. I'm ready for whatever you throw my way."

The photojournalism teacher interjects, addressing Britney. "Okay, Britney, we'll fill the other two roles tomorrow. Let's discuss the big year-long project."

Britney's eyes gleamed with anticipation, her mind already forming a plan. "Yes, yes I do," she responds confidently.

***

Back in the English classroom, the air is filled with a mixture of anticipation and weariness. Charlie and Lamar sit among their classmates, listening attentively as Coach Gibson delves into a series of books they'll be reading throughout the semester. The class is just minutes away from its conclusion when Damian finally arrives.

Coach Gibson acknowledges Damian's late arrival with a brief nod, her voice calm. "Damian, glad you could join us."

Apologizing for his tardiness, Damian hurries to find an open seat. Coach Gibson approaches him, handing him a syllabus without a trace of anger.

"It's all good," Coach Gibson assures him. "Just don't let it happen too often, okay?"

Damian nods, a mixture of relief and determination evident in his eyes. "Okay."

As the final bell rings, signaling the end of the class, students gather their belongings and make their way toward the exit. Coach Gibson addresses the class one last time.

"No homework tonight," she announces a rare hint of warmth in her voice. "You'll receive your textbooks tomorrow, and then the real fun begins."

The students disperse, their chatter blending with the sound of shuffling feet.

The unexpected turns of the day have set the stage for a year filled with challenges, triumphs, and unpredictable paths that lie ahead.