//------------------------------// // Chapter 2: A Day Worth Forgetting // Story: Crystal Boundaries of a Skull // by twalaight sparkhul //------------------------------// Chapter 2: A Day Worth Forgetting I woke up, groaning at the weight of the impending day. Today’s the presentation. My alarm didn’t care though, it just kept buzzing, over and over. I took it out of its misery, slamming the snooze button with a wide swing of my arm. Up and over my legs went, landing with a thud on the carpet. I stood up, taking a glance at myself in the mirror on the way to the bathroom. Note to self: mirrors are for when you’re about to leave. I suppressed a shudder. Not when you’re a zombie. A few minutes later, I emerged out of the shower, and stood in front of my closet. I couldn’t wear something too dark today, but I had to keep up some sort of a style. I had about ten shirts, mostly in darker hues. I selected a red one. Onto pants.Shorts? Hmm, too informal. Jeans? I guess? “Alex, come for breakfast!” Oh, right. They were waiting for me. I threw on my socks and shoes, slung on my backpack and took another glance in the mirror. Meh, at least I don’t look dead now. Down the stairs I went, ending up at the kitchen. It was a decent size, enough to hold all four of us. Since my sister went to college last year, we’ve had a bit more room, but my parents always kept the chair there. Just in case. “Did you sleep well?” My mom was making breakfast for this morning: pancakes. Just the Shake N Bake stuff, nothing too fancy. I didn’t really care though. I was too worried about the presentation on Mongols today. I took a seat, and muttered, “I guess.” I glanced up, noticing not one, but two empty seats. “Did Dad leave early?” The spatula slapped against the pan, a bit harder than it should have. “Your father decided to have another one of his early coffee runs for the office. Without telling me, of course,” she finished in an annoyed voice. The pancakes smelled good, I must admit. She leaned against the counter, facing me. “And that’s the fifth time this month.” I glanced at the calendar. “Aren’t we only five days in?” A flat laugh. “Yep.” Silence reigned for a few moments. My mom brought the pancakes over, setting them down on the obnoxiously yellow tablecloth. I never understood why she’d want to be blinded every time she ate. I grunted in thanks as I loaded my plate, filling it up with three pancakes and a slug of syrup. My mom glanced up at me as I incessantly shoveled bite after bite of pancake into my mouth. “Do you have a presentation today?” I stopped for a second and nodded. “I’m sure you’ll do great,” she said with an encouraging smile. “What class is it for?” I slammed my fork down. “History,” I mumbled, before taking a swig of milk. She glanced away for a second. “Make sure you review your notes so you don—” “I know.” “Is it a group project? Do your partners know—” “I’ll be fine!” She sighed, setting her fork down. “I just want you to do your best.” Silence, save for scraping forks and knives. Or rather, my fork and knife. Her’s didn’t move. “Alex, they won’t laugh at you.” I took a moment to swallow, then muttered, “They did it before, what stops them from doing it again?” “Because this time it’s a history presentation. No funny accents, no acting, no long script to memorize. What’s funny about Genghis Khan? You’re basically listing facts.” She leaned forward on the table. “I know it’s hard to get up in front of people and put yourself out there. Even for something as small as a class presentation. But you’re smarter than them, and you got a perfect score on that Othello presentation! Nobody else could even remember their lines!” She giggled. “But honestly,” her face turned serious, “I know you’ll do great, because you have something that none of them have. Passion.” I groaned internally. Passion. Who cares about passion when everyone’s laughing their ass off and even the teacher can’t hold a straight face. I kept eating, and after a few moments of silence my mom picked up her knife and fork and finished off her single pancake. I pushed my chair indignantly away. I can’t stand the silence. “I’m going. Bye.” My backpack was slung over my back, but as I headed out the door, she said — “Love you!” My mom called as I left. Why was I being so mean to her? My feet stopped in their tracks. She always cared for me. Loved me. Supported me. My eyes stung, and not just from the bright sunlight cutting through the door frame. I dragged my feet back to the table, and I wrapped my arms around her in a hug. I muttered two shaky words into her ear: "I'm sorry." She squeezed back. “It’s ok.” And with that, I left. ~~~ “Alex Benton!” My head snapped up. I was daydreaming about what had happened with my mother, and about the notes I had memorized the night before. I was so, so worried, both about my relationship with my mom, and about my presentation. My sources weren’t the best, judging on how poor the websites looked, and what the copyright date was; 2004? Two-thousand fucking FOUR? That was thirteen years ago! Knowing how much of a hardass Mr. Richard can be, I have a nagging fear that he’ll lower my grade. I had looked and looked, and maybe I was just being a dumbass, but as far as I could see, those were the only websites I could find. Every website I had found other than the ones I used for my sources… well, they looked like they came straight out of the 90s. I had made a 10 slide presentation, with a good layout, a good-sized font, and good explanations, as far as I could tell, so everything else was fine. Mr Richard’s eyes narrowed at me from his desk on the other side of the classroom. “Alex? Sometime today?” I got up and, laptop in arm, headed to the front of the classroom. I tried not to trip on any backpacks along the way — that’d be a hell of a start. By the time I plugged in my laptop and loaded up the presentation, the class had quieted down. I thought I was ready. Maybe some others thought I was too. I looked out at the class, noting that Mr. Richard had assumed my seat in order to get a better view of the slides. And of my hopefully-not-a-failure presentation as a whole. After a deep breath, I sprung into action. “Hello everyone! Today, I’m going to present on the Mongols. The Mongols,” I clicked the “next” button on my presentation remote, “were a pastoral society that lived north of present-day China. Back then, “China” was ruled by the Western Liao dynasty from 1124 onwards.” “Before we get to the almighty Genghis Khan, I’d like to cover the Mongols as a people. I gulped. “Pastoral societies were unique because, compared to agricultural societies, they were smaller, and didn’t have to produce as much food to keep everybody alive.” I glanced to the slides. Going OK so far. “Pastoral societies were also tribal. People lived with relatives, and formed clans, or tribes, which were ruled by a singular leader.” I paused. “Now for the coolest part about Mongols — how they fought.” A horse popped up on the screen. “Mongols were skilled fighters, and fought almost entirely on horseback. They could outrun entire armies, and keep fighting at the same speed. They could fire arrows, fire fire arrows, and swing maces. Yes, you heard that right — Mongols used arrows that were loaded with gunpowder, which burned enemies that were hit by them. Hurts just a little bit more than a normal one.” The class chuckled a little. I was doing it! This is going great! I clicked to the next slide. “They sieged empires across Asia, including three dynasties in China — Western Xia, Jin, and Song, most of India, present-day Iran, Iraq, and Syria, and while they were at it, Poland, Hungary, Turkey, and Bulgaria.” I paused, turning to gesture at the list of countries on the screen. “They were mad-men!” “And women too,” I added, advancing the slide again. “Unlike the agricultural societies of the time, and most of eastern Asia, Mongol women were treated with equal or even higher respect.” On the presentation went, detailing the life of Genghis Khan, multiple invasions of China — enough to make any history buff squeal. I think it went on for thirty five minutes, which was well over the ten minute minimum. I felt good about this. I felt like I got a— “C.” The applause from the class died down, just like my hopes for doing well. Did he misspeak? I looked at Mr. Richard incredulously. “I-I’m sorry?” He glared at me from my seat. “You get a C.” I stared back in silence. The class was equally at a loss for words. Granted, I wasn’t the best student in the class, but me, and everyone else, didn’t expect that low of a grade. In the pause, he shuffled his papers. “Your sources here only managed to cover Mongolian history up to the end of the 20th century. Even then, you missed out on critical events.” Mr. Richard looked back down at his notes. “What about the effect of the Chinese Civil War on Mongolia? What about the Cultural Revolution? The creation of the Inner Mongolian People’s Party? The legacy of Ulanhu?” He stopped. “I’m sorry sir, but the rubric said—” “But the rubric said, the history of the Mongols.” “And I covered their history. For almost the entire class period! Any longer and—” “And what, you’ll give me the excuse there wasn’t enough time to cover ‘seven hundred years of history’? Pathetic,” he spit out. “Absolutely pathetic. I expected more from you lot, but I was dissapointed yet again.” With a frown, my anger began to boil, my face getting red from the heat of my emotion. “What is your PROBLEM?” I snapped. I had always been composed previously, but in the heat of the moment, I finally couldn’t take Mr. Richard’s constant perfectionist complex. “I stayed up till 3 in the fucking morning, pouring over my work till it’s perfect, and what do I get? A FUCKING C!” The rage in my voice was clearly audible, judging on how my voice cracked and was a higher octave than it was previously. “So much work, I went PERFECTLY within the guidelines, and I get a C.” Tears stung at my eyes, and with my voice more monotone than expressive, as the tears ran down my face… “I hate you. You’re not a teacher; you’re just an asshole.” The bell rang out, and everyone slowly got up. Mr. Richard was opening his mouth, to probably berate me, but I was way ahead of him. I unplugged my laptop, and brought it over to my bag. I shoved it in and swung it around my shoulder, and dashed out of the room. I ran to my locker, opening the door to my items as quick as possible, stuffing them into my backpack, a plain, average backpack, with the color of black. I slung it around my shoulder, on top of my laptop bag, and made my way to the entrance of the school. I ran out as quick as possible, the tears still stinging my eyes. I was happy I lived close to the school in this moment, and sprinted home. My legs and chest burned when I finally arrived at my doorstep. I threw open the door and ran past the kitchen, up the stairs, and into my room. My bag hit the floor as I fell onto the bed, staining the covers with my tears. It had been years since I cried so hard. Everyone clapped. Everyone wanted me to succeed, and all I did was fail. What was I worth at this point? Not even Mr. Richard could give me hope, give me happiness, give me a reason to try, even against all odds — when the rest of the class wanted me to. They hated me. They honestly did. I was obnoxious, annoying, edgy… any multitude of insults barraged me every day of the week. Some of them weren’t meant for me to hear, others were thrust in my face. I held myself back as best I could, but even if I slipped, it was miles worse than what they’d say to me. What they’d do to me. A knock on my door. “Alex? Dinner’s downstairs. Come down whenever you’re ready.” “O-ok.” She knows. I know she knows. There’s somethings you can’t hide from a mother. I’ve hid a lot of who I am, but the worst always gets through. Especially when I’m as vulnerable as this. I groaned and at up, wiping the tears off of my face. Might as well eat. Down the stairs I headed. The smell of pan-seared steak and potatoes hit my nose. It’ll be a good dinner at least. As I rounded the corner, I noticed my mom at the fridge. And no dad. “Hey Alex,” she said flatly. My mom sounded annoyed. Probably at my dad’s absence, again. “Dad not home?” She sighed. “No, he’s not. He stopped for lunch but left just as quick.” I sat down. “Sorry to hear that.” The fridge door closed shut, and my mom brought a bowl of salad to the table. We both sat for a moment, letting the weight of our days settle on our backs. My mom looked up at me, about to ask me something before her breath caught at the sight of my dried tears. “Alex? Are you alright?” I didn’t answer immediately, taking the chance to begin eating my steak. “Was it the presentation?” I set my utensils down, nodding. ‘It wasn’t the class. It was M-Mr...” Then the tears came again. I don’t consider myself to be much of a weeper, but I just couldn’t hide it. Especially in front of my mom. The guilt from this morning only compounded the sadness, and I slumped onto the table, done with myself. Done with everything. I sobbed. I heard the chair next to me scoot back and felt a hand on my back. A consolidating, warm hand. “Shh, it’s alright. Everything’s alright,” she soothed. I stayed like that, crying into my dinner for what felt like ten minutes. Might’ve been an hour for all I care. Fucking Mr. Richard. I hate him. I hate him. “I h-hate him”, I repeated. “I hate h-him! I... hate him.” “Hate who?” my mom asked. “M-Mr. Rich-chard. H-he gave me a C when they clapped….” Pathetic. Absolutely pathetic. “Th-they all wanted me to do well, for once!” You get a C. “A-and he gives me a C.” I looked up at her, my face wet and red. “What’s wwrong with me if I-I-I c-can’t even get h-him to—” My mom smiled at me with a determined glimmer in her eyes. “There’s nothingwrong with you, Alex. We all have faults, but he had no right to be as angry as he did. Especially since you put so much effort.” I rested my head on the side of my arm, facing her, looking up into her eyes. “T-Thanks Mom. I— ” my breath hitched.  “I l-love you, and I always will. No matter where or when, I will never forget you. I love you, Mom.” She leaned in and embraced me. “I love you too, Alex.” They stayed like that for a few moments. That… felt like closure, he thought, pulling away from the hug. Closure to a problem I have had had for quite some time. Alex stepped away from the table and walked up the spiral staircase, a content smile on his face. He felt a slight pain similar to the headache he felt yesterday, before the pain grew far more intense. He couldn’t stand up straight. In a matter of moments, his vision darked, turned black, and he fell to the floor unconscious.