Chris yawned, rolling over beneath the crumpled white sheets. Beeping penetrated the heavy silence, and he dragged a hand down his face. He tried to turn his back to the repetitive whine, hoping that if he ignored it long enough it would fade away.

     He pressed his face into the pillows, lifting his sheets over his head as the beeping only got louder. He moaned in complaint, then felt a slight tug on his sleeve. The covers were ripped from his head, and the warm breath of his little sister washed over his face as she leaned in close to whisper in his ear.

      "Chris. Chris! Momma left you a note. Wake up," she tugged on his sleeve again, but he shrugged her off, turning his back with a grunt, "Chris," the girl whined, tilting her head back in frustration. Then she heard the familiar wheeze of brakes, and she dragged one of the satin curtains open. "It's the bus!"

       An incoherent complaint toppled from Chris's mouth as the rays of light fell across his face. Then her words swam into his groggy brain, and he cracked an eye open.

       He shot up straight into a sitting position, his eyes flying open wildly, "The bus!!"

        "Bye bye," his sister waved out of the window as the yellow bus chugged down the street, turning steadily around the corner.

         "Lily!" Chris flung himself from the bed, grabbing the note his mother had undoubtedly left on the nightstand, "Lily, why didn't you wake me up?!"

       Lily blinked slowly, "I did."

         "Mom's gone on a meeting and I have to take you to class early... this is a horrible day to sleep in!" Chris nearly panicked at he looked at the clock. He had thirty minutes before class started. "Lil, go get dressed. And grab yourself some cereal!"

       He ran into his closet, trying to find his school uniform. To his horror, it was missing. He dove onto his bed, rolling across it to peer underneath it. He pulled out his boots, hurling them across the room so they'd be ready when he changed. "Lily!! Have you seen my uniform?"

       "Mom hung it outside to dry on the line," Lily walked past the door, holding a plate loaded with chocolate cake covered in chocolate sauce. Chris opened her mouth to tell her that cake wasn't cereal, but he closed it with a snap. No time to scold her.

      He raced outside, tripping over their tiny gray cat as he practically fell out of the screen door. He cursed as the wet grass sent a chill up his spine, but stumbled towards the clothesline. He tried to avoid stepping in the mud so he wouldn't have to wash his feet before putting on his shoes.

      He made it to the clothesline, and he grabbed his white shirt and gray pants from the line. There were damp and cold to the touch, wet from the rain that had bathed them the night before. He bit back a moan and snatched his tie from the line as he hopped across the lawn back to the door. He made it inside and was attacked by brutal claws down his shin as the cat meowed impatiently.

       "Lily! Feed the cat!" Chris begged as he staggered towards her. She sucked on the edge of her fork, the plate of cake still in her hands. He watched in agony as she tilted the plate, allowing half of the sticky cake plop onto the floor.

        Chris clenched his hands spastically as he reached at her in exasperation. Then he forced aside his anger, racing into his room to change. He grabbed a brush, tearing it through his almond hair to slick it out of his eyes. His tie had gone missing, he realized, and he slid over the counter to reach the back door where he had last had it.

       The cat was curled on top of it, tiny claw marks joining the stripes on the moist tie. Chris let out a guttural noise of frustration, and tore the tie out from beneath the cat. Needless to say, it wasn't pleased by the gesture.

      Now covered in cat  scratches, Chris fell hard onto his bed as he tied the tie loosely around his neck. He couldn't find his socks in the drawer, so he pulled his boots on over bare feet.

      "Lily, you ready?" he called, trying to smooth back his hair the best he could as he hurled pencils and books into his backpack. He stuck his head out into the kitchen to see Lily attempting to pour chocolate milk into a glass, but she was just too short to peer over the counter properly. He watched in despair as chocolate milk spilled across the counter and dripped onto the tile.

       He heard a nasty retching sound and turned to see the cat throwing up cake onto the floor.

       "Lily, just get in the car," Chris said tightly, his fingers curling tightly around the counter and his knuckles turned white. Once she had meandered into the garage, he vanished back back into his room to find his report he had to turn in that day.

        He had spent hours on it, designing the story to fit around characters he had always had in his head. This writing class had been a good idea, even if it had been made by his mother. He had poured his heart and soul into the paper. It was precious to him. And of course, it was missing.

       Chris wanted to scream as he looked at the clock. He had fifteen minutes to make it to class.

        He rummaged frantically through his drawers, trying to find his red notebook. His wet clothes clung to his skin, making his skin cold and prickle uncomfortably. He could practically hear the time ticking down in his head.

       He burst into the garage, throwing open the door to the car, "Lily!!" He saw a gray tail sticking out of her backpack, and he ripped it from her arms, "You can't take the bloody cat to school!" He yanked out the cat, not bothering to set it down. He pitched it into the house, and it yowled in protest, "Sorry, Whiskers!"

        "We're late," Lily informed him.

        Chris ignored this, "Lily, have you seen my red notebook? The one with the story for class in it?"

        "You told me yesterday you were leaving it at school so you couldn't possibly forget it at home," Lily shrugged, removing her backpack from his hands, "Can we go now?"

        Chris recalled leaving the precious notebook in his locker, but he couldn't remember if he had removed it after that. But he didn't have time to continue his search here.

        He reached to his pocket for his car keys. They were gone. A curse threatened to leave his mouth, but he caught his sister's gaze and closed his mouth with a snap. He jerked on the handle to the front door, only to find it was locked. He swung through the open window, kicking his feet up as he poked his head beneath the steering wheel. It only took a moment to hot wire the car, and he slammed his foot onto the gas peddle.

       The car surged out of the garage and down the street. Chris spun the wheel wildly, and the car careened down the next street towards Lily's school. After practically pitching her out of the car at her destination, he floored it.

      He had barely gotten halfway down the street before he heard the whine of police sirens behind him. He looked down to check his speed. He was going fifty in a school zone. He reached quickly for his wallet to withdraw his driver's license, and he moaned. He had forgotten his wallet in his drawer. Now he was never going to get to school.

       Then he got an idea.

       Chris swerved the car wildly, screaming "Bees!! AH!!! THEY'RE STINGING ME!!"

       He pulled his car over into an empty field, getting out of the car running circles and swinging his hands through the air as if batting away invisible insects, "HELP ME!!"

         The police officer leapt out of the car, but hesitated to run forward, "I'm allergic to bee stings! H-here, drop on the ground and roll!"

       Chris dropped onto the ground, thrashing around wildly, "Go! Save yourself!"

       The police officer looked panicked, "Uh, do you need help?"

       "SAVE YOURSELF!!! AAAAAAGRHHHH!!!!"

       "O-okay, I'll be back to check on you, uh-" the police officer leapt into the car as Chris ran towards him, waving his arms and screaming like a maniac. Chris didn't stop screaming until the cop car vanished in the distance, and he dove into his car.

     There was a beep, and Chris glanced at the fuel monitor. Low and almost empty. Chris's voice was now hoarse from screaming, and his groan of pain made him sound like a dying whale.

     He closed the car door, pulling burrs from his shirt as he drove his car onward down the road towards his school. He had five minutes.

       A box drifted into view, sitting in front him on the road. Chris didn't want to ease around it and waste time, so he plowed through it. He heard the deep sound of a really thick balloon popping, and he glanced briefly into the rearview mirror to see railroad nails spill across the asphalt.

       His car veered wildly, and he poked his head out of the window to see his front left tire was full of the giant, rusty nails. He wanted to cry. Tires weren't cheap.

     He prayed his red notebook was in his locker. The way the day was going, someone had probably used it to fuel their fire, and he'd flunk out of the only class he'd enjoyed doing in high school.

       He drove in silence, each thump of his flat tire on the road making him want to scream. He massaged his face with one hand, moaning in frustration. What a horrible start to the day. He looked back to the road in time to see a puppy bounding in front of him.

     Chris screamed, slamming onto the brakes. Glass broke as the car lost its grip on the ground and flipped several times before landing right side up farther up the road. Shaking with the possibilities, Chris slowly turned his head back to see the fate of the golden puppy dog.

      It yipped, trotting towards him. He looked at the name on the blue collar. Max. And he recognized the phone number on the back as the number his best friend's number. Come to think of it, his best friend had a dog named Max.

     He pulled the dog into his lap as he sat down in the driver's seat. He floored it, and it was only a moment before he pulled to a crooked park in front of his school. Class had probably already started, and Chris slung his backpack over his shoulder, tucked the dog under his arm, and ran full speed towards the doors.

     He didn't bother to look back at the totaled car, knowing he'd have a mental breakdown for a decade at the thoughts of what his parents would do to him once they found out.

     He reached his locker, his wet shoes sliding across the pristine tile floor as he dialed in his locker number. He tried to open it with his one free hand, but a piece of pink bubblegum in the crack prevented him from opening it.

      Chris smashed his head into it repeatedly until the door dented and he could jerk it open. He could feel the huge, purple bruises forming on his forehead as he dug desperately through his locker. No sign of his red notebook.

     Now completely defeated, Chris trudged up the hallway with his bag under one arm and the squirming puppy under his other. He heard his teacher reading off the names of those in the class.

     "Lucy Robin?"

      "Here," a girl said through the door as Chris reached for the handle.

     "Kelly Russell," the teacher said.

     "Right here!"

     "Chris Stevens?"

     "Here!!" Chris kicked open the door, and all eyes went to him. He could imagine he looked a sight. Damp uniform covered in grass stains, a half-shredded tie hanging loosely around his neck, grass sticking up from wild brown hair, and mud coating his boots. His pants were torn at the knees from the cat, and his forehead was yellow and purple from bruises. He was breathing heavily and carried the puppy under one arm, his backpack covered in broken glass shards hanging from a bleeding hand.

       "Is that my dog?" A black haired boy called Gavin lifted his eyebrows.

     Chris dropped the dog on Gavin's desk with a groan, then turned to the startled teacher, "I'm sorry. I swear I wrote up the assignment, I put a lot of thought into it, it was amazing. But... I lost it. I thought it was in my locker, and—"

     "The red notebook?" Gavin spoke up.

      "Yeah," Chris nodded, "The really nice one with the spiral binding."

       "I thought you were gonna be a no show, so I turned it in for you. You were always going on about how precious it was to you," Gavin gestured to the teacher's desk where the red notebook sat on top of a thick pile of papers.

     Chris sank into the seat, relief flooding him as he rested his head on the desk, "Whew..."

       The teacher regarded him with an odd look, "Would you like to explain what happened to you, Mr. Stevens?"

      Chris lifted his head as he licked his dry lips. He shrugged lightly, his eyes sliding to the window where he could see his scraped, dented, and damaged car sitting in a pool of broken glass. He gave her a weary smile and said:

      "Car trouble."