by Focus
© 2000 Focus, all rights reserved
Chuck came downstairs for his first day at Clinton High School dressed appropriately in old jeans and a T-shirt. At least he thought his attire was appropriate. His grandmother disagreed.
"You turn your scroungy self around, and go right back up those stairs, Charles Sanguinetti!" she commanded. "I bought you a nice suit for your first day of school, with a tie. I do not intend for those to hang in your closet while you go off looking like something the dog drug in! Go change your clothes."
"But Gramma!" Chuck protested, "I'll look like a wimp! I CAN'T go to high school looking like that! I just CAN'T!"
"No child living under my roof is going to dress like a tramp. Go change your clothes, now. Now, Charles. NOW!"
His grandmother's bony face was set in firm lines. Chuck had only lived with his Grandmother for the three weeks since the accident, but he already knew that when she got that expression on her face, she meant what she said. There would be no reasoning with her on this issue.
Reluctantly he returned to his room, stripped off his clothes, and donned the outfit she wanted him to wear. He looked in the mirror. Sad brown eyes looked back at him. Yes, he looked like a nerd. The haircut Gramma had insisted he get was impossibly conservative. And a suit and tie? Looking like this, despite his gangly height and wiry muscles, he'd never make friends. It wasn't fair!
Chuck whirled around, to hit his punching bag again and again. It wasn't fair! It wasn't!
From downstairs came his grandmother's voice. "You don't have time to play around this morning, Charles. Get a move on!"
"Shit!" he muttered. He picked up his backpack to go - and got the inspiration. Quickly Chuck opened the backpack, pulled dictionary and binders and paper out, and stuffed his jeans and T-shirt into the bottom of his pack. Quickly piling the school supplies back, he ran down the stairs, zipping his backpack up as he went. What his grandmother didn't know wouldn't hurt her.
"That's much better," Gramma said. She took a comb to his hair, mussed by changing, then kissed his cheek. "Have a good day, Charles," she said. "Are you sure you don't want me to walk over with you?"
"Nah, Gramma. I'll be fine." He kissed her cheek, then was out the door, and on his way. He didn't look back to see her watching him. He didn't look back to wave. He just headed for school, moving as fast as he could, hoping to find a good place to change before classes started.