I Prefer Friday

• Florence Barnett, Grade 5
• Short Story
• 2016

I wake up. It’s Monday. Not another spelling test. I hate it how the books tell you that you should look forward to Mondays because it’s the start of a fresh new week. That’s not what I think. To me, Mondays are just the bottom of a deep, dark pit, with a damp, muddy floor. I prefer Friday.
I get out of my bed and begin to get dressed for school. I put on my new shirt when I realise, my favourite trousers are on the washing line downstairs. I race down the stairs, out the back door, snatch my trousers off the line and run back upstairs where I’m safe and sound. I sigh.
I’m still breathing heavily when I walk back downstairs for breakfast, crossing my fingers that the rest of the day will go as I had planned. Well, I AM WRONG.
As I am pouring the milk in my Cheerios, my brother Clark is laughing at his phone. “Did you know Adrian, you don’t look very attractive in your undies?” my evil brother exclaims. He had recorded me on his iPhone, in my undies. But how? It doesn’t matter anymore because he just sent it to everyone that I know. I snatch his phone off him and throw it at his head. Clark falls off his chair. I hope Mum didn’t hear the bang. Looks like she did. Here she comes.
“Oh no! Clark, are you okay?” Clark starts muffling words but Mum and I can’t understand him. Mum calls the ambulance. They come and take him to hospital. As the siren sound fades away, Dad yells at me, “Get in the car or you’ll be late for school!”
As we pull up at the drop off, I notice the smell of grape juice coming from my seat. I turn around and sure enough, the juice that Clark spilled on the seat yesterday has left a great, big stain on my favourite trousers. I do some quick thinking and attempt to tie my old, daggy jumper around my waist but the ends don’t meet at the front. Talk about old.
“Get out of the car Adrian, the cars behind me are beeping their horns,” my dad nags.
As I walk to the Science room, I can hear kids laughing at me. Now, there is this really mean kid in my year called Troy Marchman. He goes down the list and beats kids up, one by one. Soon it’ll be my turn. Sadly, Troy is in all of my classes. That makes it hard for me to avoid him. We start class. The first chemicals that we mix seem to be doing their job well until, splash! Troy tips a whole beaker of gooey, clear liquid straight down on me. My science teacher, Mr Kildon, favours Troy. That’s how I end up earning myself three days of detention.
The rest of the day is awful. I do know one thing though. I prefer Friday.