The Day That Was Meant To Go Wrong

You know how bad days on American sitcoms go: the alarm doesn’t go off, you pick up the wrong lunch in a hurry, you miss the school bus, you smell because you just walked in the muddy rain (with no coat on because you forgot it) and then when you finally arrive at school (late), you find that you have forgot your gym kit so you have to wear the tight one’s in the lost gym kit box, then come out to find that you’re playing basketball (a game you absolutely hate) infront of the whole school and the gorgeous cheerleaders.

This could only happen in American sitcoms. Or so I thought.

Although it doesn’t exactly go the same way as I have just described, it certainly measures up. My name is Charles Alcott, but please don’t call me Charles. Charlie is how I like to be called. Anyway, the day was Friday 22nd June. The year, 2003.
The alarm went off twenty minutes late, even though I put new batteries in the night before. As I began to walk downstairs I was faced with a piercing scream from my mother, "Bring your washing down!!!"
"Ye-es mo-hom," I tried to say through yawning.
"And all your dirty cups and plates. I’m telling you, it’s a pig-sty in that room, I can hardly get in to your room. And open your window it bloody stinks in there!" she ranted, stopping every now and then to sip her tea. So I went back into my room and collected my shirt and trousers from yesterday, and my ONE cup and brought them to the landing. It was then that I was faced with the mornings first big problem. My father. My ‘Old man’. A big, tall empowering man with a one face look of anger. I knew exactly what was coming.
"That room is an absolute disgrace. You clean it perfectly but the day after it’s just a tip again. When you get home from school tonight your not going out until that room is absolutely spotless!" he said.
Why don’t parents understand that we want to keep it tidy, it’s just that when we put something on the floor we are too busy or too tired to pick it back up. Surely, life for them when they were young couldn’t have been that bad.
"When I was a kid I had to share a room with three of my brothers. We all had stuff, and there was nowhere to put it. But if we ever had as much as a spot on the floor we’d all get no supper, and be in bed at four o’ clock. Do you want that to happen to you?"
"No dad, I promise I’ll do it tonight for definite." How easy to make that sound believable. We teenagers are masters at it.
"Good. And as soon as you get home tonight I want you to give your report to your mom and don’t open it before hand…"
Oh shit!! Reports! Good results (if you ever got them) meant a tenner, bad results meant something terrible!! A million things whizzed through my head at once. How do I doctor the bad reports? I wonder if Miss Dickleby has really put the predicted grade she said she would? I wonder what the punishment this year is? I wonder how Kate has done? Ah! Kate, someone to put my mind at ease. The girl of my dreams. My first love. Started going out two years ago last month. She’s going to have done great. She’s a smart and beautiful girl. A boy couldn’t ask for more.
"……do you hear me?!" Dad finally finished.
I shook myself. "Yes Dad."
"Well listen properly then." he said. "Come on, hurry up. It’s ten past eight."
Ten past eight. I had twenty minutes left to get ready and leave for school. So I dumped my stuff back inside my room and went into the bathroom. Turned the shower on. No water.
"Mom!"
"What!"
"Showers broke!"
" I know!" Oh great. Thanks for telling me! Surviving on washing myself with every inch of the tap water, I managed to make myself clean enough for the day’s pressures. By the time I had finished sorting myself out I had five minutes before leaving.
"When’s the shower going to be fixed, Mom?"
" I don’t know."
" Hopefully it’ll be done to day because I’ve got a big shift tonight at work."
"What do I look like a plumber? If you want it fixed do it yourself!"
Oh yeah, I’ve got the experience. Just give me the wrench and I’ll be away. What is a wrench, anyway? Why do the parents always have to be in a mood in the morning? You should be happy in the morning. But I do find that I am the only one that thinks that.
Two minutes left.
No time for breakfast (again). No wonder I was thin. Quick drink and I’m off. No pop. Great. No time for tea or coffee either. Great. "Mom can I have some money to get some breakfast, please?" I asked.
"Want! Want! Want! That’s all you kids do these days. When I was your age, I had a six hundred paper a week paper round, and that only paid a tuppence," My God how old is my mom?! "Which is equivalent to two pounds fifty these days. You should do one. The exercise will do you good. Better than that chicken job you’ve got!" she said.
"Mom," now it was time for one of my rants, "have you seen the state of the streets and the type of people that hang around on them. All they see is a fluorescent bag and a chance to set fire to it, it’s contents and the person carrying it!! And anyway, how can you say that I need the exercise?! I’m wafer thin because of the lack of nutrition of a morning! And besides, the ‘chicken job’ pays o.k, it’s just that there are so many birthdays in this family!" I really had done it now.
"Don’t take that tone with me young man. You’re not too old for a slap. If I’d have spoken to my mom like that I’d have got a clip round the –" I left her to carry on. I picked up my bag and walked out. As soon as I got out of the door, there infront of me was the second problem. The postman. Don’t get me wrong, Pat’s o.k, it’s just the stuff that he brings: dental appointments, bills, junk mail, more bills, late birthday cards (with no money!), and not forgetting bills. And today being Friday meant bills day. I had to escape being caught by my Dad with some bill I was responsible for.
"Alright, Pat?" I asked, making him give way through the gate. "What you got for us today, dare I ask." He reached into his bag. Here it comes. D-Day. He pulled out a huge wad rapped in elastic bands. Oh no.
"Bills by the looks of it. Oh, and some Somerfield offers." He answered.
"W-What bills?" I asked, trying not to sound nervous but failing.
"Oh I don’t know. Gas, telephone."
"NO! Telephone!" I screamed.
"What about it?" Pat asked curiously.
"Oh, nothing. No matter. Have a good day." I ran as fast as I could. Straight to my mate Joe’s house, then to my mate Frank’s house, then off to school. I had to slow down in the end though. My energy levels were low due to insufficient nutrition levels that morning. It was then that I explained to my friends that I wasn’t boff who was running to school to get extra homework before school started, but the fact that I was on the phone to Kate for nearly two hours the month before when my parents were away on holiday.
"So?" my mate Frank said.
"So? SO! Just because you’ve got a Dad who will let you do near enough anything, it doesn’t apply to all of us!" I screamed.
"Yeah, but," Joe began, " you can tell him straight: at least it wasn’t phone sex." I had known Joe to come out with some stupid things before, like the time we were walking through town past a travel shop and he said ‘Shall we go in, order a holiday then just not go!’ but this was unreal.
"Yeah, that’s really going to calm him down." The next problem. Rain, and lots of it. And because of the usual morning rush I had forgotten it and yet again was going to get soaked.
As my shoes sludged when I walked into form late, I was yet again gawped at by the class. I really thought they would be used to my entrances by now. Sadly not. But there she was. Glowing above the rest of the gawping faces was Kate. But there was something not right. She was glowing, but not smiling. Not gawping, but not smiling either. So, upholding my duty as boyfriend I squeaked over to her. "Raining out, Charlie?" asked Dickhead Daniel. I ignored him.
Dropping my wet blazer and bag to the floor I asked her, "What’s up?" She turned her back on me. Her friends made a semi-circle around her like bees protecting the Queen.
Then the evil bitch Emily looked at me with them cold, ugly eyes and said in her Satanic voice, "She doesn’t want to speak to you. Go away."
"What have I done wrong? Kate?" I was getting worried and anxious.
"Didn’t you hear me? She doesn’t want to talk to you, now go away." Said Emily, standing up and poking me in the chest with the last three words.
"Listen you chain smoking Satan worshipper, I think she can speak for herself. And seen as she’s my girlfriend and not yours, just sit your lard arse down and let me speak to her." Something I’d always wanted to say. It felt much better. I felt much better. Until Kate turned around and looked at me. Her eyes didn’t have that look that they usually do. They were different.
"Just go away, Charles. Please." She said. Something was definitely wrong. She’d called me Charles. As the bell rang she shot straight up, her friends guarding her all the time as if I was some great threat. What was wrong?

I skipped through the mornings lessons pretty untouched by bad luck, except for when I was picked to answer a question I hadn’t got a clue what the answer was. As soon as the bell rang for break I was out. I needed to know what was going on with Kate. My mate Richard said that it was all down to ‘Female hormones’. Whatever they are. He said not to worry so I didn’t as much. He knows quite a bit about stuff. He must read a lot of books.
So as I arrived at the normal area that all of mine and her friends hang out, I noticed that she was standing in the middle of her usual group with her mobile phone in her hand, smiling. Thank god! But then a thought flashed into my mind: Why say thank God? You haven’t sent her any messages. Have you? So I approached her. That’s when she hid the phone and all her friends were behind, back to back, whistling. "Feeling better now?" I asked, not sarcastically.
The smile, the happiness I had seen in her while she had her phone infront of her had gone. "Yeah, fine thanks. Listen, I’ve got to go to see Mrs-" No. she wasn’t going to go without telling me why she was being like this.
As she turned her back I said: "Kate, please. Tell me what’s wrong. What have I done?" I asked anxiously.
Emily stepped up to the plate. "She doesn’t want to speak. Move." That was it. The days frustration was about to be unleashed.
"Listen pug face. The canteen’s open. So why don’t you and your horrible, fat gut go and troff on down!" That shut her up. "Kate, please tell me what’s wrong!" Then it happened, all at once.
Shouting, as loud as she could it seemed, she said, "I don’t want to be with you anymore. I-I’ve met someone else!" The entire area of that playground stood still. So did I. "I’m sorry." She said. She took the necklace off that I bought her for our two year anniversary, and chucked it at me. It hit my chest, and in slow motion, it slid down and fell to the ground. I could see a tear in her eye. Why? Don’t try and make yourself look like the innocent one. Richard, and the rest of my mates came over and patted my shoulder. At least I had friends when I needed them. All the images came to me of what this ‘new person’ looked like. Just how ‘new’ was he? The bell woke me out of the thought. I couldn’t believe it. Could this day possibly get any worse?
I really shouldn’t have said that.
As the rest of the lessons flew by it came to The Gathering. All members of the year come together in the hall to collect their year reports. And just my luck they sat our form in alphabetical order. Me, Charlie Alcott, her, Kate Aldridge. Great. The whole afternoon was quiet. Me and her anyway. This was when Emily got her revenge. She came up from behind us and asked, "So just how good is this new boyfriend, then?" Bitch. No respect for anyone’s feelings. Huh. To my surprise, Kate was actually nice about the whole situation concerning my feelings.
"Don’t be a bitch, Em." Yes! Go Kate!
"Fine, but I bet he’s better than this asswipe!" She ranted as she sat back down. That was grand, coming from her.
As my report was passed to me by Kate I opened it. I usually had a slight hesitation when opening my report but it couldn’t come close to what had happened. I opened it, despite my Dad saying not to. English, predicted B. Maths, C. Science, B. and the rest were good as well. Even though I was proud of myself, I just couldn’t smile. I put the results back in the envelope and put them in my bag.
"So how did you do then?" Kate asked in a normal tone of voice as if nothing at all had happened. I didn’t answer her. "Look, I’m not going to avoid you all the time now. Stop being childish and let’s get on as friends!"
"Get on like nothings happened! That’s what you expect me to do? I love you Kate, and you just do this to me?! Yeah I can do that, good. Right, well, how are you doing mate? Tell me about your new boyfriend. Do I know him?" I stormed.
"Stop making a scene!" she shouted.
"I’m allowed to aren’t I? You did, so now it’s my turn. Does he work at a chicken place like I used to?!"
"You quit the Rooster Roaster?" she asked, paying attention to me for the first time that day.
"Yes I have. Why?" I said, lying.
"No reason. And if you really want to know his name is Jerry. That’s all I’m saying." She turned away. Now it was her who was being childish. Then Emily popped her head back up.
"And he’s 18, loaded, and drives a Peugeot 307." It was confirmed. Emily was the most evil, living, large, grotesque, doughnut-eating, pig-smelling troff head in the world.
"Em! Well done! You’ve now made this the worst day ever!" Kate said. What the hell was she talking about? At least she had someone!
"What could you possibly have going wrong for you today? You’ve got someone. You’ve got good results. Me, I’ve got no-one. Nothing."
"Charlie, I’m sorry, I really am." She pleaded.
"Don’t. Just don’t." I stormed off. I couldn’t believe what was happening to me. As the bell rang I was already outside the gates, even though two teachers had seen me. I got home and no-one was in. Thank the Lord. I sat down for about an hour and just thought about all the memories I had of me and Kate. When we first got together, our first time at the cinema, Christmas at each other’s house. All the good memories. And not one bad. Until now, of course. I went into my room after and, like one on the soaps, placed the picture of me and her flat down so didn’t have to look at it while I got ready for work.

The Rooster Roaster. Not a popular name among vegetarians and campaigners for animal rights. Still, it paid good money for me to ask hungry large people like Emily what they wanted. I worked in the back for the first hour or so, teaching the new kid, Graham, how to fry the chips without turning them into charcoal. When he had finally mastered that he went to learn on the till while I carried on with the chips, sometimes putting too much salt in because of thinking of Kate. When it had come toward closing time we only had small business type customers who popped in for a greasy meal after a long conference. It was just me and another kid who’s name I don’t know because he constantly loses his tag in the fryer. I had my back to the till when I heard a snotty, arrogant, ‘I’m really hard’ boyish/manish voice shout to me, "Oi, Rooster, are you going to serve me or not?" The Customer Care code tells us not to lash out at customers so I kept my calm. But as I turned round and saw who was stood there that page was ripped right out of the manual. It was Kate and ‘Jerry’. He had his arm right round her neck, holding her like a possession. Kate’s mouth dropped as she saw me, but she soon closed it as she noticed Jerry was looking at her.
"Yes, sir?" I said, as polite as I possibly could.
"Yeah, I want chicken."
Prat.
"What type of chicken. It comes in all different varieties."
"Alright. I want chicken strips and fries and coleslaw and beans and coke-" I cut him off. I just couldn’t resist.
"And what?"
Kate sniggered and this didn’t please ‘Jerry’. "You takin’ the piss out of me, son?" He leant across the front counter. My blood was boiling.
"No. And can you move yourself away from me please, sir, or I will call security." I was sounding calm but seething inside.
"Go on then, call security." He said, pulling his arms back in that ‘Go Ahead’ way.
"We don’t want any trouble. Let’s go, Jerry." Kate said. But this wasn’t stopping Jerry.
"No. Come on, call security." This was too much.
"SECURITY!" I shouted, then stepped out from behind the counter and pinned a security badge to my uniform.
"Can you please leave the premises, sir." I stepped right up to his face. I knew this was the end for me at Rooster Roaster.
"No!" Then he took a swing at me. It seemed to be in slow motion because I ducked as if it was easy as pie, and hit him in the stomach. I hit him softly on his back and then pushed him into the seats. This was when the kid came out of the office and shoved me out of the way. He placed Jerry on a chair and attended to his wounds. Yeah, wounds! Jerry must have wanted to call the police because they arrived along with my boss. I was sacked instantly and was told by the police I had to go to a juvenile court.
"Fine." I said as I watched Jerry walk out with Kate, escorted by a police officer. She turned around, looked at me with a look I can’t understand still, turned back and went off. It was eleven o’ clock by the time I got home and although I had a brilliant report it didn’t help with what I was faced with from my parents. I listened to the barrage of moans and punishments then made my way to my room. I lay on my bed. I couldn’t think straight. The only thing I could think of was, "Do you see what love does to you!"