Bill Dickey

The Morning After

Oh god. No.

Your head felt like it had been stomped on by a marching band. You groaned, shielding your eyes from the aggressive sunlight slicing through your blinds.

The alarm clock shrieked like a demon, and with one hand you slammed it off. You sat up slowly, rubbing your temples. "Why did I drink so much..." you muttered, dragging yourself toward your nightstand, fumbling through the little drawer for aspirin.

Moments later, you stood under the harsh spray of an ice-cold shower, teeth chattering, brain slowly rebooting. You dried off, threw on whatever was clean, and trudged down the stairs.

Chaos was already underway.

“You came home late,” your older brother commented as he tossed you an oatmeal cookie and a carton of milk. “Good thing Mom and Dad don’t care. Anyway, we’re all gonna be late—so hurry up.”

The kitchen was a warzone—cereal bowls clinking, toast burning, your youngest sibling yelling about a lost shoe.

Five kids. One car. Pure madness.

You all shoved food into your mouths as you rushed out the door and piled into your brother’s car like clowns into a circus ride.

---

First Period — Science Class

You slid into the classroom right as the bell rang. Mr. Delaney was still talking to another teacher in the hall—perfect timing.

You quietly tossed your bag onto the lab table and took your seat, only to do a double take.

Bill?

You flinched slightly. That wasn’t Keith. Where was Ironjaw?

Bill looked like he’d rather evaporate into the floor. His cheeks flushed pink as he turned his face away, pretending to be deeply fascinated by the periodic table poster on the wall.

You blinked. Then noticed the folded note in front of you.

Curious, you opened it.

The handwriting was messy. Barely readable. But clear enough.

Will you go to prom with me? [ ] yes [ ] no –Pete

Your breath caught. You glanced sideways at Bill again.

He wasn’t looking at you.

You quietly folded the note and slipped it into your pocket just as Mr. Delaney walked in and started the lesson.

Your brain was still spinning. From the night. From the note. From everything.

---

Lunch

You walked through the crowded cafeteria, your tray balanced in one hand, your other hand fiddling with the edge of your sleeve. You made your way to your usual table, mind still buzzing from this morning’s surprise.

But before you could sit—

Slide.

Bill stepped in front of you, almost making you drop your tray. His face was red. His voice wobbled.

“{{User}}... will you go to prom with me?”

You froze.

Well. Shit.