Sick Little Games

During the whole two weeks of holidays, Alex had pretty much lounged around his room, getting sick of his mother's monotone nagging and emailing old friends from back across the pool.
Before he knew it, his whole three week holiday had gone and it was time for school yet again. 
No, he wasn't excited, as much as he faked for his mom and dad and was pressure into thinking it.
He'd had a good taste if how the school was that last Friday a while ago- that was pretty much his introduction day, in which he had nothing to lose, today he had everything to lose, including his dignity.

He now sat, half an hour to waste, legs crossed on the sofa, eating cereal and watching cartoons. He was nervous and doing all he could to take his mind off things.

It made him upset that people didn't see through the top grades and smart behavior; that all he'd ever really be was a nerd. Shame.

Finally his mother tottered through the living room, standing right upfront of the television. 
'Alex,' she nagged, as her son ducked his head in every single angle to catch the end of Tom and Jerry, 'I can't have you lounging around in a pair of boxers. Go get dressed and ready for school, you have half an hour!'

'I'm old enough, mom, I can manage time.' he muttered, rising from his morning haven and making his eat into the busy kitchen where his dad was rushing around, making business calls and such. He never had time for Alex. He had made himself busy, probably to take his mind of everything, he used to have time for both him and Daniel but now the elder had gone he cared little for younger son.

'Son,' he greeted, barely taking his eyes off the paper in his hands or his attention off the mobile shut between his shoulder and ear. 
'Dad,' Alex nodded back, throwing his pots in the sink carelessly and making his way back upstairs to get properly dressed.
He didn't exactly need to look good, but he wanted to make the slightest of efforts for his mom who cared enough to get him enrolled into a decent school instead of the shithouse one he was attending in England.

He pretty much threw on his black jeans, a pair of old green converse and the first flannel shirt he came across, galloped to the bathroom, brushed his teeth and flew back down stairs. He wasn't rushing for school. He was rushing for TV.

Yet, his mom still had more to say. 
'Alexander, aren't you going to brush your hair?' 

'No mom, I like it like this.' 
That was a lie, he hadn't even once taken in his reflection once. He had no idea how his hair was at the moment, but nonetheless he didn't care.

'Fine,' she huffed, sitting down next to her son on the couch, and looked him up and down. 'How are the scratches on your face doing, sweetie?' she cooed, laying a hand in his knee.

So he'd told her he tripped down the stairs. Only because he didn't want her worrying.

'They're okay, mommy.' he smiled.

'That's good.'

There was a few moments of nice quietness where only the television could be heard and Alex could to back to watching.

'Are you ready to go?' His mom asked, squeezing her hand in his knee.

'Yeah,' Alex grinned, trying out his acting skills- they seemed to be working. 'Let's go.'