FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU-

[Cactus]

((ROSS MILLER MEMORIES START))

12:00

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12:00

"OH SHIT! SHIT. FUUUUUCK!"

Ross Miller jumped out of bed with a start, his ordinarily clouded mind suddenly very, very aware that the time flashing on his bedside clock was likely not the actual time of day. Stumbling on a wayward sweatshirt, he grabbed his Android Smartphone off the bedside table and clicked the side button.

Dead.

Of course. Fuck, fuck, FUCK.

In a state of near-panic, Ross wiped the sleep away from his eyes, trying to rub the crusty residue off his fingers as he did so. This was bad - this was very, very bad. While not a morning person at the best of times, Ross wouldn't have minded oversleeping were this a weekend, or any other school day. Punctuality wasn't his strong suit and it wasn't unusual for him to stroll in a few minutes after everyone else, claiming "fashionable" lateness to his usually unimpressed teachers.

But today was different.

Today was picture day. Who the hell missed picture day?

As it stood, in the 2017-2018 school year, that person would be Ross Miller.

Grabbing yesterday's jeans off the floor of his room, Ross tried to jump into them, struggling with the left leg as he hopped around his dark bedroom, trying to figure out where he could obtain a clean shirt from. The dresser seemed like a great place to start, so he yanked one of the black drawers open and rifled through it as he pulled the jeans up, pausing to button and zip them up before pulling out a black t-shirt from the drawer. It was a loose-fitting t-shirt with the Ghostbusters logo on it, but it was clean.

"You'll do." Ross muttered to himself as he quickly pulled it down over his head, sighing as he felt the fabric slide over his back. Pausing once more to glance at himself in the mirror on his wall, he clapped himself on the belly, and frowned. Had he put on more weight? He didn't feel any heavier, but... goddammit. What he wouldn't give to have the ability to snap his fingers and drop ten pounds. Looking up, Ross rain his hand through his hair until it looked somewhat presentable. Turning away from the mirror, Ross leaned down and grabbed the sweatshirt that he'd tripped over upon waking up. It was a grey hooded sweatshirt with yellow trim on the edges, and aside from a bit of dust from being on the floor, it seemed to be clean enough, with no objectionable stains to be found. Giving it a quick shake, he slipped it on over his shirt. No longer in a state of panic but now feeling annoyed with himself for sleeping in yet again, he made a quick stop to grab a pair of socks and slip them on, before yanking the door to his room open and quickly stepping into the upstairs hallway of his house.

Grimacing as the sunlight hit his eyes, Ross let his eyes adjust before shooting the clock on the wall a click look. Crap. It was around 11:30am, so that was almost three hours late?

"Sheeeeeeeeeit."

Jumping into the washroom, Ross made quick work of brushing his teeth and applying deodorant under his arms. While he may have jumped out of bed literally moments earlier, he was all about not going to school smelling like a dirtbag, lateness be damned. Before he left the washroom he gave himself a quick spray of his Swiss Army cologne just for the sake of it.

"Shit, shit, shit."

As he bounded down the stairs towards the main hallway, Ross was thankful that both of his parents worked full-time. Were they aware of how many times this particular scenario played out, they'd have his head. His father would string him up outside of their house, Game of Thrones style, as a warning to anyone who walked by: lateness doesn't pay.

Ripping open the closet, Ross grabbed his dark blue windbreaker jacket out of the closet and slipped it on, content as he felt his keys and wallet still in the pocket, where he'd left them the day before. Good. Along with his dead cellphone, he had everything he needed to leave the house, and leave it quickly. Yanking his boots out of the closet, Ross took a quick seat on the second-last stair, and tied them up with as much fervour as he could muster. He couldn't remember off-hand when his particular photos were supposed to be taken, but usually the school started with either the lower grades or the higher grades.

"Please be the juniors, please be the juniors..."

Shoes tied, Ross jumped to his feet. This whole ordeal had been a shade under ten minutes, but he still felt like he was wasting time. His whole body was running on adrenaline, and as far as he was concerned, he was good to go. Yanking open the front door, he gauged it. If he ran, the school would be another ten or fifteen minutes (with breaks, because Ross knew that he likely couldn't sprint the whole thing), but a cab would cost way too much.

Fuck it. He'd missed gym class already anyhow.

Closing and locking the door behind him, Ross Miller took off running down the block, leaving his house behind him, secure in the knowledge that he had everything he'd need to at least make it through a bit of picture day. He hoped that the whole thing would be a bit of a clusterfuck, and that if he'd missed the senior photos, he'd at least be able to sneak in to the back of one of the other lines. Maybe on the way home, he'd stop at the Best Buy and pick up a new alarm clock: this was getting silly, this couldn't keep happening. As he rounded the block away from his house, he felt pleased with himself. Sleep-in aside, he'd covered all of his bases. He'd thought of everything.

Everything, that was, except for his knapsack, still sitting beside the front door and containing all of his textbooks and schoolwork.

((Ross Miller continued in Ew, adulting.))