For me, they usually mean the start of a week spent hiding from bullies and getting yelled at by teachers. It was really bad when I lived in New York and when I first moved to Ohio. Every Sunday night I would lie awake as late as possible hoping I could keep Monday morning from arriving . . . but it always did. Today, however, was the first Monday in my life that I actually wanted to go to school. Everything had gone great on Saturday with Trevor and Josie, but more importantly, I couldn’t wait for what might happen after school today. “I’ll be a little late this afternoon,” I finally announced, chewing a piece of pancake. I tried to sound as casual as possible. “Oh?” my mom asked. “Why is that?” “Well . . .” I paused. I was embarrassed to talk about it and pushed another piece of pancake through some syrup. I felt my family’s eyes on me, so I said it: “I’m going to ask Jessica if I can walk her home.”
