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Grade Level of this post: 6
OOC: Oooh, I see how you could mistake it for that Nevrmore~ :3 lol.
Frett rolled over in his sleep, moaning when he heard the alarm clock's annoying beeping in his ears. He had already pushed the sleep button 3 times, and was about to do it a 5th time-- but then he realized how late it must have been, and shot upright in a sitting position. He threw his legs over the side of the bed and yanked the alarm clock off of the night stand. His eyes widened when he saw the letters 7 and 40 blinking in digital red numbers. Aw CRAP! He was going to be late-- AGAIN!
Frett launched himself out of bed, into the hall, and flung himself in the bathroom; which was surprisingly free for the taking. He whipped off his jeans, which he hadn't bothered to change out of from the previous day before he went to bed, and jumped in the shower. The water was freezing cold, but that didn't seem to bother him much as he hurredly scrubbed shampoo into his hair, a giant pile of foam forming on top of his head.
He rinsed his hair out, and came rushing out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist. Once in his bedroom he started flinging clothes around, sniffing each shirt and pair of pants untill he found an outfit that smelled clean enough to wear. He quickly changed into a dark pair of semi-baggy jeans and one of his usual well-fit black shortsleeved shirts, and topped it off with a filthy pair of hightop converse that looked like someone had walked through the fiery pits of hell and back in. Grabbing his backpack he rushed down the stairs. Just as he reached the bottom fo the staircase, he heard his older brother Garrett yell from the bathroom,
"FRETT, YOU LITTLE PUNK! YOU LEFT YOUR NASTY OLD CLOTHES IN THE BATHROOM AGAIN!!"
Frett rolled his eyes and didn't even bother responding as he kicked the front door open and headed outside across the muddy front yard towards his "hang-out Shack". He pulled the rusty doors apart, letting the early morning rays of sunshine fill the junky metal shack up. Once the doors were open, a beautifully restored 1984 harley was visible, it's black paint shining brilliantly in the sunlight. Frett stared at his masterpiece, a wide toothy grin plastered on his tan face as he took in the beauty.
He waltzed into the shack, grabbing his cherry red helmet with black stripes off the old dirty wooden shelf and placing it over his head. He buckled the straps of his helmet as he swung his right leg over the side of the bike and lowered himself onto the smooth leather seat. He smiled as he flicked the key to the right, starting the motor up with a roar. The bike rattled beneath him, and once it was warmed up enough, he reached for the handlebars and punched the gas, squealing his way out of the metal shack and into the dirt driveway.
The whole way to school he drove ten miles per hour over the speed limit, not wanting to be late again and get yelled at by the principal. Glancing at the time on his wristwatch, he jerked the handle down even harder, really speeding up this time. He just hoped the sheriff wasn't around to catch him, that would suck big time...then he would be in trouble with the police station, school, and not to mention hsi father. Ugh, what a nightmare that would be.
But the slight fear of getting pulled over didn't make Frett slow down, not one bit. If anything he just continued to accelerate his speed to dangerous levels his father would kill him for if he knew how fast he liked to go. Well, at least his hair would be mostly dry by the time he got to school, that was one good thing. He laughed to himself, and finally started to slow down as the school came into view. Everyone was just starting to pour into the front doors. Good. He still had time.
Pulling into the school parking lot, Frett found a spot that war far away from the front doors, not wanting anyone to scratch up his ride. He turned the engine off and removed himself from the seat. Taking his helmet off and shaking his hair out, he started to walk towards the school. This time he was actually on time, thanks to his speeding.
"I made it..." he huffed, stuffing his keys into his pocket and placing his helmet under his arm as he walked, soon making it to the front of the school. A group of people hanging about the flagpole paused from their jabbering when Frett came into view, and flocked over to him, each one greeting him, and a few slugging him in the arm as a friendly hello. He never much liked all the attention...but whatever, as long as they didn't bug him too much, he was okay with it. Plus, he got to copy homework sometimes. That was a pretty cool thing about being popular, or more like the only cool thing.