Chapter Text
"Atoms are the building blocks of matter. They are made up of protons, neutrons, and electrons. Protons have a positive charge, and neutrons have no charge. Together, they make up the nucleus, the center of an atom. Electrons have a negative charge and they..."
The teacher went on and on and on. Tommy was tired. It was the last period of the day, yet it felt like school would never end.
All of his classes were boring, but today they were even worse. He couldn't focus on anything. They were slow, and boring, and he didn't like it at all. So, he doodled. He doodled on his notes and assignments in all of his classes.
When the bell rang, he was the first one out of the classroom. He nearly ran out of the school and all the way home.
"I'm home," he told the emptiness of his house as he locked the door behind him.
He slowly made his way to his room, and threw his backpack at the foot of his bed. It had been almost eight hours in his binder, and he needed to take it off. Picking up the pace, he kicked off his shoes, and removed his sweating clothing and binder. A pair of mismatched pajamas soon replaced what he wore before.
Flopping down on his bed, Tommy fell asleep almost instantly.
---
Tommy didn't wake up until a little after 7pm. Had he missed dinner?
No, he did not. Checking his phone, there was a message from his mom that read:
Hi, sweetie. I have to work late tonight. You probably won't see me until tomorrow morning. There's leftover chicken in the fridge. We'll talk tomorrow. I love you.
Nothing unusual about that message. His mom worked late often, especially on Fridays, like that day.
Climbing out of bed, Tommy yawned. He walked to the bathroom and felt around for the light switch. Pushing the lever up, he squeezed his eyes shut and walked to the toilet to do his business.
His eyes were still shut when he went to the sink and started washing his hands. Slowly he opened them and blinked a couple times.
Then he blinked again.
And he blinked again.
Tommy breathed in and closed his eyes again.
"Nope. Nope. Not happening," he said out loud to himself. "This is a dream. Or, or a trick of the light."
Half of his hair couldn't be white, could it?
Once in the kitchen, he pulled out the leftover chicken and ate it cold.
He decided to go back to bed. His hair was not white. His hair was it's usual dark brown. He was just tired.
Just tired from another day at school and imagining things.