Thursday
by Desmond Kamas
Feb. 8th
Thursday dawns, bright and fresh.
The world changes again.
I'm not surprised; today is a Thursday. And something always changes.
The first time I recall it occurring was in second grade, where I asked my teacher why she had dyed her hair during recess. She hadn't, at least not to her and everyone else. But it was a Thursday, and something had changed and only I could tell.
It happens at 10:30. Black covers everything for a second, maybe less, and then it's over.
Most times it's inconsequential. Perhaps a teacher's or student's hair or race or name changes, sometimes to me, and it becomes normal. Except I still remember before the Thursday changes them.
Today is no different than any other. It happens at "brunch" (which is secretly the same as recess, but pretends to be more adult). I step from Pre-Calc into the hallway and walk out of the math building. It's November, and it's brisk. Altair and Sequoia are already there, and greet me.
"Hey, John!" says Altair, addressing me. I look around for a moment before realising it’s the start of brunch. I suppose that my name is John now.
I get my schedule out in case my classes have changed, and fortunately not. Schedule changes are annoying, especially when there's homework I didn't know to do.
Frederick arrives later (also calling me John) and we talk for the limited fifteen minutes granted to us. I notice Phillip isn't here, which is unfortunate, but perhaps he's in the library, or has been Thursday'd an illness. The bell rings, and I head to English.
The rest of the day goes smoothly, except for my name, which I have to remember to put on every paper now.
When I get home, my mom is home. (She says John when she greets me as well. This change is going to suck.) She asks how my day was, and I say it's good, then ask her, and she says it's good. I'm not sure why we ask when the answer's always the same, but I guess it's more of a greeting than an attempt to get legitimate information.
I do homework. Before long, my father's arrived at home. (Guess what my name is? Did you say John? YOU WIN!) My mother calls from the kitchen for me to come to dinner. I go.
We eat.
We read.
We sleep.
And Thursday is over.
Feb. 12th
Phillip still isn’t at school.
His cellphone doesn’t answer.
His email sends an automated response that it doesn’t exist.
Altair and Sequoia don’t understand when I ask about him.
It’s like he’s moved away and taken the memories with him, the roots of his existence pulled right out with his stem and leaves. The tree fell, and no one heard it.
What if this was the Thursday?
What if
he never
comes back?
It doesn’t make sense.
Feb. 13th
I visited Phillip’s house today.
I knew he wouldn’t answer, but it hurt when this elderly woman answered the door. She said she had lived there 54 years.
When I cried, she offered me milk and a piece of cake. I ran out of the house.
The house that should’ve been Phillip’s.
Feb. 15th
Another Thursday today.
Phillip didn’t come back.
Now I have a pet hamster. Joy.
Feb. 18th
The phone book is devoid of any Phillip Everett.
I checked the town records. No one named Phillip has existed since 1915, and that one is spelled “Philip.” Could the Thursday have put him back in time? Or did it take him out of existence? It could’ve changed his name to something else and transferred him elsewhere, or another time.
I’ll never see him again.
My name remains John. It only reminds me of the day my friend vanished.
I hate this world.
I hate this world.
I HATE IT.
Feb. 29th
Oh, look, it’s a day added to an arbitrary month because our time system is stupid!
Isn’t it convenient that this month just so happens to have five Thursdays? Isn’t that just so nice of them?
Guess what happened this Thursday? That’s right, no one cares!
Altair and Sequoia have stopped talking to me. They say I obsess too much over some “made-up loser” and of course the guidance counselor got involved, because I’m failing every class now, even the one I was magicked into, because I haven’t turned in a paper since... My parents seek counseling, but no one can help me because none of them can understand that I’m not lying.
Why don’t they believe me?
Why can’t they remember?
Why do I have to know?
What if Phillip never existed, and Thursday gave me his memory?
Take me, Thursday.
Take me away from this world.
Please.
by Desmond Kamas
Feb. 8th
Thursday dawns, bright and fresh.
The world changes again.
I'm not surprised; today is a Thursday. And something always changes.
The first time I recall it occurring was in second grade, where I asked my teacher why she had dyed her hair during recess. She hadn't, at least not to her and everyone else. But it was a Thursday, and something had changed and only I could tell.
It happens at 10:30. Black covers everything for a second, maybe less, and then it's over.
Most times it's inconsequential. Perhaps a teacher's or student's hair or race or name changes, sometimes to me, and it becomes normal. Except I still remember before the Thursday changes them.
Today is no different than any other. It happens at "brunch" (which is secretly the same as recess, but pretends to be more adult). I step from Pre-Calc into the hallway and walk out of the math building. It's November, and it's brisk. Altair and Sequoia are already there, and greet me.
"Hey, John!" says Altair, addressing me. I look around for a moment before realising it’s the start of brunch. I suppose that my name is John now.
I get my schedule out in case my classes have changed, and fortunately not. Schedule changes are annoying, especially when there's homework I didn't know to do.
Frederick arrives later (also calling me John) and we talk for the limited fifteen minutes granted to us. I notice Phillip isn't here, which is unfortunate, but perhaps he's in the library, or has been Thursday'd an illness. The bell rings, and I head to English.
The rest of the day goes smoothly, except for my name, which I have to remember to put on every paper now.
When I get home, my mom is home. (She says John when she greets me as well. This change is going to suck.) She asks how my day was, and I say it's good, then ask her, and she says it's good. I'm not sure why we ask when the answer's always the same, but I guess it's more of a greeting than an attempt to get legitimate information.
I do homework. Before long, my father's arrived at home. (Guess what my name is? Did you say John? YOU WIN!) My mother calls from the kitchen for me to come to dinner. I go.
We eat.
We read.
We sleep.
And Thursday is over.
Feb. 12th
Phillip still isn’t at school.
His cellphone doesn’t answer.
His email sends an automated response that it doesn’t exist.
Altair and Sequoia don’t understand when I ask about him.
It’s like he’s moved away and taken the memories with him, the roots of his existence pulled right out with his stem and leaves. The tree fell, and no one heard it.
What if this was the Thursday?
What if
he never
comes back?
It doesn’t make sense.
Feb. 13th
I visited Phillip’s house today.
I knew he wouldn’t answer, but it hurt when this elderly woman answered the door. She said she had lived there 54 years.
When I cried, she offered me milk and a piece of cake. I ran out of the house.
The house that should’ve been Phillip’s.
Feb. 15th
Another Thursday today.
Phillip didn’t come back.
Now I have a pet hamster. Joy.
Feb. 18th
The phone book is devoid of any Phillip Everett.
I checked the town records. No one named Phillip has existed since 1915, and that one is spelled “Philip.” Could the Thursday have put him back in time? Or did it take him out of existence? It could’ve changed his name to something else and transferred him elsewhere, or another time.
I’ll never see him again.
My name remains John. It only reminds me of the day my friend vanished.
I hate this world.
I hate this world.
I HATE IT.
Feb. 29th
Oh, look, it’s a day added to an arbitrary month because our time system is stupid!
Isn’t it convenient that this month just so happens to have five Thursdays? Isn’t that just so nice of them?
Guess what happened this Thursday? That’s right, no one cares!
Altair and Sequoia have stopped talking to me. They say I obsess too much over some “made-up loser” and of course the guidance counselor got involved, because I’m failing every class now, even the one I was magicked into, because I haven’t turned in a paper since... My parents seek counseling, but no one can help me because none of them can understand that I’m not lying.
Why don’t they believe me?
Why can’t they remember?
Why do I have to know?
What if Phillip never existed, and Thursday gave me his memory?
Take me, Thursday.
Take me away from this world.
Please.