The alarm blared loudly, oscillating wildly on the cluttered bedside table. Its shrill sound was slightly muffled by two dirty socks carelessly thrown over it the night before.
It yanked Zhen Chin out of sleep. He groaned like a sheep being forced to chew its own dung.The way he slept, someone could carry him through a hurricane — maybe even a tornado — and he still wouldn't stir.
It was honestly a miracle that the alarm even worked today. Normally, it was his mother banging on the door that woke him, long after he'd already missed the school bus.
His sleeping posture was an art form of chaos. Instead of lying with his head on the pillow, the pillow was draped over his face while he snored and drooled beneath it.
Still half-asleep, he reached toward the alarm, swiping blindly — and knocked it off the table instead. Grumbling, he peeled the pillow off his head.
His room was a battlefield — or, as some might call it, a "typical teenage disaster zone."
The bedside table was a chaotic museum of books, candy wrappers, spoons, and empty soda cans.Opposite the bed stood a large wardrobe, one door hanging open, clothes spilling out like an avalanche. Shoes were scattered across the room like they had rights of their own.
One time, Zhen Chin had actually woken up early, dressed on time, and was ready to leave — but missed the school bus because he couldn't find the other leg of his shoe.He nearly had an emotional breakdown. Turned out, the missing shoe was wedged between the wall and the edge of his bed.
Now, stretching lazily, Zhen blinked groggily at the ceiling. His mouth felt sore and weirdly chunky. That's when he remembered — he hadn't brushed his teeth after eating the night before. He smacked his lips in distaste. Something nasty was living in there.
A strange urge washed over him — a whisper in his body telling him to go back to sleep.
But then his eyes shot open.
The time.
He jolted upright, adrenaline spiking like a lightning bolt through his veins. Without a second thought, he flew out of bed, bolted out the door, and sprinted down the stairs.
Their house was big — not mansion-level, but comfortably above average. A duplex with a design so uniquely crafted, it stood out in the neighborhood. Painted white with elegant red accents, it was lined with flowerbeds that framed the walkway like royalty.
In the kitchen, his mother was flipping pancakes. She was almost done. At the dining table sat a tiny girl with an iPad almost bigger than her. His little sister, already dressed for school, sat relaxed and chill — a queen on her throne.
But of course she was calm.
Zhen Chin missed the bus, he had to walk.
She missed it? Mommy drove her.
"Zhen! You woke up late — again!" his mother shouted, not even turning to look.
But he was already headed in the opposite direction — straight to the bathroom. He needed to freshen up fast, by any means necessary.
His mom, now plating breakfast, glanced up as he dashed back upstairs. He had exactly three minutes to get ready. Again.
Somehow, like a miracle on a Monday, he pulled it off. Minutes later, he descended the stairs fully dressed — shirt inside out, but dressed — and walked into the dining room.
"Morning," he muttered, breathless.
The dining room, just left of the kitchen, had a rectangular table with fresh pancakes at its center. A small potted flower sat in the middle, surrounded by six mismatched chairs.
He kissed his sister on the head and made for the door.
"Hey! Breakfast!" his mom yelled.
"I'm running late!" he called back, shaking his head.
But the scent of those pancakes trailed him like a hungry ghost. He froze, took a deep breath, turned back, grabbed a few, stuffed them into his bag like contraband — and darted out of the house.
Just in time to see the school bus driving away.
It had waited — and given up.
Zhen Chin ran.
He sprinted after it, his bag flapping behind him, his pancakes bouncing against his books. The kids on the bus noticed and, as always, the mocking began.
"C'mon, nerd! Use physics! Fly up here!""Dumb bag!""Run, Forrest, run!"
But none of that mattered.
What mattered was that he had missed the bus.
Again.
And now, he had to walk — two full miles. Nearly an hour. And school had already started.
"Oh man…"
By the time Zhen Chin arrived, he was drenched in sweat. His shoes were falling apart. His back ached.