John sat back down on his bed.
What am I supposed to do now?
He laid down, pulling the blanket over himself. He tried to sleep, in hopes that things would change back to normal once he woke up.
/
"John. John. Wake up. You're going to be late! It's 7:50!"
John instantly sat up. He woke up in the same bed he fell asleep in. He stared at the woman, "So, do I have school again?"
"What do you mean again? Just hurry up and get ready. The bus is coming in 0 minutes."
"I feel sick today."
"You said that yesterday and were just playing games all day. Get ready."
John clicked his tongue before setting his feet on the ground. He remembered his routine, but the rest of his school life's memories were fragmented. If he had really regressed permanently, this was going to be a pain in the ass.
He groggily walked to the bathroom, brushing his teeth and splashing his face with water. He traced his fingers over his buzzcut, which felt unfamiliar. He had only gotten one when he was 14 because all his friends were getting one, if he'd remembered correctly.
After he was done patting his face dry, he rummaged through his closet, putting a pair of black pants on and a collared white shirt. He rushed over to the kitchen, hurriedly eating his cereal before putting his shoes on and exiting the house.
He ran to the bus stop as soon as the bus was closing its doors. Luckily, the bus driver reopened them. He'd forgotten where his usual seat on the bus was, until a group of boys sitting at the back shouted his name.
"John's finally in!"