Chapter One
"Now, Garren, we both know you are being completely irrational. And that you are lying." Principal Lamen can be such a rational pain in the ass sometimes. "I mean, come on Garren, you've come up with better than this before." I hate the calm way he folds his hands on his desk and stares at me like he's my superior. Which he is. "Mrs. Sheer giving you permission to attack that poor kid?" He shakes his head slowly like I should be ashamed or something. "I just don't buy it. And I don't think she'll be very happy to hear you said that."
Damnit. He's got me. Luckily, I am one of the few people who an actually upset him. Why else would he place his inhaler on his desk everyday when I walk in? See, the whole reason I'm here is because of that fat ass Kevin. He just moved over from East-America region, city ninety-eight. And that doesn’t even make any sense. People from the middle of regions never move. Seriously. I’ve never heard of it happening even once before. Apparently, though, my mom knew his mom or something and she helped them get situated. I know she would be upset if she heard I beat Kevin. Maybe this time, then, I’ll play it cool. Go with the flow. There’s just one problem.
See, the thing is, I get angry a lot. Narra’s helping me with that, but you know, it takes time. Plus, she doesn’t understand. When I get angry, it’s like there’s this fire growing inside me. It’s not an actual fire, of course, but it sure feels like one. I remember once, in grade three, there was a problem with the ventilation and the classroom caught fire. The flames just burst in through the walls. It began to grow and surrounded us kids. There’s was lots of screaming and I could taste the fear in the air. But I didn’t understand the fear. Instead, I was curious. So was Narra. We just kinda sat there near the fires heat, absorbing it, taking it in. I just reached out my hand, just wanted to touch it. The second my hand was engulfed by the flame, the room disappeared. I was in a different universe, in a dome of some sort. Beautiful colors, every on you could imagine, swirled above me. Purples, oranges, reds, yellows, greens and blues twisted together beautifully. Frighteningly beautiful. And then, just like that, I was sitting next to Narra. She was staring at me, her eyes wide, a ring of fire orbiting her head like a halo. It was then I realized my hand was still in the fire. Warmth, calm, happiness, it all flooded into me. But along with that were rage, agony, and eons of pent up fury. It all bombarded my mind and I was blown away by the intensity of it. It scared me. I quickly grabbed Narra’s hand and ran, pulling her blindly to the door. We burst through it, and fell into the hallway, panting. Narra was crying. I looked back into the room and saw a path. The fire had parted where we had set foot. Along the path, the flames stood incredibly erect, but not a single spark lay in the path we had crossed.
Apparently, the others had made it out and left us for dead. At least, that was what the teacher was explaining to the authority. We let them figure out for themselves that we were there. We ate our packed lunches and put the incident behind us. We never spoke of it. I wrote it off as my imagination run wild and a stroke of luck.
But, see? That’s what my fire feels like. Warm, comforting, but oh so angry. So out of control. Except I can control it. I can remain so calm in my anger, that few can even tell I am upset. And, for their ignorance, they get burnt. Maybe that’s what makes me special. That, and the fact that I can unhinge Principal Lamen, of course.
Speaking of Principal Lamen, he was staring at me intently, like he was trying to read my mind or something. Probably was, the creep. “Garren, are you quite ready to listen yet?” Shit. He probably said something and realized I was spaced out. I give him a tight nod. Even though I can mess with his head, he always messes with mine first. Scariest dud I’ve ever met. If he wants to be. “Good. Because I asked you a question. Answer it.”
“But I don’t know what you-“
“Answer the question.”
Alright. He’s gonna pay for this. Something good, something good . . . . A mischievous smile spreads across my face. I know what to do. “Well, you have some weird thing that happened to your face,” I say, gesturing to my own. “Or maybe you were born that way.” I drop my hand and shrug. “Who knows? Umm . . . you have quite a temper on you, Steven. I would go see someone about that. Not married, and I can see why . . . . Probably never had a girlfriend . . .” His face is turning pink. Satisfaction. Nice use of his first name, Garren!!! Thank-you, me. I thought it would add a nice touch.
He sighs. “I didn’t ask you to describe me, Garren. I asked you why you did it.” He shakes his head. Damn. Calm again. Common, you going to have to do better than that. Shut-up me, or else I’ll beat the shit out of you.
“Because I don’t like him.”
“And you don’t like him because . . . ?”
Okay, it has to work this time. “Well, he looks kinda like you. Cocky. But too nice. Teachers Pet. Always gets what he wants, but doesn’t deserve any of it. Come to think of it, I don’t think he has any friends. Or a dick. Bet he’s kinda like you when you were a kid, huh Steve?” I see him cringe. He hates it when I use his first name. So I use his first name. Never learns, the dumbass. His face is turning pink again. Keep going Garren! Alright, alright. “Lets see . . . don’t like his mother much. She’s a little whore, that woman. Always sleeping around, having kids with any guy she sees walking down the street.” See, Principal Lamen is young. Mid twenties. He’s one of the few not sent to training and war. One of the lucky ones chosen to sty and serve the community. Except not so lucky for him. Cuz I’m here. And I just so happen to know that Principal Lamen and Kevin are half brothers. Same mom. Therefore, I just insulted his mother. And pretty bad too. That would explain Principal Lamens cherry red face an short breath. “Well, that’s about it. Unless you want me to tell you about his brother?” He is struggling to say something. I cut him off. “Well, I best be getting back to class.” I salute him, pick up my bag by the strap, and turn to leave.
“You are going home right now, Garren. You will not be going back to class. Wow. He actually managed to get that out. Must be pretty mad. Well, I can do something about that. I give him my most dazzling smile.
“Oh, a day off? What an honor! Thank you, sir!” I scoop up hi inhaler and toss it to him. It lands in his lap. “Think you better use that sir. Doctors advice.” I wink, swing my bag onto my back, and stride out the room. See? I did something about it. He’s not mad anymore. Now he’s furious. I allow myself a smirk. Garren one, Steven zero. Dumbass.
Chapter Two
I take my hovertrans home. I live on the outskirts of city one, so it takes me about twenty ticks to get there. As I pull into the designated slot, I look around in disgust. The thick, twenty story housing blocks are all white. The hovertrans are all white. The lift panel i'm going up is all white. The carpet, halls, doors, walls, everything. It’s all white. Plain white. The only color I see is skin eyes and hair. And I’m sure Leader would get rid of that if he could. It’s horrible how there’s no individuality at all. I read on my tablet about how things used to be. Colors I see only on the news panel. Different clothes, hairstyles, even the personalities are colorful. It’s amazing, yet sad. I still don’t understand why they had to get rid of all that.
Once I get to level thirteen, I walk through the white hallways until I get to Housing Area 13,506. That’s where I live. What is really horrible is the design of the place. Its like we are all already living in the barracks. My room has a single 6”x12” two inch thick Plexiglas window with two layers of plastic. My bunk is attached to the wall, and the white sheets are attached to the bunk- impossible to remove. Sometimes it’s even more of a prison than a barracks. There’s no escape. And the uniforms are stiff- Plain white, three buttons, and thick collar. I tear off the top and walk into the refresher area.
Even though there is individuality in hair, eyes, and skin, there isn’t much. A few people have blond hair and a few have red, there some green eyed and blue eyed people out there. We got a few girls with really nice tans and a few guys with extremely pale skin. But the majority of us? Brown hair, brown and grey eyes, same not-quite-tan-not-quite-pale skin. And that’s disgusting too. Why can’t people even look different?
Me and Narra, though, we’re different. My hair is ash blond. All throughout it there are orange and red flecks in it. Not red as in the air color, red as in the color. My eyes are orange and red with almost invisible flecks of gold and blue in them. My skin is darker than most peoples. When I walk beneath the sun, I literally look ablaze. Narra’s almost the same. Her hair is red (as in the hair color) with random blond hairs all over the place. We have the same eyes and same shade of skin. I look up at myself in the mirror. I have an angular face, nicely cut muscles.
It’s not that I’m bad looking. I actually look pretty good. It’s my personality, though, that throws most people. I bet you wouldn’t believe it, but Narra is my only friend. But we’ve been friends for longer than I can remember, and I suppose she’s used to me by now. Sometimes I feel really bad. When I’m angry, I often take it out on her. And she’s never left my side once.
Sometimes I have moments like this one now. Where I feel all regretful and I reflect on life. But then I ask myself ‘what the hell are you doing?’ And myself replies ‘looking like a pitiful dumbass.’ Then I get up and regain my composer. I look p at the TickTaker. Damn. It’s only two. So now I have to sit around this crack house for three hours. I sigh and fish out my tablet from my bag. Might as well read some more.
That’s one of my things. I love reading about the way things were and imagining what it would be like if we lived during that time. If we could just be ourselves without restrictions. I don’t really care about the consequences; we can deal with those later. What we need to do is overrun Leader and make things back the way they were. That, my friend, would be the ideal government. The people should run it. Not some lazy ass dipshit sitting around at some desk all day getting fat and ordering us around. And I’m sure if people weren’t so scared of him and authorities, then they would agree with me.
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Suddenly I hear a ding signifying somebody is hear. I guess I got lost in the past again. It’s easier to be there than here. I hear the click as the door opens. I glance up at the TickTaker and realize it’s already five. Wow. Time passes fast when your doing something you don’t hate. As the woman steps into the room I rise. I know who it is. It’s the same person everyday and I wish it were someone else. I wish I at least had a father. I mean, I wish I knew who he was. It’s not like she’s the Virgin Mary or something. That story is so obviously not true. She sets her bags down on the table. Then she looks up at me and smiles. “Good afternoon Garren!!!”
“Mother.”
Chapter Three
Okay, so you may have already got this, but I don’t like my mother much. She really doesn’t get me and she’s pretty naive. Plus, she works as a cook and will never put in any of my recommendations for dinner. I mean, come on!!! If your gonna do something for your son, even one thing in your entire life, make it something that tastes good!!! She’s a short woman. Five foot three it makes me feel all cool when I stand next to her since i'm six foot one. Actually, it doesn’t make me feel cool. Nobody feels cool standing next to their mother.
Her intentions are good. That woman has every good intention in the world. She just doesn’t understand what I need. “Yes, Garren. I know I am you mother. I remember quite clearly the day you were born. Know, as you mother, it command you to go to your room and do the homework you haven’t done yet.” Well, she defiantly understands me a little. Enough to know that if u had any homework, I wouldn’t do it.
“There isn’t any. Last week of school for year tens. Testing all week.”
“Fine. Study.” I turn around and make a face so that she can’t see it. I fall back down onto my bunk and read some more.
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I only read for about an hour. Then I go into the refresher area and wash up. I put my shirt back on and head over to our eating table. I sit around for fifteen ticks until my mother appears across from me. Another fifteen ticks of silence and the food rises. I immediately grab my fork and begin to shovel the food into my mouth. After a second I look down to see what I’m eating.
Hm. Maybe mother did put in a recommendation. Or its just luck. Tonight we are dining on one of the finer meals. Fettuccini Alfredo, broccoli, two slices of thick bread and some butter. A tall glass of milk. Also one of my favorite meals. Maybe she isn’t so bad after all.
I’m about to shove another forkful of the noodles into my mouth when she clears her throat. I put down my fork. Okay scratch that. She wants to talk about something. She’s just as bad as I thought.
“How was your day at school?”
“I got sent home at one thirty because I beat the shit out of some kid.”
“Oh, Garren. Why do you do this to me?”
“I didn’t do anything to you. Its Kevin I hit.”
“Garren. Please do not tell me its Kevin Baker that you beat up?”
“Okay. I won’t.”
“Oh, Garren. Why do you do this to me?” she sighs and puts her head in her hands.
“I thought we had already established I didn’t hit you.” I began eating again. My mother shakes her head slowly and then tries to bring up another subject.
“How did you do on the tests?” I hate it when she asks this question. I mean, seriously. How am I supposed to know how I did on the test without my grades? It’s like ‘oh, ya, I got a thousand percent on it! Aren’t’ your proud? Yayy!!! Oh ya I forgot- I haven’t gotten the scores back yet, dumbass!!!’
“Oh, I did fine.”
“That’s good. Maybe you wont get sent to training, then, with your scores so high.”
“I’m going to training,” I say, handing her the booklet with the list of names of who is assigned where, “and so is Narra. We will be in the same division of the forces.”
The silence falls over the table again. I’m perfectly fine with the silence- her voice is annoying anyway. I finish eating and down the glass of milk. “May I be excused? I’m going over to see Narra.”
“Oh, are you two dating yet?”
I shudder. When my mom says that it’s so . . . ugh. I mean it’s not like it don’t think it would be nice if we were- but from my mothers mouth? Ugh.
“No, mother. You know that very well.” I turn and walk out the door.
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I send Narra a click that I’m on my way. It takes about thirty ticks because she’s in the middle of the city. I pull my hovertrans into a guest slot and head on up to housing area 9, 006. Narra and I have a similar background. She has no idea who her father is either, and her mother won’t tell her. We also have the same birthday. Freaky, huh? Yep. I agree. Weird. Who knows, we could be brother and sister. Just kidding. There’s no way that’s true.
She’s waiting by the door for me. “Hey Garren. What’d you do today?”
“Beat up a kid. Then told Principal Lamen that his mom was a who and that he didn’t have a dick.”
“Hmmmm. . . Eh, you’ve done worse.” She smiles and we laugh. It’s true, though, I have done a lot worse. Like telling the judge that he probably needed to go a cup size up. In my defense, I thought he was a girl at first. Really big boobs, that dude had.
“Lets just go on a walk”
Sounds good to me. “Sure, why not?”
“Okay,” she says, “bye mom!!!”
“Bye honey!!!”
And we head on out.
Chapter Four
Here’s the rundown on Narra. Last name is Clonal. She’s five foot eight, tall for a girl. She is normally quiet but gets really talkative around me. Perfect grades and attendance records. Never got in a fight before. Loving to the people close to her. When she dislikes someone, she is never openly hostile. She is curt and polite instead. She is fast- mind and body. Very capable. Her mother is sweet and loving, and will do anything for Narra. Narra will do anything for her mother. They have a very nice relationship.
Narra wishes she knew who her father was, but doesn’t let it haunt her. She lives in the now, concerned about only today. She’s funny and she has a sweet voice. Come to think about it, we are polar opposites. She’s the calm part of the flame, and I'm the angry. Maybe that’s why we’ve never had a fight. Why we’ve always been so close. It’s like the fire. We just go right with each other. We fit together like two puzzle pieces. That’s Narra.
Anyways, We walk a lot. Sometimes we talk, sometimes we don’t. Sometimes we laugh and sometimes we get each other depressed. But these walks have got us to know each other really well. And the city. I know this place like the back of my hand. You could drop me off anywhere here and I would be able to find my way home like that.
Today Narra talks and I stay silent. She tells me about the classes and what questions are on the tests. She tells me the latest drama, which I don’t really care about. That type of thing doesn’t interest me. But I listen anyway. She tells me about life. As we walk, we find ourselves in the warehouse district. It’s this huge area of old brick buildings that the government uses to store things. I think you can get one if you have your own business. But we walk through the twisted streets of the warehouse district while she talks. Eventually she falls silent.
That means it’s my turn. We lean our backs against one of the walls. I tell her about some of the dumbass shit the guys are doing. One broke into an agriculture building and stole a ton of weed. They’ve been smoking it and a few of them were high at school. Some faggot trying to be cool was all messed up with it, so he actually looked like a fool. They offered me some, but, like always, I turned it down. I don’t get myself into that kinda of shit. Its stupid and you always get caught. I tell her about this and some other things. I'm silent for a moment, and so is she.
“Narra?” I say. She turns to me. “We’re going to training in two weeks. What will happen?”
“Well, they’ll probably load us onto a plane and fly us somewhere.”
“No, Narra. That’s not what I meant. Training is dangerous.” I turn to her.
She nods. “That’s what they tell s. but they say it’s a risk we are all willing to take for our country.”
“Is it?”
She’s silent. So am I. “Narra, if you die out there . . .” My voice catches. “I don’t know what I would do. It’s just . . . Narra, you’re the only person on this planet who understands me. Your always there for me, and . . . I need you Narra. I don’t think I could live without you.” I stop myself. I already look foolish and vulnerable enough. I don’t wanna end up crying like pathetic little kid.
I pull myself off the wall, leaving one hand on it, and place my weight on that arm. I'm standing in front of her now. Leaning over her a bit. This is my chance. “Narra, what would happen if I died?”
She looks up at me. “They’d probably bury you somewhere with all the other dead soldiers and forget you ever existed. Send a letter home to your mom telling her how sorry they are. Even if they are not sorry one bit.”
I gaze into her eyes. “No, Narra. You know what I meant. And it wasn’t that.”
She looks away. “What did you mean, Garren?” she asks, softly.
“What would happen to you, Narra?” I ask, even softer.
“I- I don’t know. I would be sad. I would cry a lot. I’d be really depressed. I’d look for someone to talk to, someone who would understand. But there’d be no one there. Nobody who understands us. As in, our relationship.”
“And what kind of relationship is that?” she’s still looking away.
“I-”
“Narra,” I say. She looks up at me again.
“I don’t-”
“Don’t answer that.” I lean in and press my lips against hers. We have never had any sort of romance between us before, but I kiss her and wrap my other arm around her waist. Her lips are warm and soft and I like the way they feel. She kisses me back, her hand moving u to my shoulder. And I like the way that feels.
I pull away and gaze into her eyes. I kiss her again, longer this time, thinking about how happy I am. After all these years of nothing, finally . . . And then I think about how much it will hurt to lose her in war. I pull away again. She’s looking at me.
“Garren,” she says. Then she pulls away from me, turns around, and runs off in the direction we came.
I stare after her for a minute, confused. Then I get mad at myself for being so utterly stupid. I spin and punch the wall as hard as I can. “DAMNIT!” I rest my fist on the wall, then look at it, astounded. It’s covered in blood. The knuckles are all messed up and my hand is bloody. I know I broke it, but I feel no pain. Except for the pain in my chest. That’s the only pain I can feel as I cradle my fist and begin the long walk home.
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