Evelyn - Chapter 2

Chapter 2!

I step towards the school. The building is made of dull grey bricks, with a boring flat roof, and an unoriginal layout. There are two floors with 20 classrooms each. In the middle is the cafeteria, and the lockers are in the hallways surrounding the cafeteria. If you were unlucky, your locker could be on the second floor, making you climb the stairs every time you need something from it.

I enter the building and am immediately met with the overlapping conversations of other students. They don’t realize how loud they are, which only pisses me off even more. I try to ignore the noise as best as I can while I head towards my locker.

All the lockers are in straight rows, no faults to be seen. I almost walk past my locker due to how similar they all are. We’re not even allowed to customize our lockers to recognize them, no stickers, no magnets, because God forbid you have creativity. This makes looking for your locker a daily challenge until you get the hang of it. The school says that it’s their property, and that we should treat the lockers with respect. Respect? For the lockers? How about telling us to treat fellow students with respect. But alas, I’m not a locker. So there goes my respect.

I open my locker and dig through it, pulling out books and dumping them in my bag. “Eve!” Startled, I whip my head around and my eyes land on a boy. He wears jeans, with a dark blue T-shirt. Nothing flashy. His hair is a fiery orange, and he has soft, blue eyes. Resting on his nose is a pair of black glasses. His cheeks are glazed with small freckles, and below that his lips are curved into a smile. Why do I keep getting jump-scared today? I give him an unimpressed look, “Good morning to you too, Sam.” Unlike me, Sam lives in a pretty stable home. It’s not super fancy, as expected from The Middle, but it’s better than my situation.

He chuckles and leans against the lockers. “Guess what?” I roll my eyes and continue packing my bag like he’s not there. “What’s got you all pouty?” He says, looking mock-offended by me ignoring him. “I’m busy. Can't you see that?” I respond. “Sure. But I want you to ‘guess what’ first.” He looks at me expectantly. I sigh, “Fine, but I’m not in the mood to play guessing games. Just tell me.” His grin only widens as he grabs his phone. His fingers tap away on the small screen. As I finish packing my bag, I can’t help but feel curious as to what he so desperately needs to show me.

Sam turns his phone around and the screen shows a picture he took from one of the posters scattered around the streets. It shows a dark, humanoid figure. Its limbs are sleek and strong looking. Its armor is made of black, metal plating with blue accents surrounding the ridges. There are wires subtly running along its chest, limbs, and neck. Metal components are seen all over, and its face is covered in a dark visor, only showing a pair of glowing eyes and a simple line, which I assume is supposed to look like a mouth. It wears a leather jacket with the logo of our city on its shoulders. It looks like it wears sleek, military uniform. It’s standing in a super-hero like position with a caption above it saying: ‘The new generation of soldiers!’ I stand perplexed for a moment, taking it all in.

“Is that-” I begin, but Sam cuts me off. “It’s the newest tech from The Core! It's still being tested, but it’s supposed to launch in around a month.” He looks excited. He always is when it comes to these types of things. “Is it a robot?” I ask. Sam’s eyes gleam. “Yeah! Isn't that genius?” I stop and think for a moment. Is it genius? Is it really? Something that doesn’t eat, sleep or feel. Maybe genius isn’t the right word. Dangerous is what I would call it. When something doesn’t know empathy, doesn’t know kindness. Only obedience.

I think back to the cop I nearly bumped into. What if he was one of those things? I noticed a suspicious look. Would one of these robots have acted on that suspicion?

I look back at Sam. “Well? What do you think?” He asks. “Uh, it’s...” Sam looks excited, I don’t want to ruin that for him. I smile, “Genius. Yeah.” His face lights up “I know right!” Before I can say something else, the bell rings. I grab my bag and swing it over my shoulder. “See you.” I say. Sam nods, his smile fading again, because we wouldn’t get to see each other until after school, “Yeah, see you.” I take one last glance at Sam before walking to my first lesson.

I walk into the classroom right on time. English class. I sigh as I take my seat. I don’t have anything against English, I just have something against the teacher. Ms. Barlow. Her brown hair is clearly turning gray, and it is tightly pulled into a bun. Her eyebrows are just tight lines on her face, and her mouth is naturally angled slightly downward. She stands in the middle of the classroom with her scrutinizing look. I sit up straighter. Another rule, don’t sit comfortably. I listen to her call attendance, students saying ‘present’ in the most monotone voice you can imagine. Ms. Barlow walks to the computer and taps away at it with her slender fingers. She opens a boring slideshow in which I can tell she put next to no effort into.

For nearly the entire lesson my thoughts wander to anything except English. I think about the poster. I think about Sam. I think about home. I think about mom. I think about dad... I look down at the table. Dad, I wish you would come home soon...

The lesson ends and I pack my stuff. I got lucky this time, Ms. Barlow didn’t notice me zoning out. I shuffle out of the room. The kids surround me with their conversation and laughter. My thoughts are still on another planet, though. As if I'm running on autopilot, I walk to my next class. Where another old person whose ambitions have died years ago tries their best to teach us something, but ultimately, they all fail to keep anyone’s attention. How are we, as the new generation, supposed to grow when we’re constantly held back by our elders telling us that this is the way we’re supposed to do things, this is the way things are. How are we supposed to develop when we’re restricted from thinking outside the box?

I drift though the next classes. Sometimes I just stare at the clock, waiting for something to happen. Anything. But ‘fun’ seems to be a foreign concept. At lunch I sit alone as usual. I do have friends. Well, ‘friends’ plural isn’t the right word. I have Sam, but our schedules don’t sync up.

I take a bite out of my sandwich and hear approaching footsteps. Please don’t be him. I need some peace. I look behind me, at the source of the footsteps. It's him. Tyler. The personification of generic, with his generic baggy jeans and his generic white T-shirt with a generic sports jacket over it. His hair is dyed blonde, and his face is so punchable.

When he passes me, he just has to slap the sandwich out of my hands. I sigh. It’s basically a daily struggle. Dealing with people like him, prissy rich kids. Well as rich as they get in The Middle, at least. I pick my sandwich back up and before he can say anything, I get up and walk away. He watches me with a smug smirk; I let him win. I keep walking, making distance between us. There's no use punching back. He'll just start crying to the teachers. Why don’t I cry to the teachers? Simple. I’m a liability. Everyone knows I live on the Edge, which makes your status plummet. People know that I could fall at any time. A golden boy like Tyler on the other hand? People want to get on his good side, mostly because of his parents. They work for some company in The Veil. Like I said. Rich kid.

I finish my sandwich in a corner, away from most of the noise. The bell rings, signaling that lunch is over. Two more classes. I move out of the cafeteria, wading through the sea of people. Eventually, I reach the classroom and take my seat. The teacher starts his lecture. Rambling on and on about some obscure topic.

I wrestle through the final lessons and head to my locker, unloading the books back into it. When I close the locker, I notice Sam waving at me from the other side of the hallway. I smile and wave back. Sam runs up to me, “Hey!” I grab my bag and sling it over my shoulder. “Hi.” We walk through the hallways together, talking a bit. “Have you been thinking about the poster?” I say, slicing through the small talk. “Uhm, only the entire day!” He exclaims. I fidget with my sleeve, “I’ve been thinking too. Don't you find it a little scary? The whole robots replacing people thing?” Sams eyebrows furrow slightly. “I don’t know. I haven’t thought about it that way...” My expression softens ever so slightly. “You know what, never mind.” I look away from him, staring forward.

There is an awkward silence for a moment, until a familiar voice cuts through it. “Well, well, well, if it isn’t my favorite Edge girl.” It was Tyler, with an irritating smile. “What? Going to run away again like you did at lunch?” He steps even closer, but Sam interrupts his teasing. “Do you ever leave her alone? Don't you have better things to do? Like kissing your father's ass?” I can’t help but smile at Sams savage display. Didn't think he had it in him. Tylers smile falters. “I wasn’t even talking to you!” He snaps back. I feel compelled to say something, “Looks like someone can’t take a little teasing.” Tyler face reddens slightly, and I revel in the small victory. “Whatever! It's not like you’ll last long in The Middle anyway! Give it a few weeks, and you’ll be working in a factory, where you belong.” My victory comes crashing down, and my smiles fades. He hit a nerve. I grit my teeth. Sam puts a hand on my shoulder, stopping me from saying something I might regret. When I stay quiet, Tylers ego bloats again, and his smirk reappears. “You know I’m right.” He finally leaves, and his departure leaves me in a sour mood.

Sam and I walk through the hallways. The silence from before returns, but this time it’s not awkward. It's tense. I keep my gaze forward, my eyes are narrowed slightly, and I take fast strides. “Hey-” Sam’s just trying to be nice, but right now he comes off as a little patronizing. I cut him off, “Don’t. Just don’t.” Sam’s eyes flicker over to me with a hint of concern, but he decides to stay quiet for the rest of the walk. When we exit the school we go our separate ways, me to the bus station and him to his home. He lives close, it’s about a five-minute walk from his house to school. We don’t say a word when we part, the tension is still thick in the air. I walk toward the bus station. Mr. Mason isn’t there yet, so I sit down on the bench, putting in my earbuds and relaxing to my tunes.

Thank you for reading! Sorry if I have been inactive for a while, I had some things to do for school. I hope you enjoyed this new chapter!