Young Writers Society

This is the first part of the Final Year of Solitude series. Part 1 is more like a prologue, the plot doesn't really begin until part 2, this just introduces the characters and illustrates what the rest of the series is going to be about.

Discretion advised: some adult language

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Final Year of Solitude

Part 1 - September

I’ve known Samson since middle school. He was a truly annoying, messed-up little prick back then, a real Negative Nancy. Now, as we both enter our high school senior year, he’s become one intolerable little fuck.

I tried to keep my distance, occupying myself with tennis during the summer, but I somehow found myself periodically biking over to Samson’s house to hang out with him. It’s my responsibility, you see, I’m his only friend, and a damn good one to say the least.

But I still couldn’t help myself from shuddering when I saw that loser on the first day of our last year at Harrisburg High School, trotting towards the cafeteria table that my friends and I were chatting at.

We tried to be polite: “Hey Sam! How was your summer? What were you up to? Nice tan! Did you go anywhere? Enjoyed the sun?”

And he answered, “Yeah it was good.”

We smiled, nodded for few seconds, then turned away and resumed our conversation about Justin receiving community service for stealing belts from Macy’s. Samson sat there and quietly listened to us.

Lunch that same day was just as fun. Other people were there and they asked similar questions to Sam, but he continued answering with his gay “yeah”s and “uh huh”s, effectively killing conversations and turning people off by his unlikableness. He knows this, he understands this, and he is completely aware that he kills conversations and turns people off. You can see the loneliness and solitude kill him inside. But he can’t help it, it’s his natural personality. And it must’ve been hell for him as we laughed at Nico and his broken ankles from wrestling a 200-pound middle schooler two weeks ago, completely ignoring, no, have forgotten Sam.

He sat there at our table, watching us and listening to us laugh at summer stories, eagerly compare class schedules, and hug girls we haven’t seen for the past three months since school last ended in June. This continued for half an hour until lunch ended and we parted for our next classes, where we met our new teachers, received class syllabuses, and smiled at all the fellow students in our class (since everyone knows each other, being seniors and all). The latter must’ve been hard for Sam; he hasn’t networked with classmates during the three years he’s been at Harrisburg High. Actually, he didn’t interact with any of his peers throughout his entire public school career, so all the people who were in his fifth grade class, for example, don’t know him at all. To tell the truth, those who used to be in the same class as him were more disgusted of Sam than those who were newly acquainted to him. Everyone’s so tired of his awkwardness and closed character. He knows this, he understands this, and he is completely aware of his awkwardness and antisocial behavior. It kills him inside, eating him up like an invisible flesh-eating disease.

School ended for the day. He took the bus home. He always goes home. Every school day it’s like this—him watching people at school, barely talking, never smiling.

Where he lacks in socializing, he makes up for in academia. He’s taking a shit load of advanced classes; I think he wants to go to U Penn in Philadelphia. Well he’s going to have to try extremely hard this year, since the only extracurricular activity he’s a part of is Model United Nations.

But how is he possibly going to get good grades when he can’t even participate in groups? It’s not that no one wants him in their group, they all just pair up with their friends, and since Samson has no friends, he is left out—the odd one out. He has no connections, you see. Oh, he knows this, he understands this, and he is completely aware of his social dilemma. You can see the stress and loneliness tear him up; he wants someone to welcome him, ask him if he wants to join them, show him that they’re interested in him. He wants to be liked.

We do have one class in common—advanced physics. We split off into lab groups to do an experiment about kinetic frictional forces while Samson remained grounded to his chair. It’s not like I ditched him, I already had three other lab partners and there’s supposed to be only four members to each group. Everyone was already in groups of four, except Samson. He’s going to have to painfully swallow his shame and embarrassment as he asks a random person if he or she wouldn’t mind having a fifth member (as usual). But as I looked over my shoulder, I noticed that he was still in his seat, not attempting to scavenge for a lab group. I saw cogs turn in his head. I realized that he’s had enough of his solitude, that he is fed up with merely knowing, understanding, and being aware of his problems. He’s finally going to take action to end the harassments of loneliness and the torments of silence.

I was a witness to Samson’s signing of a pact with himself: that September was his final month of solitude, and he will be liked by others from now on.

I shook my head and continued my work of calculating mass and acceleration. I knew Sam’s plan is bound for a destination of ruin and disaster. It’s going to take him countless months to change, maybe even years. You can’t radically change your natural personality on the spot!

But I never could’ve foreseen the hardships Sam would encounter in the next several months, nor that he would grow so much, so fast. And I never would have guessed that all of Samson’s efforts of beating his solitude would crumble into a wasteful heap in an instant by the whimsy and vanity of a single girl named Remedios.