Die in Tune

Saturday’s basketball game and the students from the school who won second place in a national math competition: those were the articles I had randomly picked to write for that issue.

They were actually rather easy to write, because they didn’t require subjectivity, only objectivity. Deliver the news to the fellow readers. I only had to put on the crucial information like “who”, “what”, “when”, “where”, “how” and “why”. I had to merely get the information I needed or be present at the events and the rest would be too easy. So far, journalism was completely different from writing a fictional story from scratch.

Personally, I preferred fiction because it allows me more freedom due to the inexistence of barriers in it. You can write about the craziest, most bizarre characters with the most twisted plot. It’s your story, you’re the “God” in it, you know the past, present and the future, you control the whole thing and you basically know everything. In articles, you’re limited to the facts, to reality. Unless they are reviews or opinion articles. In that case, you can be as subjective as you want.

After I showed Eric the first I article I had written, about the national math competition, he had praised me on my ability to adapt rapidly to the team and to writing articles, yet he noted on the lack of formality in the words I had used and that I still added too much subjectivity. I decided to rewrite the article, even though Eric said it wasn’t needed because the article was already fine the way it was, trying to use Eric’s constructive criticism to my advantage. I wanted to prove that I could write articles. I guess the person I wanted to prove that to the most was actually myself.

Ever since I had joined the team, I got some first impressions about the people in it. The leader was obviously Eric. He was harsh, very harsh and extremely critical apparently. Dave was the silent, hardworking black sheep of the team. He only ever talked to Eric and just to present his articles and ideas. He was the only one who still gave me odd glances. He was also the youngest, being the only sophomore in the team of juniors and seniors. So he definitely had to be a good writer to be in the team. Anna was the most laid back and opinionated. She only wrote the opinion articles and the reviews. She was also one of the friendliest of the group. Brandon was a rebellious guy. He was the darkest in the group, yet he wasn’t a loner like Dave. He was actually the most extroverted guy in the team other than Eric, who obviously had to be because he was the “chief”. Andrew got stressed easily with deadlines and was a perfectionist. He also was the most organized in the team. Rachel and Jillian never stopped arguing and debating about things. They were usually the people who always wrote just before the deadline. Because they spent all the times we met bickering.

I had become friends with most of them and it was fun to actually hang out with them and work in team and socialize. Completely the opposite of what I expected, working in team was actually quite easy, when the group was formed by interesting people.

The biggest disadvantage of being in the journalism team is that I don’t have much time to write my story anymore. Or more importantly to be with Harriet. To just sit by her somewhere else than the classroom or the cafeteria. To just hold hands with her in a place other than the school hallways. To just wrap my arms around her and kiss her. To just tell her I love her and know that she loves me back.

But no matter how much time we spend apart, our feelings towards one another don’t weaken. She strongly believes in me and doesn’t mind staying at my house watching me write my articles with my forehead creased in concentration. I wanted to finish my story so she could read it.

So I could see her deep in concentration. See her reaction.

My dad had gotten back home from his business trip and had brought along with him a bag full of things he had bought in Denmark, where he had been. But among the items he brought for me, my favorite one was without a doubt a hardcover notebook. It was bound in fake red leather with some golden motives decorating the cover. It looked ancient, but I loved the fact that the paper that was used in the pages was actually recycled. It looked like something that had popped out of my history book. I vowed to myself to write in it as soon as the pages on my old notebook ran out, which wouldn’t take so long.

My mom hadn’t returned yet. She would take a bit more time than the originally planned, because the people she was doing business with decided to do some modifications at the last second which caused some problems and she had to stay there to help solve them. I guess Harriet was completely right: better learn to deal with assholes sooner than later, because eventually we would all have to face one (or many) when we got a job.

I had just emailed Eric my second version of the article and the one about the game, when I felt my inspiration leave its dark, hiding place in my mind, demanding complete attention from its owner. I looked at my notebook and felt my fingers twitch not being able to resist the temptation to write. Slowly my fingers crawled towards the closed notebook. I was picturing dust on the cover and between the pages of the notebook, all these exaggerated assumptions, after more than a week of not writing or touching my notebook.

I could feel my fingers ready to attack and snatch the notebook. They were the predators to my notebook, the prey. The catch was this prey couldn’t escape. It found itself trapped in a matter of seconds within the tight grip of my hand.

The pencil instantly rolled to my hands, as if it sensed my strong inspiration flow. And when my pencil and my hand merge as one and connect with the sheet of paper, there’s no bailing out.

Just like in the Rebellion.


The water felt refreshing on my sweaty body. I had just spent the entire afternoon training with Derek, with whom I was getting along great, trying to perfect some defense and attack techniques I had learnt on my first days. Last training session. Now I was in the shower room across the hall from my room, having the last shower on rebellion premises, before I went on my mission: infiltrating the witnesses’ territory.

It was a big shower room with many little private cubicles. The showers were automatic, so you could put your clothes on the stool next to the shower and once you stepped onto a marked area, the water would just come out automatically at normal temperature. Not too cold. Not too hot. Just right.

I rinsed my hair with some of the hair products they gave me and scrubbed my body. When I was done, I stepped out of the marked area and stepped into the dry area where my dirty clothes were placed. I wasn’t going to wear them again. Revaun had given me some new clothes, which I would wear for my mission. But I had left them at my room. So I wrapped a towel around my waist and went to my room, holding my clothes in my left arm.

I put on some clean underwear and a pair of dark pants. I still hadn’t put on a shirt, when I heard the door close. Someone had entered. Someone whose scent I could recognize anywhere. That sweet yet daring aroma of Harriet was unmistakable.

She wrapped her arms around my arms and kissed my naked shoulder. Covering it with invisible traces of her lips. Her hands then traveled down from my arms to my hands. I turned around to face her, my typical pathetic smile planted on my face. It was the night before I would actually show everyone in the rebellion what I could really do. What I was worth. Harriet believed in me and trusted the success of the rebellion on me.

I lifted my arms up to my chest, bringing her hands along with mine. Her touch felt warm against my bare skin. She came closer and, letting go of her soft hands, I placed mine on either side of her head. She surprised me by saying “Shall we practice one last time?” I raised an eyebrow. She smirked. “Instead of a last dance before you go on your voyage to the unknown world of the brainwashed, I thought a last fight would be more…Interesting.”

Not having time to argue or refuse, she pushed me against the wall, her strength being a little unexpected, and she grabbed both my wrists and held them to my chest. I smiled at her try, but twisted my arms so I could free my wrists. Then I pushed her front onto my bed. I fell on top of her. “You wanted a duel. I’ll give you a duel…”She grinned at my words, then tried to free herself. She pushed both her hands onto my chest, and used her feet as well. I wasn’t holding tight onto the bed, so she pushed me off easily. She jumped out of the bed and was about to run towards me and push me into the wall again. I grabbed a hold of her though and pushed her against the wall. I grabbed her wrists and pinned them to the wall on either side of her head.

And without giving her a chance to fight back, I made her surrender by planting my lips on hers. I let go of her wrists to cup her face in my hands. She gave in and wrapped her arms around my neck. Then I parted my lips from hers. “You know that we could’ve done this without a fight?”

“I’ve always wanted to kiss like that.” She smiled at her unique fantasy. “Why would I waste the opportunity when it’s presented upon me?” She had a point. I just couldn’t understand why I didn’t find out sooner that I liked her. “Hey, I have to show you something. Put you’re shirt on,” she looked at me and thought more “or don’t, you look great either way.” I laughed at that comment and I couldn’t help but blush. Why did she have to be so adorable even when she teasing me?

I put my shirt on, because it was getting somewhat cold and followed her. She dragged me along through the maze of hallways which had taken me at least three days to adjust to. She knew it like the back of her hand though. We entered a new area which I had yet to explore and I saw a spiral staircase. We climbed it and I got tired halfway through it. They were long and seemed to be leading to nowhere.

When we finally reached the top, I was breathing hard and needed to sit to catch my breath. And we were at a dead end. I was about to throw a fit at Harriet for making me climb what seemed like a thousand steps, when she pushed open a door on the wall above her. It was a secret room. It took some effort from her part to lift it though, because it was slightly heavy. She lifted herself up, propping both her hands on the edges of the small door, and waited for me to follow her in, before closing the door.

I looked at my surroundings. It was quite dark and I couldn’t see anything. She turned her flashlight on, and I could see that we were in a small hallway, not longer than five meters and not wider than two meters. There was a bigger door in front of us. Harriet whispered something into the door that sounded like “perspicuus astrum, atrum divum”. I didn’t understand Latin, but apparently all the passwords for the secret entrances were in Latin. Then she unlocked the door and pushed it open.

The next room was also dark, but we could see our surroundings without the need of a light and I wondered why. The answer was right above me. The ceiling was made of glass. You could see the sky. After days of living underground, the only glimpse of the outside world being the lookout, where you could only see the city bellow and not the sky, it was sort of a nostalgic moment looking into the dark blue sky and seeing the stars shining bright.

“I asked Revaun on my first days here, when I was still learning things about the rebellion and its motives of existence and when I still hadn’t left the underground, if he ever missed looking at the sky. Lying under the stars. And he brought me here.” I felt somehow envious. She was very close to Revaun. “He’s like a father figure to all of us here…” That calmed me down. She picked a cloth she had there and spread it on the floor and sat on it. I didn’t know exactly what to do. I had never lain down under the stars or thought about doing it. But I sat next to her, seeing as it was the only thing I could do without looking like an idiotic stalker.

I put my arm around her shoulder and brought her close to me. She started leaning back and turning herself to face me. Not long after, we were both lying on the floor looking at the sky, holding hands. The silence crept around us until she whispered “I want to tell you something…”

I had to stop at that moment, because I got a text message from Harriet. She was asking me to meet her at the local grocery store where she was at that moment. I wondered why we couldn’t meet somewhere else, but I didn’t question her motives. It was past nine o’ clock though, so I wasn’t going to stay out for long. I closed my notebook and left my room.

The grocery store was nearly empty at that time of day. Or should I say night? It was a small store, just with five lanes with the basic things you wanted for your home. Not like a big supermarket at all. I rarely went there, unless Anita called in sick and I had to run errands when my parents were away. In other cases, I never went there. So, as you can see, it’s pretty rare, especially because Anita rarely calls in sick, maybe just once a year.

Anyway, I started walking around the store looking for Harriet. I found her standing near the candies, looking at the lollipops. She was checking her pocket for some change when she saw me. She smiled and got closer to me, going up for a quick peck on my lips. “I need to tell you something, but first…” She picked a coca cola flavored lollipop and walked towards the counter to pay it. “I need some sweets.” I laughed and offered to pay for her, but she didn’t let me.

Then I followed her out of the store and into the slightly breezy street. She took the wrapper of the lollipop and stuck it in her mouth. She looked like a little kid with the lollipop in her mouth. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?” She asked curiously. I just laughed when she said “I’ve had a huge love for coca cola flavored lollipops ever since I wore little pink dresses and pigtails.” I couldn’t picture her in a pink dress and wearing pigtails. So I couldn’t stop laughing and she pushed me away playfully.

“Well, I didn’t ask you to come here for no reason. I need to come clean about something…” Her face was serious. My face became serious. I wasn’t copying her though. I was suddenly concerned about her and what she had been hiding from me after seeing her expression. “Remember that night at the party?” I nodded. “I was into some deep stuff at the time. No, I don’t do drugs at all and I’ll probably never try them …” I wasn’t getting what she wanted to tell me.

“Let’s go for a walk…” She started walking slowly down the sidewalk. I walked beside her. Our pace was slow, steady. Just like our talk. It started out with the silence. We didn’t utter a word for a couple of steps. She was the one who decided to shatter the silence. “I guess I’ve never told you anything about my family…” Wait, how did I never notice that? I’ve never met her family, or even been to her house. “It’s not that I don’t along with them. I actually do.”

She was thinking whether she would really tell me or not about whatever she was keeping from me about her family. Looking at the floor, that seemed to move at a slightly faster face bellow us, she said “I never really met my dad. And my mom gambles a lot. It hasn’t made us more distant or anything though. She never talks about her gambling addiction in my presence.” She said “One day, she had left for a few days, and told me to go straight home after school and it was better to stay home. The night of the party, I decided to go out, because I couldn’t stand being at home anymore. Anyway, I was on my way to the party, which I had heard about in school, when this guy brings me into an alley and aims a gun between my eyes.” My feet stopped into a sudden halt. “He told me that if my mom or I didn’t pay her debt soon, someone would have to pay. Then he left.”

I didn’t know how to react. I just stared at her. Shocked. Concerned. But mostly just frozen. She had real issues, but seemed so calm about them. I asked her, stuttering, “Did your mom pay her debt?” I wasn’t chilled out about the issue at all. I wanted to know if it was solved, if she was safe, if she was in danger…

“That’s the thing. She hasn’t. She keeps saying that she doesn’t have the money and that she will get it soon. But lately she has been acting weird.” She had already finished her lollipop and was chewing on the little plastic stick. “And I was wondering if I could stay a few days at your place. I’d feel safer there.” I nodded eagerly and without any hesitation. She smiled and said “Thanks.”

I couldn’t sleep. I was too worried thinking about Harriet. She had explained to me that her mom had been fired from her job a couple of months before they moved, and she had gotten a job offer in our town so they moved. In their old town, her mom also gambled a lot and if she didn’t have a job, they’d become broke. But now, her mom wasn’t earning as much as she gambles, so she was owing bigger amounts of money and putting herself and her family at risk.

And yet what amazed me the most was how calm she was about the ordeal. Here I was tossing and turning in my bed, and she was next to me, sleeping like an angel. The moonlight coming from my window, where the curtains were open, shinned on her pale face. Her eyes were closed and her lips didn’t frown or smile. She had a peaceful expression placed upon her face.

I brushed some of her hair, which was covering her left eye, off her face. Her hair was thin and got tangled easily, unlike my hair, which was somewhat thick and wavy. I lied down again and looked at the ceiling. I wondered why people usually did that when they had nothing better to do in bed. Closing my eyes, I tried to drift myself away into the land of dreams.

Just keep your eyes shut…I told myself.

And just sleep…

I tried. But…I just couldn’t sleep. I decided I would slip off my bed quietly and write a bit. I just couldn’t take more time lying in bed without sleeping. I turned on a candle, so that it wouldn’t be so bright like my lamp, so that I could see what I was writing. I had gotten so many candles over the years from my mom, who would bring from her journeys. “This one is to relieve your stress,” she would say. “This one is for therapeutic reasons,” she would place another candle on my desk. Another candle I probably wouldn’t use. I sometimes wondered why she even bought me all those candles. But I never asked.

For once, they would be useful.

It was dawn still. Early dawn. The sun was rising from the east, painting the sky in streaks of pink and orange, making the sky color change from dark blue to a light clear blue. A slight breeze blew; bringing chills up my spine and making the hair on my neck stand up. I had spent the entire night with Harriet. Up in that secret room. I had forgotten how the temperature would change drastically during the day: fresh during the morning, hot with a soft breeze during the day, and fresh again at night. That was a typical spring day.

I had gotten up early due to my anxious nature. I looked at Harriet and remembered what she had told me the night before. Her words echoed in my memories… She revealed that even before I joined the rebellion, she was already infiltrating in the Supreme Court. She was the secret informant. And that while I was in the witnesses’ territory, she would return, to continue her mission. I felt kind of concerned for her, because if she was caught, who knew what the Supreme Court would do to her.

It was a brand new day. Just another ordinary day. A day that would be just another yesterday once it ended. The only difference in this day was that the location where I woke up wouldn’t be the same one as the one I’ll fall asleep in. I actually didn’t have much time to get ready, so I woke Harriet up, because I just couldn’t leave without kissing her and saying something like “See you, I love you.” Even if I had to interrupt her sleep, her dream, her peaceful, angelic expression…

I didn’t have to do much. A combination of my slight movement and the sun rays hitting our faces woke her up. She looked at me and smiled. One smile, and the cold temperature faded and all I felt was warmth. Our hands we’re still intertwined in each other. They had been all night.

“I think I better get going. I have to leave early, if I want to make it on time…” Sadness emerged on her face. I was going to go back every week to give updates. It was going to be risky, because the territory where I was going to stay was at the far end of the city. And our underground location was at the other side.

“Don’t worry about it, you’ll do great…” Amazing how she could understand what I felt better than myself. I didn’t even notice I was doing my nervous habits. I usually messed with my hair and with the cuffs on my shirts. I was nervous that I would fail. That I would disappoint Revaun and the whole rebellion and most importantly Harriet. That I would disappoint myself. “Really, don’t worry.” Once again, one assuring smile and my confidence levels grew bigger.

Not many words were exchanged between us after that. Only reassuring smiles and a kiss. You didn’t need to verbally state to a person that you loved her and that you would see her soon. Sometimes actions spoke louder than words.

Here I was. The moment had finally arrived. It seemed like just a minute ago I was with Revaun, him wishing me luck, me promising him I wouldn’t fail him. Derek also wished me luck. He was going to stay there for the meantime, planning the attack from the rebellion’s side. And here I was all alone, dressed in a simple outfit that Revaun gave me: a white shirt; black jacket, pants and tie. My shoes were black and made of leather, polished and shiny.

I had looked at myself in the mirror and couldn’t recognize myself. I’ve been a murderer all my life, someone who dressed in a unique yet not in an eye catching way. This outfit was even less eye catching. And it wasn’t unique at all. I didn’t look like myself. Which was how I was meant to look: like a nobody.

And here I stood before the gates that separated me from the witnesses’ territory. I had been near it so many times and pitied the people inside of them, trapped by mundane lifestyles. Now I was doomed to live their way for some time. How ironic?

It was only when I left the underground as was walking through my old part of the city, that I noticed that the” entrance” was located in an area near the mountain. So we probably lived inside the mountain in a way.

Some of the rebellion’s other in informants and messengers have told Revaun the best location to trespass the gates. Since there were so many witnesses inside, they wouldn’t notice that I magically appeared out of nowhere, and would offer me a job immediately. So I would be in contact with my fellow colleagues in no time. I looked for a big, old building with a sign that said “Declaravel Lethal Poisoning School for Girls”. Revaun explained to me that across from that building, near the gate, there was some sort of secret passage on the ground covered with rocks. I just had to find it. I spotted the building so I immediately searched the ground, which coincidentally was all covered in small rocks. Pebbles to be precise. Whoever designed the gate and the surrounding area should’ve taken the people who like trespassing into consideration!

I started jumping on the ground trying to see if there was any noise that sounded different. Luckily it was rocks and not sand, otherwise not only would I look pathetic, but I’d get my suit all dirty. And I didn’t have extra clothes. I was about to give up, because I was getting tired, when I heard a sound that seemed different.

I started removing the pebbles from the area and I saw two things that I could grip and lift. Not many people were out at that time of the morning. Days in the city only began at eight in the morning, not at six. So it was quite easy to lift the heavy piece that covered the passage, and crawl into the hole, covering the passage before I was inside completely. I was inside a narrow and low tunnel. I had to crane my neck down so my head wouldn’t hit the top of it.

Feeling the walls, I guided myself inside the darkness. I almost hit my face against the wall in front of me, where some stairs were. I climbed them and noticed that this time it was a wooden door and not so heavy. I lifted it easily and found myself in the forest, but close to the city. I guess it was just in the forest, so that the Supreme Court wouldn’t find it. I was already out when I noticed that there was grass covering the door, so people couldn’t see it.

I walked to the city, nonchalantly, and then I looked for any place where I could go. It was a lot smaller than our part of the city, but there were many tall, modern and metallic buildings. I wandered around, looking at the signs on some places. There were many stores. The clothes’ stores had the same type of clothes in every display; the bookstores had all the best-sellers; the home decoration stores had almost the same things as well. There wasn’t any originality.

Everything was a replica of a replica: a never ending cycle of imitation.

I found a sign that said “Alvewor Residency”. Ringing the bell on that door, I waited nervously for the person in charge of the place to open it. Didn’t take much time, just a couple of seconds actually. A lady opened the door and looked at me from head to toe, an expressionless look upon her face. She was wearing an exact copy of the outfit I had seen on one display. Her hair was straight and black, not one strand bellow her shoulders. She seemed serious, close-minded and conservative, yet she didn’t suspect of me. She let me in without hesitation.

“Welcome to Alvewor Residency. We only have two more vacant rooms to occupy, so you’re in luck. How long are you planning to stay?” She wasn’t looking at me the whole time she made her monotonous welcome speech. She was looking at the book with all the check-ins and check-outs. I had been warned by Revaun that the witnesses liked to have everything schedule, therefore they had their calendars glued to the back of their hands, literally.

“Three weeks.” Me and Derek had decided that that amount of time was sufficient. First week was to start rising interest out of the witnesses. Second was to join people and make a reasonably large and strong group. Third week was to actually train the group and let them into the plan. Then after the three weeks, we would attack the Supreme Court from every part of the city. The rebellion from the screamers’ and murderers’ side. Us, the witnesses, from behind the gate.

The lady, whose name tag said ‘Gail’, put the date in and date out and asked me to put my name and sign in a place. I did as I was told. Everything seemed so robotic and planned. I felt completely out of place, but she didn’t seem to notice. She informed me of the prices, and then handed me some keys and said again in her repetitive tone “Room’s on the third floor, second door on your right.” I thanked her, and went to my room. I wasn’t carrying any baggage, because it didn’t even cross my mind. The lady that attended me didn’t seem to care though. It was all a business for her.

I was on the ground floor, so I had to go up a mini-escalator until the first floor, and then catch an elevator to the third. There weren’t any stairs. It was all mechanical and robotic. It was all modern and futuristic. It all represented the future, not the present times.

And without any sweat, or any need to rest, I reached my room. The door was wooden, but polished and painted in grey. It blended into the uniformity of the place. The key was automatic, I just had to insert it in a slit on the door and after a yellow light blinked above it, the door opened. The room was small, simple, just with a bed, a closet, a desk, a chair and a bedside table, all in tones of gray, black and white.

Now all that I had to do was get a job, start recruiting people and inform them of all the conspiracies that were hidden from them. Get them all hyped up to want to actually go against the people who trapped them within the gates. Fairly simple, doesn’t it sound?

Not exactly. I didn’t even know how I would get a job in a small period of time. It was the first time I was even inside that area of the city. It was like visiting a foreign country without a map or anything for that matter.

Job. I needed a job. Leaving the confines of my room, I wandered off again into the unknown maze of streets, looking for a sign of job offers. Skyscrapers flooded my view, almost covering the clear sky above me; the metallic surfaces of the buildings reflecting the sun rays, making the city brighter and even shinier – all of this is new to me. A whole new world. A whole new scary world.

From street to street, building to building, I’d see people dressed up just like me crossing my path. I was being engulfed into the fast-paced movements of the people and the transportation in the city. People going left and right; cars being trapped in traffic; cell phones ringing; people talking to someone on the other side of the line, balancing coffees on their other hands… This was my biggest challenge: adapting – learning their ways and become one of them.

Having no other option, I decided to follow one of the first persons that passed by me. I did it all discreetly. Being a natural born murderer did have its advantages. The person was too wrapped up in his own hectic schedule that the thought about someone following him wasn’t even in his mind. He went through some glass doors that automatically opened when someone was near it. I followed him in and found myself in a huge corporation building, a business building.

I went to the place with the sign that said ‘reception desk’ and asked the man who was there if I could speak with one of the supervisors or bosses. He looked at me and asked if I had an appointment. I shook my head and he asked me if I wanted to make one on short notice. I nodded. He used his speaker to talk to someone and said “Go to the 30th floor. It’s the room at the end of the corridor.” I thanked him and went to the elevator.

Shaking in my uncomfortable attire, I took little steps towards that door. The door that could begin my mission, or make me have to look for another beginning. It creaked opened. Or seemed to creak in my mind. The room was slightly dark, and a man sat behind a huge desk. “Sit.” I sat. “Tell me why you have come on such short notice. What are your motives?” All I could hear was his voice. All I could see was his shadow. Yet I feared this moment, more than any murder, any life lesson, and any decision I ever had to make.

“I’d like to know If I could get a job here…” Those words were the only ones I could get out of my inexperienced little mouth. I introduced myself and before he even introduced or showed himself, he began interviewing me at once.

He questioned me on my experience. “None.” And on my education, in which I had to lie because I had only received the murderers’ education. “None as well.” Then he questioned my determination and my will to invest in a job. “I always try to do my best.”

Silence enveloped us. It created the whole suspense people seemed to thrive and at the same time have a big hatred for. Staring at the dark shadow before me, I saw some of it being revealed by the faint light coming in. First I saw a silver band present on his left ring finger, which shined as it reflected the light. Then his hand came into view. And lastly his face. The deep lines on his forehead; the wrinkles around his eyes; and the way his face kind of surrendered to the forces of gravity, all indicated his clearly old age. But his dark hair, indicted some youth. He would probably be in his late fifties, if he were in the murderer’s part of the city, and if he were a screamer, he’d be a very easy target.

“You’ve got the job. Determination is something I value. Now what was your name again?” He asked. I repeated it. “Work begins promptly at nine a.m. and ends at five p.m. with a half hour lunch break at twelve. I expect you to be on time tomorrow, when you begin, Kaleb.” I smiled in contentment and thanked him.

Mission status: first phase complete. Second phase has just begun.

Someone was playing around with my hair when I felt some of the sun rays hit my eyelids. I had spent the whole night writing and hadn’t even realized that I had fallen asleep. “Wake up sleepy head. As much as you look cute when you’re sleeping, I’m afraid that we’ll have to save it for the next boring class, because it’s a weekday and we’ve got school.”

I tried to open my eyes, but the light seemed to burn them. But I eventually got up and wrapped my arms around her. She laughed and said “Hate to break it to you, but we’re kind of already late…” I looked at my watch at saw that we had only half an hour until school began. Shit! I thought. I had never been late for school. Something you probably wouldn’t expect from me.

We got ready in an extremely fast pace, which reminded me a lot of the witnesses’ territory in the morning in my story. How people have hectic schedules and time is a blur. And we got inside my car. I usually walk to school, but we were in a hurry, so we had to use my car. I didn’t drive anything flashy, just an old Ford car that belonged to my grandfather before he bought a Mercedes Benz.

And though we were in a hurry, one thought occurred to me. “Harriet, how much does your mother owe that person?” She looked at me wondering why I was suddenly asking something like that.

“About three grand. At least she told me that amount when I asked her…” She seemed disappointed. As if she knew her mother could pay it but would rather feed her addiction than pay her debt. I thought about it. I had some money I had saved over the years. Not much, but quite a lot for someone who didn’t have a job. Mostly from when my parents still gave me a weekly allowance.

“I could help you pay it…” She looked at me shocked and before she would go on a tantrum on how I shouldn’t be bringing my parents into the dilemma, I said “With my money… I don’t have enough, but I could get a part-time job.”

She smiled and thanked me. I wasn’t a psychic, so I couldn’t predict the future. I wasn’t a superhero, and didn’t want to be (having to wear tights isn’t a thrilling idea). I wasn’t even a normal, run-of-the-mill hero. I was merely a boy. A vulnerable, defenseless boy, who happened to have a black belt in a martial art. So I couldn’t make any promises. Just give assurances.