T.R.A.C.K: Debut Single

Chapter 2: Ryder

I remember the day we first came together. The five of us. And I remember it well.

            Tyr had not showed up in class that day, which was a landmark in and of itself. It was not as if that guy liked studying in school or anything—puh-lease, do you think I could ever call a nerd my best friend?—but he was sorta obsessed with images. He was always loathe to do anything that would tarnish his reputation in someone else’s eyes. Friends, teachers… you would think he was aiming for prom king and senior class president and most likely to succeed and whatever else crap prize they give us when we graduate. It was ridiculous, of course. You can’t have everyone liking you. Though he seemed to be doing a pretty good job of it at the time.

            Looking back now, I suppose that was a clue on just how far he would go.

            So. Anyways, on that day he was a no-show, but I had known before he was planning something big. I just knew it had something to do with me, ‘cause he already bribed me into it. And it was a bribe I really could not refuse.

            Frankly, I had a bad feeling about it even before I knew what the hell it was. No joke. Mostly it was because of the bribe. You simply do not offer bribes like that for any small thing.

            And did I mention that guy has some serious drama queen tendencies?

            I knew the trouble had begun when I found the note in my locker after school. There was nothing special about it, just an address written in his all-too-familiar elegant (girly) handwriting. It was only after I figured out where the address led that I was sure something was amiss.

            To get the gravity of the situation, you would first need a little Geography lesson. Right now, we were in the Satellite City, formerly known as the Slums. If you’re thinking the names lack creativity, well, you’d be right. It was never supposed to have a name anyway.

            The Slums used to be just that: slums, on the outskirts of the blooming Capital. It was where the housecleaners, construction workers and garbage collectors lived, out of sight and out of mind, until the higher society needed them. This went on for quite some time, until, as most cities did, the Capital ran out of space. Slowly, even the middle-income families moved out into the Slums, creating certain Grey Areas more comfortable for themselves. And recently, finally, the Capital’s top dogs have decided that all that space is much too precious to be wasted on the common folk, and want their piece of pie.

            The address Tyr had given me was right on the borders of the Capital, the super posh part us locals call the White Area. I had to stare, slack-jawed, at the bloody mansion for ten whole minutes before I could be reasonably sure that it was the right place.

            Big mistake. It was already mid-afternoon and by the time I realized this was exactly the kind of stunt Tyr would pull off, I felt like yesterday’s nachos in the microwave, and really could not be bothered with common courtesy any more. The gate was open, so I simply let myself in, grumbling under my breath as I stomped down the ridiculously long driveway, the ridiculously fancy porch… all the way until I reached the air-conditioned interior.