It's the last day of high school. Finally.
I'm not two minutes into the building this morning when I see Ben at the end of the hall. It's not that big a school, so it's surprising how seldom, over this past year, I've actually seen him. We don't have any classes together, and our lockers couldn't be farther apart, but still. We're in the same building, breathing the same air.
Whenever I have seen him, like now, it's almost always at a distance. He just appears like some sort of apparition. There one moment, then gone.
When I said Ben never explained things to me, what I mean is we've never had a conversation. About anything. After the accident, after Italy, it all just stopped. And it was all somehow impossible. It's like we now exist on different cosmic planes.
I heard Ben got a scholarship to play football at the University of Southern Florida. I'm not surprised; he's really good. Although, I thought the family had turned their backs on Florida. I guess football trumps politics.
For me, I'm taking a gap year, much to the dismay of my mother. I want to go to college, and I probably will, but I want to figure a few things out first. I'm hoping to work at the 7-Eleven out by Route 16 with my friend Prue. I've filled out an application, and I'm waiting to hear back.
The veggie burger I select is the best I can do. I can't believe I'm eating in the cafeteria today – most days I've been hiding out with my trail mix in the photo lab with Mr. Chen – but this being the last day of cafeteria life, I thought I'd savor the end.
Ashley and Aimee squeal in unison when I plop down at our usual table.
"I fucking worship the ground you walk on, you beautiful fucking goddess," Ashley screams.
"I wanna eat you up and swallow you whole," Aimee screams even louder.
I'm smothered in hugs, not only from Ashley and Aimee but from the rest of the group. I've been friends with these girls forever, and I care about them all – they're the best – but I kind of outgrew them sophomore year, and I didn't know how to break away, so I've been doing it slowly. Fortunately, none of them seem to really notice. Which is okay, I suppose. Hurting their feelings is the last thing I wanna do.
There are six of us. Our unofficial leaders are Ashley and Aimee, identical twins. Then there's Lacey and Kira, and Ashley and Aimee's cousin, Denise. To be honest, we're kinda an odd group. It's like we each fill a specific role. It wouldn't have worked any other way. We're like a six-member Spice Girls, and I'm Quiet-Depressed-Weird Spice.
At the moment, I consider my best friend to be Prue. Although, Prue might think otherwise. One person's BFF is sometimes another person's casual acquaintance. Or, in Prue's case, one person's BFF is sometimes another person's mildly annoying customer at the 7-Eleven where they work. But from my perspective, Prue is always there for me. It helps that she's always at the 7-Eleven. She works 12-hour shifts seven days a week. That might be considered slave labor – and should, in my opinion – if it weren't for the fact that Prue is an android.
"Free woman walking," Prue says as I come through the door.
I hope we're BFFs literally forever.
"So, what now, T?"
"Working here with you for the next year, I hope," I say.
Prue considers things a moment, even though she knows I've already put in an application.
"That could be fun," she finally offers.
"Could be?"
"As long as that gap year of yours doesn't turn into a gap life. If it does, I'll kill you."
We both laugh. An android can get fined, or worse, if they're heard joking about killing in any sort of way. For obvious – yet inane – reasons. But Prue trusts me. And she certainly isn't careless enough to make a joke like that with just anybody.
Androids as advanced as Prue have been around for a few years now. If you include them in a global census, it's estimated that nearly 11% of the world's population are androids. They're still working out all the ethics surrounding their treatment, especially since the 8ZX model was released, and distinguishing between human and machine is almost impossible now.
The fact that Prue is thought of in any way as a second-class citizen bothers the hell out of me. She's a better person than most of us.
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Short StoryIt's 2040, and 18-year-old Tiana admits to sleeping through most of her life. But Ben woke her up. How could he not? All those scars intrigued her. They may be an odd couple, but being cast as some sort of Romeo and Juliet never made much sense...
