Wayward

CHAPTER TWO

Jim took three puffs from the respirator and paid the fee. For about fifteen minutes, his lungs would be bulletproof - more than enough time to make it to the autobus. He walked through droves of lingering students.

Jim went about his days like a time traveler trying not to step on a butterfly. This position had its advantages. In fact, they were numerous. For one, he saw a lot. He saw that the most popular kid in school was harboring a deep guilt at the expulsion of a friend who didn't align with his class on the social ladder. He saw the girl who was too nervous to tell her crush she liked him while she tried to set him up with her best friend.

He knew that to stay safe - one had to fit in. One had to run with the pack. The strong were always in the center of it all, surrounded on all sides by people with the same backpack, the same hats and sneakers. Day after day, Jim watched the outliers get crushed.

There was a script, and you were meant to follow it. A blueprint. A set of established steps. Score high in your classes. Use your score to get matched with a job at your skill level. Get married. Buy a house. Have a kid. Collect $200 when you pass go.

Lynn was a perfect example of someone who didn't stick to the script. That afternoon, when she slammed the heel of her hand into his chest and disappeared, crying into the girl's restroom, he had the distinct worry that he was going to step on a butterfly.

He looked at his shirt. There was a smudge of dirt where she had shoved him. Muddy tracks led to a dense crowd of students, huddled around something. He turned his body sideways, swimming closer to see what they were looking at. No one paid him any mind as he slipped to the front of the crowd. There were three boys - kids that everyone knew - trampling through the dirt, stomping on the tiny green sprouts that had just surfaced.

Jim knew about Lynn's plants what it was because she never shut up about them. For her capstone project she was experimenting with different fertilizers and growing methods in an attempt to grow a plant at the center of campus. Her hope was to beautify the campus by reviving an array of exotic flowers.

The undertaking was optimistic, bordering on naive, but Lynn seemed to have an unbreakable resilience. People laughed and pointed and made fun of her as she knelt in the dirt, planting seeds, experimenting with soil and generating artificial sunlight.

Jim blinked as a boy named Reggie Mulholland kicked a spray of dirt up into the air. They laughed like hyenas. Everyone. A tiny sprout with thin, infant roots was flattened on the concrete. Jim wiped the dirty handprint from his chest.

He found her in the women's restroom. It wasn't far enough away. He could still hear them laughing. The door clambered shut behind him and he heard Lynn sniff and quiet her sobs. He walked across the bathroom floor and ran the lukewarm warm water over his hands to clean off the dirt.

"I know you're in there," he said.

There was a sputter and a sniff and then, "You can't just come in here."

"I know."

"So get out."

"You clocked me pretty good in the chest you know."

"I'm sorry." She blew her nose. The bathroom made the sound echo like a foghorn.

"Listen, I'm real sorry about your plants."

"That boy is a savage."

Jim snorted. She didn't say anything. He leaned on the sink and hoped that he was helping somehow, just by being there. The toilet flushed and the stall door creaked open. Her nose was red and her glasses were smudged and her eyes were a bit misty, but she was herself again. Jim tried to think of something to say.

"Maybe he didn't get them all."

She scoffed. "Doesn't matter." She tossed a wadded up tissue in the trash.

"Why not?"

"It just doesn't."

Jim pulled his hands out from his pockets. "Look, I know this probably isn't what you want to hear - "

"Here we go."

"Just listen, okay?"

"Fine."

There was no gentle way to put it.

"You're a sore thumb.You've just got to blend in a little more. Then they'll leave you alone."

His screen buzzed. She stared at him.

"This is who I am." She held her hands up. There was dirt on her jeans and a streak from a tear she hadn't wiped off her face.

His screen got hot in his pocket. He pulled it out and watched it cycle through an array of colors at blinding speed. Hadn't he shut it off?

"Are you even listening?" she said.

"Sorry, yes. My screen - nevermind. You can still be you."

"Just more quietly, right?" she snapped.

"Lynn, I didn't -"

"Thanks for the advice, Jim." She shoved past him.

"What about your plants?"

"They can't live if the world doesn't want them to."

#

He slid his screen into the port on the autobus and it lit up green. Just when he thought the glitch would give him trouble, the screen seemed to return to normal. He hadn't heard of any other students having an issue like this before. He hoped it was something he could fix on his own.

He scrolled through the settings until he found a way to open the shade. Outside, the sunrise fought valiantly to break through the city smog, casting strange, muddy colors on the clouds.

"This taken?" The voice startled him. A bespectacled giant with pale, freckly skin loomed over him. His backpack was just short of bursting open.

"All yours."

The autobus passed through the thick cluster of buildings downtown. One ancient, brick warehouse was surrounded by people who moved in and out with ladders and shelves and long wooden beams. Jim used his screen to run a search. He skipped through the ads and found a press release. The building was being restored. It would be made into a massive, multi-floored vertical farming unit along with several other warehouses in the area. Jim couldn't help but think about how much the world was changing every moment.

He watched the polluted sky swirl like a chemistry experiment. There must be somewhere that's still beautiful, he thought. He remembered the time he saw the sky. The real sky, that is. Not the muck and clouds, but the sky that was beyond all that. He doubted anyone would believe him if he told them.

It started as a small burst of light, like a struck match. A meteor - it must have been. It tore a hole in the smog, unveiling a pinprick of color - a light ocean blue. To him it had felt like the most important thing in the universe. Then it was gone.