SOJOURN

Chapter 1: Sprocket

Sprocket was not a normal kid, for the simple reason that it was in which he was both normal and odd in equal measures.

He was the kind of person someone might see on the tram or subway and not think twice about, maybe not think of him at all if the thinker had a phone on them. He was of normal height and normal build, with a normal looking face (nothing too handsome or ugly) and hair that seemed to argue with itself over whether or not it should be blond or brown (the result was that it was a mix of both).

The only unusual thing about him was his eyes. Like his hair, they seemed to have difficulty deciding which colour they were supposed to be. At first glance, you might have thought they were hazel coloured. A second glance might have you correcting yourself and have you thinking they were amber coloured. A third glance would have you back to thinking they were hazel again. A fourth glance would have you thinking that (and bear with me) there seemed to be light coming out of it. That wasn't really; it was just the fact Sprocket's eyes were back to orange.

Sprocket knew his eyes acted this way. People had pointed this fact out to him back in prep, when the biggest priorities back then were scribbling and learning how to read, but he'd never throught much of it. He had when he was younger, but as time went by and things changed, it slipped from his mind.

Sprocket had never been the coolest kid at school. He'd been more popular in primary school. Back then, people didn't tease you about your sexuality or the fact you sucked at sport or what ethnicity you belonged to. Back then, people cared about colouring in, playing at lunch, amazing things that in reality, were probably never going to happen or what shows were on ABC3 or Nickelodeon.

Sprocket's best friend had been Tyler Michelmore back then, and then it had been just the two of them. Tyler (or Ty as he prefered) was in many ways Sprocket's opposite; he was confident, handsome, up-to-date with everything and great at sport, while Sprocket was awkward, clumsy at sport and had the sex appeal (in his mind) of a squished cane toad.

But there friendship worked; they both shared a love of building treehouses down at Portsea, Nippers (both were members of Surf Lifesaving), mint ice-cream and old Australian sci-fi soap operas.

Then secondary school came along like a skin disease and seemingly ruined everything. To Sprocket, it was chaotic, with new classes, new students and new everything. He was shoved in with people who already knew things that Sprocket had never heard of until then, such as "sex" and "gay" and the ever popular "fuck you".

Ty moved on and found new friends. His skill with a football and cricket bat was a bigger drive to popularity then knowing the right answer. He settled into middle school and then onto high school with ease. He was relaxing a few seats back from Sprocket, with a phone in his hands, SnapChatting about a party he was going to that night with a girl he'd met in Chemistry class.

Not that Ty forgot him. He and Ty were still friends. And with Ty, Sprocket was cool. But alone, Sprocket was not. He quickly fell into the rank of the punching bag , the kid who anyone can tease with no fear of reporcosian or being called out, as it was always just a joke. Never bulling, just a joke.

And Sprocket let it happen .

It was just something he couldn't help, like being stuck on a bus on a scorching hot day with fifteen other students, several of which (judging from the smell) hadn't heard of deodorant.

It was late into Saturday morning, and for most kids Saturday means sport.

School sport, club sport or just sport with the family. And in Sprocket's case, that sport had been for school. And it was cricket.

The game had been played in one of the hottest, sunniest days on record, for November at least. It'd been so hot that if the temperature had risen even a few more points of a degrees, the game would have been off.

But it hadn't, so the game had gone on and every teen who'd played had ended up with some sunburn, sweat and a fierce desire to take a cold shower and spend the rest of the afternoon lounging around and doing nothing.

The bus had been converted by students and teachers alike to help keep everyone cool; curtains were drawn keep the sun out, the aircon was on full blast and kids were lounging around, trying to avoid the heat and the sheer boredom of a two-hour bus trip from Ballarat to Melbourne. Most conversations were short and only lasted a few minutes, as everyone was stareing off into space or listening to music on there phones.

Sprocket was doing the latter of the two. He was trying to avoid thinking of the amount of VCE homework he'd have to do when he got home before heading off to his weekend job at Mackers, while he looked out the window at the house and shops of Melbourne rushed past and half-listened to Timomatic sing about parachutes.

The bus was halfway back to school when it happened.

The bus was cruising down Flinders Street, just coming up towards St Pauls Cathedral. Not the kind of place accidents happen.

Sprocket first heard the driver swear "Holy shi-"  before the bus swerved sideways and half the kids, all of whom weren't wearing seat belts, were thrown towards the right of the bus. Sprocket was half strangled by his seatbelt as a great force threw him towards the right, his phone being thrown from his hand. 

Another screech and the same force was throwing him towards the left, smashing him against the window. He heard others cry out in pain and a couple of girls screamed in fear. 

A final screech, a cry of pain, several screams of fear and mighty crash later and the world dissolved into blackness.