Genius

Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven

The voice inside my mind is probably not the normal kind

    It's one am when my phone buzzes. I pick it up immediately, it's not like I was able to sleep anyways. Afterall, I'm meeting them today. And I accidently drank half of a pot of black coffee when I went downstairs for water. It's not my fault that it smells good. I open the text and see its from Alan, he said when he was done, I didn't realize he would work for so long.

    So I call him.

    "Stein?" He sounds exhausted and my heart squeezes in a manner that is entirely unnecessary for pumping blood.

    "Did you just finish your shift?" I ask, foregoing introductions as his caller ID would show it was me.

    "Yes, wait why are you awake? Are you having trouble sleeping?"

    "Are you going to walk home?" I ignore his questions, waiting for answers.

    "Um, yes?"

    "Where do you work?"

    "The twenty-four hour convenience store by school, is something wrong?"

    "Absolutely, yes. Stay there, I'm picking you up."

    "What?" I ignore his confusion, I've already slipped my oversized sweater over my pajamas and snatched my wallet and the car keys from the counter.

    "Hal, Susan, I'm picking up Alan from work because I don't want him walking alone at night." I call through their door, knocking first to wake them up. I leave before they can respond past weird mumbling noises and half yawns.

    I got my license when I turned sixteen, the parental units protested so much that I ended up writing an essay about the importance of having a license for them to read, and only then did they let me take a driving test with a private instructor. I was never left alone with Miss Sherry, the instructor, and I said a total of two words to her. Hello. And goodbye.

    I start up the engine of Susan's car, it's a minivan, a soccer mom car. She was going to be a mother. She wanted to fill that big house with children, that's why she bought it. But there is only me, and I will never be the kind of child she would have wanted.

It doesn't take long for me to reach the convenience store, a tall and confused-looking boy in a uniform stares at his phone. I look back at mine, I never ended the call. I quickly run through my greetings and settle on the most appropriate one, rolling down the window so he knows its me first,

    "Oi," I shout, clearing my throat and focusing on the accent I'm pulling off, "Get o'vr 'ere!" Alan looks up, squinting at me before grinning and jogging over to the door.

    "Who'd you steal this from?" He jests, at least I assume he's jesting.

    "Susan, although I asked first I didn't quite wait for a response."

    "Ask for forgiveness, not permission, right?"

    "No, I was just worried because someone was planning on walking around at three am alone apparently trying to get murdered." I grumble, Gwen is rubbing off on me I suppose. I never use to grumble before I met her.

    "That won't happen." He thinks it couldn't happen to him, he thinks he's safe. That's when I slam the brakes, the headlights flash like a warning as we sit in the empty street. I turn to look at him, really look at him, not his eyebrows or hair, not his face, past that. Just him.

    "Is something wrong? Are you okay?" He looks around quickly, seemingly frantic.

    "You think you're safe. People always assume they're safe." I follow the voice on this, because we are in agreeance on this topic, and because I wouldn't have the words to say it myself, "That's why people are dying, killers don't consider you safe just because you rely on the invincibility of self: 'Oh, something like that could never happen to me.'. Well it can, and it will. All that separates you from that body in a dumpster is a ten second long conversation with a stranger, a stray apology to someone you bumped into on the street, a walk home at three am on a Sunday. You're not safe. Nobody is safe. So please, don't assume you are. Be careful." He stays silent until I shift the car into gear and start the car again.