Outcasts and Aliens

Chapter 5 - New Friends

Wyman let the wind rush though his hair, feet no longer pedaling as he let the light slope carry him down the long stretch towards the school. He'd rather cycle past it, wondering what it would take to cycle the thousands of miles back to New York.

He played out the fantasy in his head until insults and litter thrown from students in a passing car disturbed him. He wasn't sure if they knew who he was or not. He didn't recognize them. He cut across the grass after that, close enough to the entrance to skip the main approach.

Bicycles were not a big thing for his year group it seemed. By this stage of the year most of them had their provisional licenses or were catching rides from friends. He guessed he'd have to learn to drive. It hadn't been an issue back home.

Here students made fun of his shoes, Giro Privateers designed for cycling. The straps and buckle were enough to mark them out as different and therefore a valid target for mockery. The idiots called out insults to him in the hall to impress their friends more than hurt him. Still he didn't want to put up with it and if he heard another shout, "Can't tie your own shoes, New York?" he might just punch them.

He'd bitten back, "Can't recognize style, inbred?" as even he recognized it would be counterproductive. Moreover it wasn't as cutting or as witty as he'd like. He told himself he was practicing restraint instead. It was taxing.

He found a slot at the bike rack, his large tired Straggler standing out amongst the mass of smaller road bikes. Whilst closer to the school buildings than the student parking lot it was sparsely filled. School busses would be the other big thing then. Wyman had lived close enough to Barden to walk or cycle. In awful weather he might have hailed an Uber but mostly he liked to be out whatever the elements. He doubted Uber even operated here.

The other bikes didn't seem to be locked up but Wyman wasn't going to take that chance.

As he stood up from securing his bike chain he saw Nina watching him. She walked over, sunglasses in one hand and a crumpled piece of paper in the other. He looked at it.

"My picture?" he said, surprised to see what she was holding.

He'd thrown it in the trash the previous day. It showed. Though the yogurt had been wiped off it was heavily stained, far worse than the edges of the sketchpad he had in his bag. Rumpled and creased it was smudged where someone, Nina presumably, had wiped off the mess. Still visible was the overall scene. The castle standing out over the woods in front of the playing fields.

"I heard you got arrested," she said.

"Yeah." He wasn't sure what was happening now. "I think you saved me from a beating."

"I can't promise that. Maybe postponed."

Wyman looked at her expectantly. Was this an apology? She didn't smile, acting instead like it was a business meeting she'd rather not be at.

"Why did you draw that?" she asked.

Wyman took the picture from her and looked at it then back to Nina. What kind of answer was she expecting?

"I don't see the world like other people. What they consider odd, I consider beautiful." He looked away from her. Did that sound pretentious? He couldn't keep second guessing everything he said.

She stared at him again, making a decision.

"Don't show this to anyone. Don't let them know you can see it."

She put her sunglasses back on and walked off.

Wyman watched her go, baffled.

"Okay," he said to himself, "that's officially the weirdest conversation I've had."