Story

Terry awoke, a few days later, and yawned. It was Monday, actually. The clear, clean brilliance of the morning sun gleamed through his windows. It was time for school. Terry was somewhat proud of himself for training his body to wake up well in time to make the bus; this despite not really naturally being a morning person. But his internal clock had been properly set, and it clicked and chimed perfectly to wake him up at the right hour. He walked into the bathroom, wearing o

“So that was uneventful,” said Bellona as their self-driving car meandered through the quiet Atlanta streets, taking this turn and that back to their home. “I guess we could have got more testing,” said Marin, staring at her phone. “I’m willing to trust Doctor Crickson,” said Bellona. “If he says there’s no real point to getting more tests done, I am willing to believe that.” Marin was texting. >Done at the doctor. No health problems they could detect. They couldn’t expla

And Marin’s hair billowed and sank, as she sat there, in Dr. Crickson’s office three days later. Bellona sat next to her, wearing a beautiful cashmere pantsuit in deep purple. Marin herself was wearing a dress, and she seethed as she sat. She thought about her left eyebrow. They had been preparing, on this Thursday, to skip the school day and take her to the doctor. Marin had gotten dolled up; she did not typically wear makeup, but she had at least put on some blush, consid

Three periods later, they were at Lunch. “Uuuggghhhhh,” groaned Marin, slumping heavily into her seat with her tray. Her heavy red wool dress kept her warm in the slight chill of the cafeteria. She was also wearing green leggings. Actually, all of them had some green on, somewhere. In addition to Saera’s dark green pants, Ardo was wearing a henley with green sleeves and a gray body, atop some jeans. Terry, of course, had his usual green field jacket on, atop some heavy brown

School started on Monday, January 8th. So a day was bent, and posed, and Saera wandered around the house. She had felt weak when she had first recovered, after so many days being sick and fighting the sickness. But one day of good health and good food was enough to restore her stamina, and on the 7th of January, by midday, she had felt as good as new. She had thought of going to see Marin. But Marin had texted her curtly: >Not now And Saera had heard no more from her frie

“Gah!” barked Saera as she shot upward in bed. Bright white sunlight streamed into her windows. She sweated and she shuddered and she sighed and she… Felt better. Her silver eyes went wide. She breathed, and though some soreness lingered from the coughing she had done for days, the cough itself was completely gone. Her fever, her chills, her nausea and the urge to vomit—gone. She felt well, and healthy, and a surge of joy ran up her chest at the idea. But… something else. H

When on poetic venture one begins, When to a great endeavor one aspires; When to the earth a great new thing is born, When something mighty is in the attempt; When wielding water, fire, air, and earth, When knitting flesh and steel, circuit and bone; When dreaming plots, and vast conspiracy, When naming faction, tumult, strife, and war; When of heroes and villains one would speak; When speaking, too, of those who blur such lines; When dealing of great things, and small things

Marin was sitting on the couch, thumbs flicking idly over her phone screen. The doorbell rang, and her blue eyes glimmered in mirth. “I’ll get it!” she yelled. Vaulting from the couch, she ran through the halls to the front door, and threw it open. “Hey, guys!” “Yo,” said Ardo. “Hello!” said Saera. “Hey, Marin,” said Terry. “Oh, man, come in!” said Marin, throwing wide the door. She was wearing a wool dress in a dark green color. Saera was wearing corduroy pants and a blo

It was a cold December day, early December. Ardo turned to look at Saera. She smiled at him. He smiled at her. It was not so cold when they looked at each other. Ardo pointed. Saera looked. A glance, again, passed between them, and they moved, down into the concrete deeping that formed the drainage ditch. They were downtown. They had taken the bus; Saera had helped Ardo with the precise route. Slowly they wended their way down the heavy, dark gray slope of concrete. It was c

Marin plotted and schemed. It was a few days after Ardo’s beating. As Tyler had predicted, the attack could not be pinned on him or his group due to the lack of cameras around the sewage treatment facility. Mr. Gideon had his suspicions, of course, but without firm proof he could pass no judgment, and merely put out a very stern warning to the student body about fighting on school grounds. So a few days later, Marin sat, sipping gently on a juice box, listening to Becky, Ki

Marin was annoyed. “And so she just stood there, like the stupid fat cow she is, and she wasn’t even moving,” said Kimberley. “So, like, she didn’t even say anything?” said Becky. “No, it was so dumb,” said Kimberley. “She just started crying. So of course I kept making fun of her. It was fun! She just crumpled.” Lindsey snorted in laughter. “Good. Dumb bitch and her fat nerd friends made me late for Pre-Calc with their bullshit. Make her pay.” “I made David Whitaker pa

Saera stood there, in the sunshine, pale skin and platinum blond hair almost glinting, like metal. Her hands were behind her back. She turned her head over her shoulder. “What do you suppose brings us together?” Terry arched brown eyebrows. His skin, pale but not as pale as Saera’s, was also bright in the sun. He brushed a tranche of his brown hair out of his eyes. “You mean, all four of us.” “Yes.” “You could ask yourself. You and Marin have known each other the longest o

Terry blinked, worrying he’d missed something. There had been a moment… just a moment, when he’d felt zoned out. It happened sometimes. He tuned in to the teacher’s statements. “So we find that Azeria’s short story therefore speaks to us about inclusion and exclusion. Ingroups and outgroups. And it asks the fundamental question: how do you know who to trust?”Terry hastily wrote notes down on his desk. A sharp, bright breath issued from off to his right. He glanced over. Ard

“Again.” Taking in a deep breath, Marin rose up on her toes. She vaulted forward, first on one foot, then the next, turned, spun with her arms in the air, twisted gracefully in a pirouette. She leapt again and bowed on one foot, the other sticking far out behind her, only for her to bring it in and bend it and spin again on her single foot. She crossed a foot before her other foot and twirled and spun and leapt and flew, sweat beading in her black hair, knit carefully in a b

Saera tapped her stylus idly on the screen that was her desk. Her silver white eyes drifted absently over the blank canvas, dotted here and there by the black digital ink that the tip of her stylus produced. Her eyes grew half-lidded, and she sifted through the mostly-empty miasma of her current thoughts. A flicker came across her mind, then, and she began to write. A turning In and out, Over, over, Drifting, gazing But then her thoughts went dead, and the little inspiration

Marin went to her Ballet elective then, and Ardo went to Algebra, while Saera and Terry went to Theory of Knowledge. Ardo and Marin passed each other in the halls on the way to their respective classes, and they shot glares at each other as they went their separate ways. Saera and Terry passed an enjoyable hour in Theory of Knowledge, both of them relieved that there was not another speech on the Ravaging. After this, Ardo and Terry reunited in Photography. Terry was intrigu

The class continued, and then the bell rang, and it was done. Saera packed up her things next to him silently and efficiently, while Terry felt compelled to linger, slowly moving like he was caked in mud. His phone, his notebook, the books he was reading, they all slowly slipped into his backpack. Saera glanced over her shoulder at him, as she moved for the door. He caught her eyes just briefly, but then looked down again. It wasn’t a comfortable thing, meeting new people. No

“Now,” said Mr. Simeon, looking up from his screen, “this is Homeroom, where you’ll receive all your notices and assignments for your remaining classes of the day. We don’t have much of an agenda today, since it’s the first day of school, so we’ll just be cycling through some forms and permission files you’ll need to download and take home to your parents. They should already have their own copies by now, but you’ll need your version to have their electronic signatures.” Ma

Soft and gently came the green light shining, peering through the darkness. The green light, green digits, glowed gently, faintly, in the midst of the darkened room. Suddenly, like lightning from the sky, they brightened, and began to pulse. They flashed, and as they flashed, a chime, soft but insistent, issued through the air. It was calculated, precisely programmed, to drive a human mind from slumber. Saera’s eyes came open. She breathed out, a sigh, which filtered through