Kazin

Every day is such a droll.

Wake up, school, work, then home. Wake up, school, work, then home. Sprinkle onto it a bit of being picked on, and you have the wonderful concoction that is my life in the city. What even is the point to all of this?

I stand in the convenience store aisle and stare lazily at the choices in front of me: ramen, hot dogs, sandwiches, cakes. Dad will bring dinner when he's finished with work, like he always does, but I'm usually too hungry after my own part-time job to wait for him to get home without a small snack to keep my hunger at bay.

It's only been a couple of months since I moved here to the city with Dad, for his job. I had to leave everything behind--my friends, my school, my life.

But honestly, not that I mind that much. I didn't really like any of the people back home anyways. We hung out, got along mildly, but it was obvious that I wasn't really like them. But it's a feeling that's a little hard to explain, because it wasn't like I was totally unable to fit in. I felt more like a moth fluttering among butterflies, for example. They fly, are somewhat the same sort of animal, but are inherently different by nature. I guess what I'm trying to say is that I don't mind being alone.

I sigh and choose the cup ramen like I always do--tonkotsu flavor, my favorite kind. It's also the most savory and home-meal-like of the available choices. It reminds me of Mom in a way.

The bell overhead rings as I make my way out of the convenience store. Sometimes I like the sounds of the city, but tonight isn't one of those times. I stick my earbuds in and stroll down the alleyway, right into the midst of the neon jungle that is the habitat of those who revel in the nightlife of Handata City--the abode of the night crawlers who come and intoxicate themselves in order to forget the drone of mundane existence and dope their minds so that they can stumble into tomorrow.

I nod my head in time with the heavy beats playing in my earphones. Through my feet, I can feel the thumping bass from nearby clubs and bars. Hovercars float lazily past me, on the hunt for the hottest place to party. I walk into the crowded junction where five roads meet, past bright billboards of flashing colors and lights. There's an advertisement playing on all twenty of the overhead screens--the Nexus Lottery has reached new heights--one billion links, only the fifth time in history to surpass that amount. I've never played in my life, and I don't really mean to either. But it's kind of fun to imagine what I'd do with that kind of luxury. Maybe a new mansion in a sky tower, or a hypercar that gets priority in the hoverlanes.

The one in the advert is Shalla Norix, a social media star who skyrocketed to fame not too long ago. Watching her rise was an unreal experience. She now has almost one billion followers. Rumor has it that she used to attend the same high school that I do now--Minzyu Secondary School, or MSS. My friend Heyla apparently is friends with her (or so she claims).

As I stroll down the street and turn out of the main district where all the liveliness is going on, the streets suddenly turn dark and calm. The quietness is a presence all its own, something to which my ears must adapt. This aspect of the city has always been jarring for me--it's so interesting how the chaos never spills past where it's already contained, like it knows exactly where it's tolerated and where it's not. Soon, I see our small, brick complex in between two larger ones of concrete. I jangle out my keys and get ready to climb the flight of steps to the door.

A nervous pit forms in my stomach when I see a bunch of guys and girls sitting at the bottom stair. I know them from school. They're a rowdy bunch, the type of people who are prone to making fun of everyone and hurling insults at anyone who happens to cross their paths, whether that person is a teacher or student, or even just a passerby. Your existence is a crime in their presence--there's no avoiding their jeers.

But not all of them are like that. There's Dariv and Vorin, two guys I met at orientation who were actually pretty nice. I found out we had a lot of interests in common, like the VR game World of Melcophy, or reading web comics. Dariv and Vorin are tall and good-looking though, and they got mixed in with that crowd during the first week of school.

Then there's Aya and Milara and Vyvani, three girls who live above, below, and across the hall from me. When Dad and I were moving into our place, the three girls were extremely helpful and kind. We ran into them in front of the office, and they told us it was closed. They gave us a lot of important information about the neighborhood, like what eateries we should frequent because those restaurants gave freebies to their regulars. When I first saw the three girls congregating with that group, I could not believe my eyes.

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

As I approach the stairs, Sangsum, the worst of the bunch, begins jutting his jaw in my direction. He's holding a bottle of whiskey in one hand, a seltzer water in the other. He has mean eyes, filled with taunting, and a smile that could cut through steel. I keep my eyes glued to the asphalt. I click the volume up on my cTab until I think my eardrums will burst. Just because I know what's coming doesn't mean I have to see or hear it thrown my way.

I hear a burble of noise on the outskirts of my music. I try not to make it too obvious that I'm walking a bit faster than I normally would. I nearly bump into Sangsum's chest at the very first stair. I stop in my tracks and look up at him. He's smiling, and he taps his ears. When I don't do anything, his skinny minion, Jerim, comes and yanks my right earbud out and tosses it onto the ground.

"We're talking to you, shrimp," Jerim says, close to my face. I cringe at the hot air that dampens my ear. I steal a look at Jerim, and I want to scream at him, but I can't. I purse my lips instead.

"He's not just dumb, he's deaf too," Sangsum coos. "I'll never know why someone like Heyla is friends with you." He gives my shoulder a hard shove. From how violently he does it, I know he's drunk. "What, are you rich or something?" he continues. "You pay her to be your friend?" He's smiling, but the clenched teeth betray the undertones of bitterness in his voice.

"No, I'm not rich," I say.

"Let him go, Sangsum," Dariv interjects. He laughs while he says it--I know it's to shield himself from potential repercussions later. "He ain't done anythin' to you."

"You his friend or something?" Sangsum demands, swinging around in annoyance. "Why're you taking his side?"

Dariv shrugs. "I ain't never said that."

"Come on, then," Jerim says, kicking my knees from behind, causing me to topple to the ground. "Answer him. You pay her or something? For a bit of friendship? Maybe something better?" Sangsum's lackeys keep laughing, while sipping at their makeshift highballs in seltzer water bottles.

I look over the group, especially at the ones I know--Dariv and Vorin, Aya and Milara and Vyvani. I know they were never really my friends, but I can't help but feel an inkling of betrayal that they merely spectate my misery and don't act. Only Dariv stood up for me, if it could even be called that. They avoid my gaze deliberately, all except for Vyvani. The look in her eyes is one of defiance, a brash announcement that she refuses to feel any guilt for what's being done to me; that all she's doing is surviving, and that she can't be blamed for that. Better you than me, her eyes seem to be telling me.

As I'm sitting there silently, hoping for it all to eventually end like a passing storm, I suddenly feel a heavy thud on my head, followed by a sharp pain. It's not enough to level me, but it surprises me enough so that I look up, speechless. Sangsum has just jabbed me in the head with his whiskey bottle.

He cackles and cackles, and he tells his friends of how much of a weakling I am, of how stupid I am, of my uselessness. I listen to it all, and a part of me whispers that he's not wrong. I am useless, just sitting here, taking it all, not standing up for myself.

I wait for it all to pass, and eventually they get bored of me sitting there quietly, doing nothing but staring at the asphalt. I give them no reactions: no anger, no sadness, no annoyance, nothing but me and myself, locked in my thoughts.

"Let's get out of here," a tall girl named Winzi says, flicking at her hair with her fingers. "I'm bored." Rumor has it that she's already signed to be a model after graduation. Sangsum chooses his friends and displays them like trophies. Anybody who is not a somebody is a nobody to him. Maybe that’s why he hates that I’m friends with Heyla—the one that evaded his grasp.

"How are you so bland, that even making fun of you gets boring?" Parkim groans. Parkim's a kid with broad shoulders and a mop of black hair. He thinks he's a mythological god reincarnated, but he's as dumb as an ox. "What a loser. What else did we expect from someone with such a deadbeat dad?"

I nearly look up at him then. It infuriates me that he dares say anything about my dad. How much of an arrogant bastard do you have to be to insult someone's parents? But then I remember that they're just beginning to get bored of me, and that it'll all end soon, so I keep my head down.

Eventually they all saunter off, and I'm left by myself. Their voices disappear into the distance, swallowed by the nightlife cacophony. I grab my earbud, pick myself up off the ground, and head up the stairs. I climb the steps to the fifth floor of the complex and shuffle down the hallway. I fumble for my keys and unlock the door and step into the musty air of my home.

It's dark, as always. Dad's not home. I heat water in the kettle for my ramen. I make my way to the balcony. I look out the window, out at the luminescence of the lights that seem to make even the air around them glow. Neon city, neon trees. Little people filling the streets below, like small parts turning the gears of the city. There's no wind tonight, and the weather's nice. Despite it all, I like my life. When Dad gets home, he'll bring fried chicken too--Wednesday is fried chicken day. Then we'll eat that together, and life will be alright again. I'll forget all about Sangsum and Jerim and Parkim. It won't bother me that Vorin and Dariv, Aya, Milara, and Vyvani were all so complacent in what their overlords were doing to me.

I hear the lock on the front door click. Dad's home, I think.