CHAPTER ONE: THE NOONDAY SURVIVOR

----------------------------------------

“Dad,” I nearly whispered into his room, quietly sliding the door open. I was embarrassed. This felt like the type of thing kids would have problems with. Not a full-grown adult! I felt a little stupid, but I didn’t know what else to do. I couldn’t stand it anymore. Kept having nightmares. If I didn’t talk to someone about it soon, I’d probably do something I’d regret.

So, I needed Dad’s help. But, talk to him? About this? God no.

David Meadows was shorter than me as of last year, but that had never made a difference. He was shorter than Mom too, but some people didn’t need height to be tall. He’d been putting on even more muscle lately, a result of his recent desire to stay fit. He had a wide face and perpetually squinting eyes, as if the world was always just a bit too bright. He wasn’t balding though, and his hair was as black as I could ever remember, even into his late forties.

He was busy in his bedroom when I entered, drawing even at this early hour of the morning. He was an artist by trade, and a ridiculously good one. For some reason, he never seemed to make as much money as I thought he deserved, but he’d always been content with what he did make. Mom was the real breadwinner in our house. Her doctorate made that understandable though.

“Hey Dad.” I called in a normal tone, surprised to find him awake. He normally slept right through Mom leaving and my breakfast and we wouldn’t see each other until I got home most of the time, but apparently something had made him wake up early today.

“Bran! Hey there, Noonday! I was hoping you would stop in before you left for school.”

“Ugh… don’t call me that…”

He was almost ready to say something else, but he paused as he looked up from his sketch pad through a pair of golden framed glasses.

“Why not! You–!” he started in worry at the sight of me. He had almost scratched his page. I must have looked worse than I thought. “Are you alright, Brandon?”

I stepped fully into the room. It was a luxurious master suite for most families, though still cozy. Soft brown carpeting matched the cherry wood furniture of the queen-sized bed, the dresser, the chest, and Dad’s desk which was offset into its own little cordon. Once upon a time, it would’ve been used to let light in, but that was before Fontaine’s Folly. Now it looked like a studio with an array of artificial lights shining down.

He instantly stood from his desk as I approached and put a hand to my forehead as if checking for a fever.

“I’m not feeling so good. Not sick; just can’t sleep,” I said, allowing him to be sure that it wasn’t a sickness that was bugging me. Well, at least not the flu, or a strep throat. “I haven’t felt very good for the past two weeks.”

He grimaced. “It’s still bothering you,” he stated. Not a question.

I nodded.

“This must really be eating you up, Bran,” He said worriedly. I used to be annoyed at the shortening of my name, but I guess it didn’t really matter anymore.

“There’s more to it than just Clara, Dad. Could I…?” Each word was a fight against embarrassment and social stigma, but this couldn’t go on. I just had to talk to someone,so I pressed forward. “Could I see a therapist?”

Dad blinked. Whatever he had been expecting, that hadn’t been it. I trusted him with everything, but somehow, I felt that if he knew I’d been having nightmares he’d lose respect for me. As if he couldn’t tell already. But that thin veneer of pretending that I just couldn’t sleep was enough to keep at least a little of my pride.

Nightmares. Are they nightmares if they’re about something you actually saw?

“You can’t tell me about it?” He asked. Therapy was expensive. It was hard to blame him, but I just couldn’t talk to him. My need for it to be a stranger was probably some latent psychological issue. Call it pride, I guess, but if I tried to talk to him, I knew what would happen. Dad would be beside himself to help with whatever he could, and in the end, he’d offer suggestions on how to fix the problem without listening. Mom? She’d… probably just tell me to get over it. Mom could be a cold woman.

Besides, we could afford it, and I needed to talk to someone… someone who didn’t know me. I thought I’d be able to get over the whole thing, but every time I tried, I couldn’t help but think it had been my fault. I’d seen a few little signs, hints of what was coming beforehand, but hadn’t been willing to believe them until the issue was shoved right in my face. Maybe it was the guilt that was causing these vivid dreams.

“I don’t think you can help with this one, Dad.” That wasn’t a dig at him. I truly didn’t think he could help. He’d never seen a girl melt alive in the sun before.

He stared at me for a long moment, and then nodded, putting down the thick wooden pencil which most of his drawings materialized from. “You’re not asking if you can go see the school counselor or something like that, are you? Someone professional. The nightmares are that bad?”

I flushed and scowled simultaneously.

“Not having nightmares.” An obvious lie. My dreams were bizarre but mostly centered around things that made me feel more guilty.

Dad only sighed and ran a hand through his dark hair.

“What she did isn’t your fault, Brandon,” he told me with finality. Dad had a brash personality. He gave me my space, but he made sure I knew he loved me. Even to the point of his own discomfort at times. It was only in this past year that I really felt like I’d earned his respect though. Maybe it was just my age, or maybe it was just how I’d gone out of my way to help him cut down the fallen trees out of Mrs. Kellerman’s yard after that storm over the summer. Whatever it was, there was a…difference. I didn’t want to lose that by whining about my dreams, and my lingering guilt.

I had to talk to someone, though.

“Money’s a little tight with your grandma’s nursing home bills just dropped in our lap, but I’ll see what I can do.” He laid a hand on my shoulder and gave me a smile. “If you do want to talk, your mother and I are always here though. Just keep us in mind, alright?”

Talking to Dad was unthinkable. Mom would’ve been even worse. Sure, she would’ve tried but in the end, she probably would just try to science me. I suppressed a shudder as I returned his smile. “Yeah, Dad. And I’ll help pay. Is… half okay?”

Dad’s eyes really did widen then. He reached out to my forehead again, this time with an eyebrow arched incredulously. I batted it away when I realized what he was doing. “Well, your forehead’s just fine but hell seems to have frozen over.”

“I…” I trailed off, not certain what I’d been about to say. I wanted to laugh. I really did, but the situation was too serious. He seemed to catch on quickly and smoothed the joke over.

“Don’t worry about it, Brandon,” he said soberly, joviality fading as he realized this wasn’t something to kid around about. “It might take some time, but I’ll look into some options, okay? The fact that you’re willing to pay anything makes me pretty sure you’re not joking about this.”

I wasn’t. If I could afford it, I’d pay every penny and not even tell Dad, but a part time job at a truck stop wasn’t going to be enough to cover it. I was barely managing to keep up on the car payments. I’d probably have to give up the MMOs for a while. That was for the best anyway. I needed to concentrate on my running.

I returned the smile. As I stepped out of the room, I told him softly, “Yeah, Dad. Thanks.”

I turned and stepped back out into the hallway, making for the kitchen when I heard the garage door begin to open or close. Mom was already going to work. Some friends of mine, Monroe and April, had always found it weird that Mom worked a regular seven to four while Dad stayed home all day, but I’d grown up that way. It had never felt odd to me.

I yawned, pouring myself a bowl of cereal. The house shook as Mom’s armored yacht of a vehicle pulled out and she left, almost causing me to spill the milk. I scowled, annoyed but there was no one to direct the feeling at.

I normally didn’t have enough time in the morning to eat breakfast. I was perpetually late, but my homeroom teacher, Mr. Bales, liked me enough that I could usually get away with being only a few minutes tardy.

He’d let me off skipping class entirely a few times over the past few weeks. No one blamed him. Even so, I didn’t like the pitying looks my friends had started giving me when they thought I wasn’t looking. The bags under my eyes were getting worse, but they shouldn’t be. I’d received nothing more than a few small burns.

Except it’s still bothering me two weeks later.

I ruthlessly shoved the thought away as I sat at the table and started eating my Cheerios.

“Morning…” The sound, more a groan than a word, filtered through lethargic lips from down the hallway.

The word was followed by the grumpy and disheveled form of Abigail, my younger sister. Her normally shining blonde hair was clumpy and frizzy mess, but she was gunning for the bathroom. I knew that within a half hour that hilarious mess of hair would shine like the moon.

“You seem cheerful,” I murmured. I probably looked even worse than she did.

“Nnngh… So’s your face,” was her intelligent reply. She didn’t even glance at me, eyes trained on the bathroom and the shower that would transform her from a wookie into a real person.

I grinned. I could always count on Gale to see me the same.

Gale was a freshman now, joining me in high school for only one year. I would graduate in May and be bound for Missouri State by September, especially if my track scholarship went through. With the way I was running lately though, that seemed more and more unlikely. I just hadn’t been able to sleep the same, and it was affecting my run times as well as my homework. Still, my family was relatively well off, so I’d still likely be going even without the scholarship.

I continued with the few more preparations I had left after breakfast. I showered, brushed my teeth, and shaved, though that might’ve been a waste of time.

When I was finally ready, I moved to grab my backpack from the floor of my bedroom before realizing that there was no reason yet. It was only five after seven, and class didn’t start for an hour and a half. I could make the bus if I wanted to. I didn’t, of course, but I could.

Gale took the bus as often as she rode with me. The bus was more reliable than I was but showing up in a car was cooler. If I were on time a little more often, I suspected she would never ride it. There was a stigma that came with needing to ride the bus, and a form of popularity that accompanied having friends or siblings who could drive you. Gale, surprisingly, cared more about her grades than her social standing though. She took being late more seriously than I did, and my habitual tardiness made her wary of riding with me.

I was up earlier than her for once, though, so she’d almost certainly go with me today. Ever since the Noonday thing, she’d been making excuses to be around me more often. Probably pitying me or worried about me. Something stupid like that.

Ugh, why is this bugging me so much? It wasn’t my fault!

I had to do something. Work off the restless energy still lingering from my dream. For a moment, I considered changing into slacks and going for a run on the treadmill but then I would undoubtedly be late. So, I was stuck in one of those limbo moments. Not enough time to start anything fun, but too much time to not feel bored.

I grabbed my backpack and made my way to the dining room table and turned it on, the display in the center lighting up with a blank tab from the browser. Maybe a few memes would cheer me up. Ten minutes later I shut the thing back off though. No new updates from any of my favorite channels and I was too lazy to try and find new sources of entertainment. Dry, dull, and boring all around. I glanced outside noting that the sun still hadn’t crested the horizon yet. It would be hot but maybe I could find something to do outside while I still had a few minutes.

Should be alright if I stick to the shade. It’s early yet.

I slid the thick door open and stepped out into the dry heat of early October. Damn. Today would be a scorcher. It had to be at least a hundred degrees and it wasn’t even seven yet. It felt quite good to me though.

Our yard was a great five-acre grassland on the outskirts of town, and a pain in the ass to keep mowed. Untouched Prairie stretched for miles beyond behind our property to the east, until it reached a thin line of trees on a tall hill. Our closest neighbors, the Daniels, lived behind those trees but we’d never dared cross the grasslands between those zones directly. Too many snakes, and too much chance to trip or get stuck out there. Getting stuck out overnight would be alright. During the day, that could easily be fatal.

Gale swore up and down that she saw a bug the size of a large dog once, and the Daniels’ youngest son, Matt, had been attacked by something when he’d wandered in there on a dare a few years ago.

That was more than enough for me to steer well clear. I’d stick to the lawn and roads.

Near the middle of our property was a big tree, one of the few old trees that still showed some green every winter. Most trees hadn’t adapted to the drastic climate change well, but our old one had. I liked to climb the thing in the early hours, or the late evening when it was safe. Something about the thrill of it. Especially since once I reached the top, I could see the Scorched Lands, far to the south.

I didn’t have time for anything like that this morning though. The sun was too close to rising. A thrill was one thing. Stupidity, quite another.

I wandered around the yard for a little while, just passing the time. Sweat beaded on my brow as the temperature slowly rose with the sun. I probably would have to go inside before eight. Still, I took my time and leaned against my favorite tree right off the driveway, taking solace in the shade the thick trunk and thicker leaf covering provided.

I grinned as I spotted a good four-foot-long stick on the ground and picked it up. For a few minutes I waved it around, laughing at the thought, and trying to pretend I didn’t want to beat the crap out of something with it. I stripped it of the growths and small twigs extending off it to make it as straight as I could before brandishing the thing at the tree it had fallen from.

I flung the stick around, pretending it was a sword, and struck at dead dandelion stems and low tree branches. It felt cathartic. Almost everything was a potential target, as long as it wasn’t green. I left the occasional patch of green grass alone. Those were rare and had to be preserved before they inevitably died under the harsh heat, or changed like some plants did in the sun these days.

I may as well have been in a trance. The dance, the feel of wooden grip, the sweat, and the adrenaline all mixed together with memories of fighting my best friend with sticks when we were both younger. He’d moved away a few years ago. His parents had been wealthy. Gale and I had always called them ‘richers’ behind their backs. Turned out, that wealth let them move to Minnesota, or maybe even Canada. We’d fallen out of touch since then.

After that, Mom got her job at Tellroan and suddenly we were the richers. But we weren’t going anywhere. We were staying right here in West Steppe. Soon to be one of the safest places in the world.

My grip on the stupid stick tightened, wishing that this place was already safe. Maybe if it had been…

“You’re weird, Bran,” Gale’s voice shocked me out of my thoughts, and I dropped the stick. Just like that the spell of amusement and the grim thoughts both vanished as if they had never been. Sheepishly, I tried to come up with an excuse, but my mind was blank. Yes. I was weird. And getting weirder by the day.

“Stop horsing around! It’s time to go!” She shouted from the doorway, waving her hand in her face to alleviate the already intense heat. Her hair had been transformed almost by magic from a witch’s tangle to the straight thin locks of a princess. She still sounded like the witch though. “You’re going to be on time for once if we leave now! Plus, the sun is almost up!”

I stuck my tongue out at her. Childish, maybe, but she was a child, so it was fine. She didn’t react, and instead, slammed the door behind her as she turned back inside the house. I walked back towards the door, grumbling as I realized I’d probably need another shower.

Fifteen minutes later, my sister and I sat on the cozy and not-at-all sunburned seats of my Chevy Meridian. One of the newest cars at school and, even though Dad was helping me pay half the car payment each month, it was not easy on my savings.

When I’d started driving Gale to school with me though, Mom had insisted, and really, who was I to turn down assistance with paying for a top of the line vehicle? I suppose there was some comfort in knowing I was the least likely student in the school to have a breakdown. When a vehicle breakdown or a flat tire out in the country could mean death, that was a big deal.

When we pulled out of the garage, the sun was already blazing hot. The light reflecting through the glass was scalding for a moment before the auto-dampeners kicked in and the AC blasted us, as usual. Gale shivered as the temperature went from hot to chilled almost instantly but I only grinned at her discomfort. I was wearing a sweatshirt in preparation for the cool air conditioning. God, I loved my car.

The strange haze from burning tar and sizzling street-tops in the distance blurred the road just a little. The sun baked country had long since dried the trees until the regular ones only grew green in the deepest of winter. I could remember a time when they were supposed to be green in summer, but I’d barely been old enough to write then. Gale didn’t remember at all.

The occasional cactus and quite a few small palm trees dotted the road. Their leaves and some patches of grass were the only color to offset the dead yellow of the prairie and the pitch black of the road.

I drove fast, edging upwards of fifty miles per hour once I got onto Baker Street. Idle tires could pop if left on that baking ground for too long once the sun rose. Best to keep moving. I knew all the rules by now though.

We drove in relative silence, Gale playing with the mirror and some sort of eye liner or mascara or something. I didn’t pay much attention to that sort of thing and had instead settled into the rhythm of diving. It was only about a twenty-minute drive into the Hub anyway.

As we passed the few traffic lights that still hung, forever unlit, I wondered what it was like for people like my Mom and Dad who remembered when they were still in use? I laughed a little at the thought. How weird would it be to need to turn left? Roads no longer allowed it, because stopping was risky. You had to keep constantly moving, so the roads had been redesigned at least here in Missouri, to allow a ceaseless flow of traffic. There were still a few dangerous places where you had to cut across other traffic but none on my route, nor any route that was regularly upkept.

I was so distracted by my musings about the world that I jumped when I noticed Gale looking at me sharply.

“Are you okay, Brandon?” the girl asked, pointedly.

I sighed in exasperation. “You too?”

“Yeah, me too,” she said as if admitting to a fault. “We’re worried. Everyone is. Even my friends at school are worried about you.”

I felt irrationally annoyed for some reason. I’d watched a girl’s face melt off. Not someone I’d known well, or even really talked to much, but she was still an acquaintance, and she’d nearly died. Right in front of me. She was still in the hospital, still burned and hurting, and for some reason everyone was worried about me.

“They should be worried about Clara. I’m alright, Gale. I’m fine even,” I lied. It ate at me that I hadn’t even noticed the girl’s troubles until it was too late. I had always prided myself on knowing people. I loved talking, being social and having a huge group of friends. I was proud to say that I’d had friends in almost every ‘clique’ in the school.

I had been proud to say that. The thought felt hollow, now.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

If I’d only gotten to know her a little better, maybe I could’ve…

No. There was no point in thinking of ‘what ifs.’ What was done, was done. All I could do was hope she managed to get better and try to be there for her if she did.

“You’re acting different. You don’t talk as much. You stopped visiting us during your free hour,” she insisted. Her voice went lower, conspiratorial. “I’d even heard you yelled at Haley.”

I grimaced. I’d intended to pay them a visit today, but she was right. I hadn’t stopped by. I’d been spending my free hour alone, trying to think of ways I could’ve helped Clara beforehand, or avoiding my friends. Brooding, basically. Last Tuesday I actually did homework, just to try and stop thinking about it.

Maybe Gale does have reason to be worried.

Then, the name my sister had used registered, and I narrowed my eyes, glaring at the road and seething, annoyed for an entirely more justified reason.

“Haley is a bitch. I’m ashamed I ever liked her,” I said succinctly, trying to make the partial lie into a truth in my mind. She was one of the most beautiful girls I’d ever met. Apparently, being pretty was enough to make her think she was better than everyone else. I’d avoided her for almost a week now and she still didn’t know why. I didn’t even want to talk to her anymore. The one time I had been forced to speak to her, I hadn’t been able to hide my anger. Apparently, word had gotten around.

“Really? What did she do? She’s always seemed really nice to me,” Gale asked, surprised.

“I always thought so too. It’s an act. Overheard her talking with some of her friends just before the Clara thing,” I told my sister as I made another slow right turn, merging into the flowing traffic with ease. “What Clara did is probably Haley’s fault.”

I wanted to drop the subject.

“Really? Dang…”

I tried to turn my thoughts to happier things and chuckled as I spotted our school bus two cars ahead of me. Its massive metal roof and thick layered tires, along with special tinted windows and a coating shell that could be deployed whenever the driver wanted made it one of the few vehicles able to handle a breakdown even in noonday heat.

More importantly, if we were right with the bus then we’d definitely be on time today!

“Real good act,” Gale murmured, glancing at one of the many banners for team spirit and sportsmanship that Haley had been in charge of making as we drove past, hanging on the side of an old gas station.

I wasn’t paying attention anymore though as we turned around the next bend onto Main Street. I stared hard beyond the treeline and was just barely able to make out the enormous structure in the distance.

The Tellroan Industrial Power Plant was due for activation this coming month. After ten years of construction it was finally going to be turned on. If estimates were right, it should be enough to handle the power needs for an area the size of a state. Maybe more.

If it worked as they said it would, it would save thousands of lives, too.

The tower was a great silver monolith. It was miles outside the town but that hardly mattered. As long as there wasn’t a woods or a hill in the way you could glimpse it from a hundred miles. Towering as tall as some of the world’s largest mountains, its height defied the imagination. It was a new form of energy powered by the sun, and Sunsoul. Tellroan was the fourth in the United States, and its energy output and simultaneous ability to protect all who lived within its reach would make all other forms of electricity, as well as most forms of sun protection, obsolete.

It was incredible, but I’ve been told it wasn’t even the most amazing one. That honor belonged to the first tower they had abandoned deep within the desert. Old Texas. The Scorched Lands had swallowed it before it could be completed though.

Tellroan was the fourth of seven major powerplants, but each tower connected to thousands of other, smaller poles in the surrounding area. Usually the poles were made from converted telephone poles, but each of these fixtures would act as hubs for a massive energy dome, that would cover the areas around them for hundreds of miles. They would absorb sunlight. They would make the world right again, and already had in some of the more northern areas of the country. Some of the older folks even joked that they’d get to move back to Arkansas, or even Florida. Mom had told me directly that Arkansas might be possible but Florida was well outside even the most optimistic estimates for Tellroan alone.

I was still thinking about it ten minutes after I’d lost sight of the tower and was pulling into the great seven story garage that hosted the students who could drive to school. I lucked out in parking, managing to get a spot on the third floor today rather than the seventh where they tended to park the overflow students who didn’t make it on time. I never understood that. If you were late, they made you later by forcing you to park further away. That had always seemed stupid to me, but that was probably because I was perpetually late.

My sister and I left the car. She winced a little at the wash of heat that accompanied the step back into the parking lot, but for some reason, I didn’t even feel it anymore.

Man. Maybe there really is something to those stupid rumors. It almost feels pleasant here. Did they really install AC in the parking garage?

“Hey, I’m going home with Stacy and Odette tonight so you don’t have to worry about me, okay?” Gale said in a way that was less a question and more informing me how things were going to be.

“Does–?”

“Dad knows,” she cut me off. “I’m not stupid.”

“Just making sure. Dad’ll kill me if I leave you here again, and Mom will probably throw me straight into the noonday sun!” I joked.

She looked at me oddly, then snickered and pointed at a newspaper rack on the wall. “Well that’s not so scary for you, anymore right?”

The paper boasted a good picture of me fresh from my brush with death, skin burned and bubbled. It was captioned: “Brandon Meadows: The Noonday Survivor.”

I groaned. “Dammit. Gavin’s article made it into the actual newspaper!? Jeez… The guy has been practically begging me to talk about it all this week!”

Gale flicked one of her long strands of hair idly out of her eye. “Might not be about the article. Maybe he has a crush on you. He does like guys after all.”

I shrugged. “Nah, I don’t think so. He’s just milking the story for funding, but what happened was sheer luck. If he keeps printing this soon someone’s going to try to walk out there. I was lucky.”

Beyond lucky. I still don’t understand how I’m alive, let alone Clara.

“Besides, I’m pretty sure he likes that George kid from L Division anyway,” I commented idly.

Gale eyed me with a glint of mischief in her eye. “You keep track of who he likes?”

I flushed. Such a wicked tongue my little sister had developed. “He tried to get me and… Haley,” saying her name was almost physically painful. “To go on a double date with them about a month ago. We actually went but George didn’t even realize Gavin was trying to flirt. It was a little sad.”

Gale laughed a little at that. “Only you, Bran. Only you.”

The bridge that crossed the street into the school was a great stone thing, lined with more of Haley’s banners and plenty of others, though no windows to let in the dangerous sunlight. Our school was a big one that served pretty much the entire local area and held something like three thousand students this year.

Every one of us capable of driving had to walk into the school across on one of three huge bridges on the second floor. My sister and I stepped onto the middle bridge along with a horde of other students, most of which I didn’t know.

“Holy shit. Brandon?” came the voice of a pudgy boy with acne covering most of his face. He was coming up behind us and walking at a quick clip. Monroe Mills was a bit of a bookworm and a band geek. Still one of my best friends, but sometimes his nasally tone could get tiresome.

The boy glanced dramatically at his wrist, looking at a watch that wasn’t there, and then back at me. Back at his wrist again.

“Nah.” He breathed. “Figment of my imagination. There’s no way you’re here this early.”

I rolled my eyes. Okay. So, I was late pretty often. That was no reason to go making lame gags about it.

“He’s right. This is practically a blue moon for you Brandon,” Gale commented helpfully. I glowered at her, but she didn’t seem intimidated in the slightest. In fact, she grinned a little smugly as if she’d scored a point in a game I wasn’t aware of.

Monroe shared a laughing nod with my sister, and I directed my glare back at him. It had equally little effect.

“Well, I’m off to class. See you later tonight ‘Brutha’!” Gale said before walking off on her own. She was quickly lost in the deluge of people squirming into the bridge’s entryway.

“So, Noonday, how’ve you been? Saved any more damsels in distress since yesterday?” Monroe baited.

I decided to ignore the nickname that people had taken to calling me lately. I imagined it would get even worse now that there was an actual article about it.

“Only two.” I replied as we fell into step to get into the school. “The pizza girl from Little Caesar’s and your mom.”

He chuckled, hollowly, trying not to look affronted.

Crap.

“Err… sorry,” I said slowly, realizing the joke had been in bad taste. This was one of those subtle things I’d come to know about Monroe over time but never really pried into. His parents were fighting. A lot lately. The jokes at her expense weren’t so funny when he was worried that they might get a divorce any day.

“Ah, don’t worry about it,” he said, avoiding my eyes. There was a hard glint in them that told me I probably would’ve needed to worry about it, if I hadn’t apologized. Monroe wasn’t exactly intimidating but that was probably because no one had ever seen him get angry. I did not want to be the first.

“Plans for the weekend?” I asked to change the subject.

He gave me a bland look. “Well, Saturday’s already going to suck. The Tower’s activation is happening that day and my Dad wants me to be there. Mom, of course, doesn’t want to go. It’ll probably last for half the night, but if I’m lucky they’ll let me slip out early.”

“Dude, that’s awesome! You get to be there? Trade you.”

Monroe waved it away. “Meh, I’d much rather be reading. Or going to Haley’s party. She plans on having a rooftop viewing an–!”

I snarled. “Dude. Don’t go to that. Don’t have anything to do with that two-faced bitch.”

“Man, you’re pissed at her. Did she cheat on you or something? I don’t remember you ever holding a grudge for this long.” He commented idly. “Besides, it’s not like I’d be going there for her. Florence wants to go.”

I sighed but didn’t really know what to say. What to do. What Haley had been saying to Clara had disgusted me, but at the same time I’d dated her for a few months, kind of. Telling anyone she was sort of responsible for what Clara had done might get the girl expelled. Well. Probably not. Everyone liked Haley. But the point was, I couldn’t bring myself to throw her under the bus, no matter how much she deserved it.

I wouldn’t be caught dead kissing her again though. The thought made me gag a little.

“She’s… just not who I thought she was.” I said a little mournfully.

A bully. A monster behind a pretty face.

“Seems like a bit more than that, but alright,” Monroe said, dropping the subject. “Hey if you want to come along Saturday, that would be awesome. It’s gonna be boring but having you along might at least make it seem like I’m not wasting the entire day. Also, seeing the tower light up from right there at ground zero might be cool.”

I shrugged. “You should invite Florence. I’m pretty sure she likes you. She might say yes. Either way, I’ll see if I can come. Don’t think my mom is going to let me though. She seems to want us to actually avoid the plant.”

“That’s weird. Isn’t she like, CEO of Tellroan or something? I’d think she’d want you to be there to witness the activation.” His voice suddenly lapsed into sarcasm.

“Co-Chief Executives Manager. CCEM. She’s up there but like, not even in the big boardroom meetings,” I replied, defensively. I’m pretty sure I was lying too.

Mom was… important at Tellroan, and that had a weird impact on me. I was touchy about how close to rich we were. Growing up, we had mostly been broke. I remember when Mom was managing a small business that was barely keeping afloat and spending more than a few nights with grandma while we were freaking homeless. I was pretty young at the time, but it’s not hard to remember a straight week of instant ramen dinners because we didn’t have a paycheck coming in till Friday. Being made fun of for wearing sewed-to-fit versions of dad’s clothes. Worse, I remember making fun of my best friend for his “gold plated skateboard with the twenty- inch rims.” Now he’d moved north, and I was the one who got those jokes. Mom had been at Tellroan for five years now and I still wasn’t used to it. Having lots of money wasn’t a bad thing, but the drastic difference between my childhood and now crept up in weird ways sometimes. For example: my car was that skateboard these days.

“Sure, she’s not, man. Sure, she’s not,” Monroe replied good naturedly. “So… what does that title actually mean? I mean, what’s she do?”

This conversation already had the practiced feel of a well-fitting baseball mitt. Monroe had asked before and I’d told her how little I knew. This conversation would be no different and we both knew it.

We made it across the bridge, our words swallowed by a hundred other conversations as we entered the second floor’s main hallway. Lockers. Lockers as far as the eye could see! Mine and Monroe’s happened to be relatively close together this year, so we continued in the same direction as I began the traditional response.

“She’s one of the directors who works under the head of Research and Development. Whatever that means. Honestly, I’ve got no idea what she does there. Researches shit I guess,” I joked.

It was a long running gag between our Dad, Gale, and I, that Mom built laser guns. As far as I knew, she didn’t but she did have a green laser pointer on her keychain that actually stung when she used it. She’d always respond with jokes that her work was above our pay-grade. Sometimes though, she’d get this almost-guilty look that made me pretty sure she wasn’t joking.

The halls had a brown and tan tiled floor pattern, and stark white drywall with AC vents running along the upper corners. The second floor was exactly the same as the first and third, each with classrooms splitting off, and each lined with painted orange lockers in every spare nook. Each hallway continued on to form a nearly perfect square building.

I was a senior, so this year I almost had more room in my locker than I knew what to do with.

Senior privileges, baby!

I opened it as Monroe continued to his locker around the corner. I was tugging off my backpack and changing the books I’d need for the day out with a few that I wouldn’t when I felt someone approach from behind me.

“So. Haley says you’ve been ignoring her. Why?” a girl’s voice demanded in a flat tone that commanded all the vaunted authority the top of the school’s popularity chain could afford a girl.

Brenda. Haley’s best friend. I’d always thought she was snobby, and a bit of a chore. I’d never understood how such a sweet girl like Haley could stand to be around her for more than a few minutes. I remembered assuming that maybe Brenda was a nice person under all the prickly thorns. Maybe once I got to know her better, I’d find the good person Haley saw underneath. Turned out, Haley and she were a perfect fit. Brenda was just more honest.

Brenda was dark-haired, fit but not muscled, and naturally slender in a way that few women could ever hope to be. Her middle eastern descent made her exotic, but she’d been raised entirely in America, and had almost none of her parents’ accent. She was nearly an expert on several musical instruments and even I had to admit that she could play a piano like no one I’d ever heard. She was almost as good with a violin. It had been one of the few things about her that had been tolerable while spending time with Haley. Most the time when she’d been around, I’d just wanted her to go away.

Now was no different.

“Because I don’t like her anymore. Never really liked you,” I said simply.

“So, you’re cheating on her,” She insinuated with a conniving grin. “High on all the hero worship, Noonday, you decided to cheat on your girlfriend. That sound, about right?”

I cocked an eyebrow, unintimidated, and lazily bated, “Is that what the rumors say?”

“They will soon enough, if you don’t shape up. Honestly, I don’t know why Haley puts up with a little rugrat like you.”

I scowled. Okay. So being taller than my dad didn’t exactly make me tall, and maybe I was annoyed that Brenda had height on me. That was no reason for her to go rubbing it in.

“So… what? You’re blackmailing me? Besides Haley and I were never dating anyway. She never said yes.”

Now I wouldn’t want her to.

“Ugh. You’re such an idiot! She likes you, you dumbass. Why would you go and screw up something like that? Who could you possibly want more than her? I mean yeah, girls have been throwing themselves at you lately with the Clara thing, but seriously!”

“Ever think that maybe I just don’t like her? That Clara thing? Yeah. I found out who she was. Who you are. And I didn’t like what I saw,” I said with a glare.

She stiffened, suddenly wary, as if realizing I held more cards than she did.

“It… was just some harmless pranks,” she admitted, hesitantly.

“Yeah. Harmless. Clearly.” I said with all the venom I could muster.

Brenda closed herself off, wilting into an expression I’d never seen on her face before. Remorse?

“Look, we played some pranks but nothing that would make her want to try to… to…”

“I heard you talking to her that day. Why did you think I followed her to the doors in the first place? The things you girls said were disgusting, and they made me sick. Haley, made me sick. I followed Clara, wanting to see if she was alright. For the record!? She wasn’t!”

“Yeah, but they were just jokes! They weren’t supposed to… she wasn’t supposed to…”

I shrugged a little uncomfortably. So, Brenda did feel a little guilty. Maybe not a complete monster then. That was a step in the right direction at least.

“Jokes can hurt, Brenda. Especially if that was going on for half as long as I think it was. Not that you’d know, sitting up on your pedestal,” I sighed. Clara’s decision to carelessly step outside at noon probably wasn’t all Haley’s little clique’s fault. I imagined there were plenty more factors in why the girl had done something so insane. Suicide by Sun. God, what a gruesome choice…

Brenda flinched, now entirely on the backfoot. I’d never seen her look so uncomfortable. “Look… I feel bad about what Clara did. We all do. What we probably helped along. But we wouldn’t have done anything like that if we’d known she needed fucking suicide watch!”

“Oh, but if she hadn’t then it would’ve been okay?”

“No! That’s… I didn’t say that!” She barked, affronted.

“But would it have gone on, Brenda? Shit, it was only luck that I happened to overhear and followed her. She’d be dead – dead – if I hadn’t! And you have the nerve to feel bad?”

I slammed my locker to punctuate my words, and she flinched. A couple people had actually noticed how angry I was, and who I was angry at. Whispers were echoing around me and I grimaced. “Just tell Haley and all of your friends to leave me alone. I don’t want anything to do with you.”

She certainly looked chastened.

“You’re… not going to tell anyone, are you?”

I snarled, and the girl squeaked. Actually squeaked.

What a selfish little…!

“You’re lucky I don’t have Gavin fucking print it!” I hissed, but at her horrified expression I relented with a sigh. I was angry, not an asshole. “No. Your dirty little secret is safe, unless I hear even a whisper of you picking on some other poor girl. Or boy for that matter. You’re like freaking queens of this school. Top of the chain, teachers practically dying to help you with anything you could want, and scholarships lined up for Ivy Leagues, right? With all that power, this is what you chose to do with it?”

“Like I said, it wasn’t supposed to get that bad. I like Clara, even if she is a little… weird. We were just doing a little sanctioned hazing. That and what she did to Haley’s Dad... If you knew the full story–!”

“Come with me after school to visit her today then. Look at the burns that she still has and try to keep telling yourself that!” I snapped. With that, I flung my backpack over one shoulder and strode around the shocked girl, leaving her standing there. She stayed there for a while, staring blankly at my locker before turning in the other direction.

Monroe was at the end of the hall, staring at me like I’d grown a second head.

“Dude, what was that all about?” Monroe asked, falling into step beside me. “You do realize you just yelled at like, the hottest girl in school, right? What the fuck did they do man? You can’t hold out on me like this.”

Brenda did feel guilty, but how different would that conversation have been if I hadn’t overheard them two weeks ago? If I hadn’t made a split-second decision to follow Clara out into the sun?

Would I have even noticed?

Weeks later it was still bothering me. Watching her skin seem to melt under the blaze and knowing that I must’ve looked the same. I shuddered and cast the memory out of my mind. I didn’t know. I didn’t want to know. By all rights we should both be dead.

“It’s… personal.” I told him. If there was anyone I couldn’t tell, it was Monroe. Good friend that he was, he had a long history of failing to keep secrets.

He seemed hesitant, as if he wanted to press the issue, but he dropped it in the end. I was glad he did. I probably would’ve snapped at him.

“Well, come on then. I want to see Mr. Bales’ expression when he realizes you’re on time,” Monroe said with only marginally faked enthusiasm.

I scowled, good naturedly this time. Seriously though. Weren’t these jokes getting old?

“Really, I’m not that bad,” I said, bemused.

“Sure, you’re not!” he joked as we continued down the hall.

----------------------------------------