Chapter II

Chapter II

Two high school seniors sat on a bench, reflecting on existence. To the right, gazing at the floor, sat Paul. To his left sat Georgia, squinting uneasily at the sun.

She’d gone outside at 3 sharp. After taking Orwell’s government-made standardized test, she was officially done with school, and could not wait to leave it. But at the same time, a disbelieving tiny voice in her head whispered ‘Next September, you’ll be back. Monday after Monday until June. Cometh Summer, then September. And it all starts all over again. So it goes’.

She’d spent so much time complaining about school, declaring how glad she’d be that it was over, and gotten so used to the whole ordeal, that when the long-awaited moment finally came she hardly believed it. Georgia, in her wait for the end of school had likened her plight to that of Gogo and Didi waiting for Godot. Waiting for the impossible.

It was like believing in unicorns. Everyone knew they didn’t exist. Yet people seemed to really enjoy believing in them. In Georgia’s case, she’d believed in unicorns. Waited. And waited. Oddly enough, waiting for something that you knew would never show up had a sort of magic of its own. In her own way, she waited happily, never expecting the real flesh-and-blood one horned white horse with magic powers to actually show up.So when it did, all Georgia wanted to do was axe it. She felt terrible about it, but while a part of her jumped up and down in pure joy, another cowered in a corner and threatened violence to anything that would disrupt the natural order of her life until then.

I am a paradox on legs, she thought. Why don’t I ever make any sense? And why am I still asking myself that question? Aren’t the hormones of adolescence supposed to be gone already? In the midst of this it struck her. What was really wrong. Not only had she nearly ran into a wall in the midst of her reverie, Mom seemed to be running late.

It was then that she had spotted her friend Paul, sitting on a bench. Probably listening to outdated teen angst beats. My Chemical Romance. Fall Out Boy. Green Day. That kind of tunes. He took out one earbud as she sat down in front of him. “The Kids from Yesterday” blared through the discarded earbud.

And now this could be the last of all rides we take

So hold on tight and don’t look back

We don’t care about the message or the rules they make

We’ll find you when the sun goes black

And you only live forever in the lights you make

When we were young we used to say

That you only hear the music when your heart begins to break

Now we are the kids from yesterday

Jeez, thought Georgia, that is some A plus timing. With graduation taking place the next day, this certainly could be one of the last, if not the last conversation she had with him.

“ ‘The unexamined life is not worth living’. Socrates said it. So it must be true”, Paul pondered sleepily. He then casually swept a hand through his black hair that looked like a mop, as he barely bothered to attend it. Paul barely bothered to attend anything at all. He was ruggedly handsome, with thick black hair that stuck upwards, comprehensive black eyes, and a black stub on his chin. But his cynical and often impossible personality often made people think twice about approaching him. And lately, Paul seemed to have forgotten himself; his hair lay lifeless in a mop, his eyes lacked the zeal they had once had, and his stub had become a beard that covered half his face. Yet, despite his commodity, Paul was not a stupid person. He could not help thinking, and sometimes his thoughts got leaked into his speech. But these passive musings led to nothing, due to his characteristic tendency to not bother. His companion and closest friend, Georgia knew these musings, and often wisely ignored them. But, as she herself was an intelligent human being with plenty of brains, and lacking Paul’s commodity, now replied to these musings. Besides, if this was her last conversation with him, she wanted to make it worth it.

“Yet you don’t examine anything in this statement…”, she spoke slowly, emphasizing on the word anything as she drove her sentence forwards.

“Are you really going to question one of the figurehead philosophers of all time?” Paul asked, despite himself, and looking slightly dismayed. Oh, why can’t she just let things go? Paul, not usually one to pray, now did fervently so that the lord might spare him of another long discussion that was more akin to a medieval battle than an orderly objective discussion between two legal adults. Being of drinking age doesn’t make us adults, now does it? And at eighteen, we are still technically teenagers… he thought.

“Of course, I think Socrates would have wanted me to question him. If I don’t, then my life won’t be worth living, or will it?” Georgia jested back. This time her voice rang clear and ran over the words with uncharacteristic security. She knew she had him, and wasn’t letting go anytime soon. Her eyes shone with intensity and ingenuity. Challenge me, they seemed to implore, make me feel alive. However, just as creative problem solving and an insatiable thirst for knowledge were her life force, convention and parties had become his.

A car horn interrupted them. Paul’s father stuck his head out. He looked exactly like his son, save for the fact that he cared quite a lot about his appearance. Being a lawyer, he staunchly believed that appearances has as much importance as words when it came to the ancient art of persuasion.

“Well, well, if it isn’t my son Paul and his best friend George. Wow, how you two have grown” he greeted them, “Paul here told me yesterday that you’re not staying. Where you heading off to, George?”.

“Anansi, sir”.

Paul’s father whistled, “Be careful out there, kid. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a great city. Anything can happen. But anything is a pretty broad term and freedom of speech can be a tricky thing, my word”, and he winked, “Trust me, I’m a lawyer”.

So she’d heard. While everyone congratulated her on her choice, simply mentioning the city made several people uncomfortable. Thus why she kept being urged to be careful, and buy several sweaters so as to not freeze. It annoyed her slightly, Anansi being just kilometers away from Orwell. It wasn’t like she was crossing an ocean and several time zones like some students did in days past.

It struck her that she had no idea what Paul was going to do. After school. But now it was too late. Paul no longer sat beside her. His eyes awkwardly looked to meet hers briefly before he boarded his father’s car.

Georgia’s glance dropped in one swift movement. She did not meet his eyes and it was then he knew that she understood. A quick nod to signal understanding passed between them. This was good-bye. They’d still see each other on graduation day, but this was the last time they’d talk to each other for a long time, if ever. It was the sort of “See you in another life, brotha” Desmond Hume tells Jack Shepard in Lost, except  neither party really believed in meeting again, let alone keeping in touch. And didn’t want to. Despite a sort of companionship existing between the two as the stereotypical class loners, each saw in the other memories of the shared pain they had endured throughout high school.and both wished to escape it. And now they could.  

Regret stung at the back of Georgia’s throat, an angry bile that threatened to turn to tears. One phrase kept humming in her ears: I should’ve tried harder.

She should have tried harder to connect with Paul. And maybe even her classmates. Only a small group of people had been horrid to her, and she was sure most were pretty decent people. She should’ve tried harder, not give up on the grounds that all people were evil and would eventually hurt her.

Darth Vader’s theme played from her phone.

She sighed in relief.

“Alo?”

“Hey Georgia, honey. It’s mom. I’m here!”

Georgia looked up to see her mother waving from the car. Hereby the vehicle that would whisk her away from her old life.

‘Well’, she pondered, ‘I’m alive. Therefore I can be better. And I will be better. I will’.

She got into her mother’s car and did not look back.