Words Have No Context Without You.

Chapter 1: Seen but Not Heard

As a loner in this big place some call “the world”, it is exceedingly hard to understand the thinking process of those who function in normal society. I had always brooded in the corner of the nearest alcove in the school’s corridors, my thumbs never once stopping their never-ending quest for the next conversation to appear on the small screen. Words had failed me since the spring of my youth, and so my only outlet became the technological advancements of communication. Freshman year had been the worst, for it seemed that the voice was the focal point to all socializing in a young adult’s lifespan. Over time, attention turned from my strange condition and focused elsewhere, while I became a part of the everyday mainstream. A dark spot on the ever gleaming social activity of everyday is what I became, and so I normally found myself fingering the strange electronic device in my pocket during classes. Pencil to paper became my new form of art during class as I delved into a world that was entirely my own. As soon as the bell rang though, the small mobile device was once again in my hands, my thumbs already itching to touch the cool frame of each button. I cannot remember when my habits had reached the substantial point of being my entire being, but I did not care to linger on the fact. The truth was that I clung to this simple condition on hopes that maybe, just maybe, another intellectual being could share my instincts to recede into themselves and refuse to follow the examples of brute civilization. And so, I sat in the small alcove once again after the sixth bell of the day, my fellow juniors rushing about the halls as my eyes focused on the text in front of me. I scrunched my eyebrows in complete confusion as I stared, focusing and un-focusing my eyes as I thought. The text read:

“I’m moving again.”

Such a simple phrase could have thousands of different meanings. I had, luckily, known the sender since the end of my freshman year, and had been quite grateful for the company that she gave, provided that she lived miles from me. Our meeting had been strange, for any relationship starting on an internet forum was always a questionable one, but we persisted despite the odds of staying in touch. We, being two similar minded beings, created a routine that fitted our schedules after some attempts. Now, two years later, we were closer to each other than we even realized. With a simple phrase we had mapped out each other’s mood to the point that even we did not even comprehend the complete synchronization we had created with each other. Without missing a heartbeat I tapped out a simple, yet complete phrase that only I knew she would comprehend.

“Once again, you fail to amaze me at how many times you move in a single year.”

I felt the muscles in my face tighten as I smirked. Sarcasm was an art we had perfected long before we had ever been acquainted. Another heartbeat later, she replied, the sarcasm dripping from the sentence.

“I suppose even ordinary people have the ability to do incredulous things.”

“There are no limits to absurdity.”

“Indeed, but unfortunately, resources are always limited to those who lunacy drives them.”

“This still does not answer the question of when and where you are moving to.”

There was a pause before she replied. “To be frank, a small town in God- knows- where.”

“That could be anywhere. Does it involve living in a relative’s backyard?”

“No, but it is in the same state that you live in, to be specific.”

I began nibbling the tip of my fingernails as I stared blankly at freshly peeled part of the wall, organizing my thoughts as a hysteric remark easily found its way into my next phrase.

“Shall I be preparing a room for you?”

“You may have to.”

I considered her thought as the signal for class chimed its way down the corridor. My feet were automatically moving themselves towards the last class of the evening as I slipped the sleek electronic device into back pocket of my denims. My mind wandered, once again as it often does, to the psychological part of mankind and its effects. What was it that made a child more susceptible to the bleakness and dread of knowing the real world at young ages? Parental guidance was an obvious attribute, but I couldn’t help but feel it had something to do with the world itself. She, from what information she had given, was unfortunately a part of this darker side thinking, living a life she didn’t necessarily choose. Coming from a similar form of entity, it didn’t take long to perceive that she was dealing with issues that had always been present. So was there a spirit of the world that only resided in those who had seen it, and was the rest of humankind only blind to this reality?

I was abruptly revived from my thoughts as I collided with a solid object. I sighed as I observed the strangely animalistic sneer that graced the lips of the blockade in the doorway. I suddenly remembered that this creature was in fact human, but only barely. The “human” grabbed my shirt and fisted the material in his hand, his smirk still evident.

“Where are you going, loser?” He asked callously.

I rolled my eyes. After sixteen years, this “human” had not obviously grasped the concept of school.

“I asked where you were going! Man, you are an annoying mute freak…” He asserted as others started to join in. The wind was knocked out of my lungs as my bottom impacted with the floor, leaving what was probably another bruise. They left as quickly as they came as the late bell rang and I scurried into class, hoping to avoid making eye contact with the overly friendly teacher. The female professor’s eyes swept the room, my body visibly flinching when she paused at me. Pity was the only noun to describe the disciplinarian’s eyes as she scrutinized me. When her gaze left mine, I released an audible breath, hoping that my eyes hadn’t betrayed any emotions that could be misinterpreted. The long lecture began, and the pencils about the room scribbled frantically to record the information on the dry erase board, a stifled yawn echoing about the room every so often. I was unaware as to when the worksheet had been placed before me, but twenty math equations later I found myself balancing my pencil on my finger, every so often twirling it before scribbling a mental note and repeating the process. Exasperated sighs and peals of laughter were frequent until the bell rang.

“Have a good weekend everyone! Oh, Lorcan, could you stay behind a moment?” the teacher’s sickly sweet voice rang out. My hand paused mid-zip, my backpack still half open. Her benevolence held no bounds as it seemed, for she expressed a sad smile that a person gives to a ruffian on the street corner. Zipping up completely, I slung the pack over my shoulder and stopped in front of the desk, the smell of women’s perfume enveloping like a cloud over us. She sat back in the chair and stared at me as my body weight shifted from one foot to the other.

“Lorcan, I can’t help but seem to notice your lack of…well, socializing.” She started slowly, carefully choosing her words before they left the tip of her tongue. I snorted quietly. A month later and we were still on this topic, how completely monotonous.

“Your grades are exceedingly good, I would expect no less from someone who takes all AP classes, but you need to interact with other people your age. I don’t know the details, but you’re going to have to talk sometime if you want to get anywhere in life…” she finished, a brief flash of irritation flickering in her eyes. I simply shrugged, watching the inevitable defeated look she exhibited before simple shooing me away with a motion of hands. As I walk out of the classroom, I couldn’t help but smile. No teacher could win an argument of wits with me as an opponent; I wasn’t a genius for nothing. Rushing out the doors and catching the bus before it left the parking lot, I settled into the seat before pulling out the cellular device and tapping a few words. A reply was instant, and the conversation couldn’t have been any less intriguing.

“How was your day?” she replied.

“Well Kas, it was completely phenomenal. I gained a group of fan boys, whose sole intention was to asset where my future residing would be, and my ego inflated as another individual of greater age, but of lesser intelligence, tested the figurative waters of my intellect.”

“In other words a normal day.”

“Indeed.”

“I thought I told you to call me by my full name. It’s easy. Kasia. Ka-see-ah.”

“I deny any specific controversy on the subject.”

“Would you mind if I refreshed your memory, Lor?”

“Touché.”

“I’m moving this weekend. Well, if you can even call it moving. It’s more like a few clothes and a carpet bag and we’re out of here.”

“You never know, it could be the carpet bag from Mary Poppins and items you never knew existed could suddenly pop out.”

“You think if I reach far enough, I could grab you?”

“That depends on how far you reach.”