Strangers
August 14th, 1988
Reecion, Illinois
Sunday
4:17 am
You know you can’t fool me
I’ve been lovin’ you too long
It started so easy
You’ll want to carry on
Lost in love, and I don’t know much
“J!”
‘Cause I’m thinkin’ aloud, and fell out of touch
“J!!”
He finally opened his eyes and took off his headphones. The muffled sound of ‘Lost in Love’ was still playing from them.
“God, finally. What the shit are you doing?! It’s past 4 in the morning!” Zephaniah whisper-yelled.
“Can a guy just listen to music in peace?”
“Not when it’s past 4 in the fucking morning!”
“Oh my komodo, Zeph, just let me have some peace!”
“No, Liz! I swear to the moth lord, just go to sleep!”
This was their usual middle-of-the-night banter. And, if you were wondering, Zephaniah calls him ‘Liz’ because the man adores lizards and most reptiles. Moving on from that, why don’t you get to know some of the characters? Of course, we have the famous Zephaniah Garcia. A slightly above average height girl with medium-length black hair that faded into a dull purple (that was also put into two small buns on her head with messy bangs), dark green eyes, and light brown skin. The one you know as ‘J’ and ‘Liz’ would be Jamal Septum. Dark brown skin, messy black hair, and light amber eyes. The guy had many passions and hobbies, the main ones being singing, playing guitar, writing poetry, and, most of all, photography. He carried a camera with him almost everywhere he went. We can’t forget the fact that they both had glasses and were absolutely blind without them. Zephaniah had completely circle ones while Jamal’s were oval. The two were known as the outcasts. The freaks. The no friends. The losers. No one else talked to them except if they were being picked on or bullied. It was part of their daily routine by then.
They weren’t the only ones, however. There were...others. Others like them. Outcasts. Outcasts... These people were the kings and queens of disaster. And, trust me, they owned it like a gold medal.
August 15th, 1988
Reecion, Illinois
Monday
10:19 am
“So, class, we have a new student!”
Whispers broke out through the room. Jamal wasn’t paying attention. He was too busy writing. Although, his mind was stirring.
“She came all the way from New York City!” as Mr. Sai said that, a girl with pale skin, dark gray hair, and brown eyes walked in. She was wearing a black jacket and dark blue jeans. “Meet Larique!”
“L,” she said, looking up at him. “Just call me L.”
“Oh,” he said with a small laugh. “Alright, L.”
He motioned for her to sit somewhere in the back. Larique walked to the corner next to Mouse. Right, you don’t know who that is. You see, nobody knows his real name. Not even the teachers. And you can’t ask his friends because those friends are non-existent. He was a tall boy with reddish-brown hair (usually done up in a short ponytail with long, thick parts of hair over his face), green eyes, olive skin, and black rectangle glasses. He usually wore a white long-sleeved shirt with a dark red tie and black leggings.
He was known as ‘Mouse’ for a reason. Probably because he was quiet, calm, and quick. As Larique sat down, he looked over at her and they made eye contact for a second or two. Mouse gave a small smile that she did not return.
August 15th, 1988
Reecion, Illinois
Monday
4:31 pm
There was a faint smell of smoke coming from around a stone corner. Leaning against the wall, there was a boy with messy dark red (literally the color) hair, pale skin, and light blue eyes. He was wearing a black toque. There was a cigarette resting in between his fingers. He exhaled, releasing a small gray cloud of smoke.
Jamal came from around the bend and leaned against the wall next to the red-haired boy.
“Got a spare?” Jamal asked casually.
The other boy nodded and took out a box of cigarettes, taking one out and handing it to Jamal in the process. The boy also took out a lighter and threw it up, making Jamal have to catch it. He chuckled lightly at the joke and lit his cigarette. He leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes, letting the afternoon sun drench him in warmth.
“Quill, by the way,” the boy said. Jamal turned his head and gave a puzzled look at him.
“My name,” he said, holding his hand out to shake Jamal’s. “And you’re Jamal Septum, right?”
Jamal looked at his hand and after a few moments, shook it.
“Yeah,” he said kindly. “But, well...”
Quill blinked at him.
“You can call me J or Mal or Jam, just…anything but Jamal.”
“Well…why? If you don’t mind me asking.”
He paused.
“I…I don’t like to talk about it.”
"Oh. No problem, Jam," Quill said, walking away.
August 15th, 1988
Reecion, Illinois
Monday
7:46 pm
The common room was almost empty. There were only 5 people in it, which wasn’t normal. Mouse was sitting by the fire. Larique was listening to music on the opposite end of the couch where Wren Taiga was doing homework. Quill was sitting on the floor, leaning against a chair, reading. Jamal was tuning his guitar. It was quiet except for the small sound of off-key chords being fixed. Jamal sighed quietly and closed his eyes. Then, he started playing soft intro music. The melody was calm and comforting. Like ink smoothly drifting from a quill, writing every word on parchment perfectly. He started to hum the beginning lyrics, anxious and unsettled by his “company”. Mouse closed his eyes, listening carefully to every note, strum, and chord.
“Days fade into a watercolor blur...”
Quill turned his head.
“Memories swim and haunt you...”
Wren’s hands stopped moving.
“But look into the lake, shimmering like smoke...”
Larique slowly took her headphones off.
“Rises the moon...”
Mouse finally turned around.
“Oh-oh, close your weary eyes...”
Jamal’s eyes opened and he stopped singing and playing, noticing all of the eyes on him. His breath became shaky.
“S-Sorry. I guess I just forgot you were here..” He forced a small laugh.
There were a few seconds of awkward silence.
“Oye!” Jamal looked up and behind him from the sudden voice. There was a girl standing on the staircase above him, leaning against the railing. “Continua. I wanna hear your voice.”
Jamal recognized the girl above him as Aria-Nova. She had dark skin and even darker hair. Her dark blue eyes were her most noticeable trait. She constantly had a rose in her hair.
“Que estas esperando? Continue.”
And so he continued. The song went on for another minute or two, the five extra people listening closely. Aria-Nova smiled from time to time, almost as if she was a critic. The song finished and Jamal looked up to see A-N’s reaction.
“Impressive,” she said simply, walking up the staircase to the dorms.
Jamal looked back in front of him. Wren was trying not to care about how Jamal sounded. Larique was staring in awe. Mouse was smiling sweetly at him.
“Not bad,” Larique said, finally smiling at him. She went back to her own music, putting on her headphones, crossing her arms, and closing her eyes.
Mouse went back to staring at the fire. Wren was still looking at his paper. Quill stared back at his book. Jamal smiled. He wasn’t used to getting kind criticism. The trance he was in while singing was normal for him. It always happened. That moment when you’re in some sort of zone. Like when you’re writing and you know exactly what you’re doing or when you’re singing and you know exactly what you’re saying or... when you’re moved. Moved by..whatever. Music, writing, work, sport. Anything. Though, he wasn’t used to it even more because he only knew these people’s names. They were...strangers.
Simply strangers.
