A buzzing, static sound rang loudly across the school grounds.
Students grew silent in its presence. Like peasants to a lord.
Their attention fixated on his next words.
Anticipation boiling in their blood.
"Good afternoon, everyone."
The pause only built more tension. Everyone knew what was coming, but no one else was allowed to say it before the powerful voice could. It was almost as though everyone had been hexed.
"Today I'd like to congratulate the students of 2020 that will be graduating. It's something to be remembered. If you see one, offer them your support and congratulations yourself."
Despite starting loud and strong. The voice's tone grew solemn—soft, hesitant.
"This year we all went through a lot together. It was the start of something no one saw coming."
As this sentence rang out, heads hung low in quiet, contemptuous defeat. Everyone knew what had happened. War had broken out, of the biological kind. Enthralling and poisoning anyone it latched onto like a parasite.
Its name wasn't said, but it was immediately recognized and acknowledged.
"But the students of 2020 held strong and steadfast. All of them studying hard in between the sickness and dread. And through that powerlessness, they found their way to the light. They made it to the end."
A spark in the depression led to an explosion. It lit classrooms up with relief. The survivor's guilt was still strong among many, but stayed repressed, hidden behind masks of delight.
"In 5 minutes, some of you will hear the last bell of your school life. I'm sure everyone's more than relieved to hear that."
Some were. Some weren't. Some faces screamed with regret, like they hadn't done everything they wanted. Others beamed with joy and excitement. Freedom would be here the moment the clock struck the next hour, which was only five minutes away.
"With that. Goodbye, everyone. And have a lovely Christmas holiday."
The speaker sputtered, the sound of a microphone being put down, followed by a click. The buzzing from the speakers, the voice that jumped out of them, they were gone. What remained was impatient heads.
And then, it came.
Those five minutes had felt like time was warping just to make them longer. Like some elder god was twisting the flow of it, just to fuck with the people it meant most to.
The bell rang and the weights that rested on many shoulders were now crumbling away. Thirteen years of school were over, and what awaited them was the rest of the world. The rest of their lives.
Great. Here comes the real nightmare.
School was out. His mum was waiting. Life was waiting.
His brothers had left early, or at least that was the judgement Saluim had made after seeing Aston being a little devil outside with his cookies. It was also historically something he had noticed over time.
He always felt like he was behind. Like everyone was jogging ahead of him, even while he was in a full sprint. Being left behind.
He was used to that feeling by now.
He didn't like it. But it was familiar.
And familiar was easier.
"See you later, Sal!" Mitch ran out of the classroom in a rush. Immediately, his figure was swallowed by the flood of students running out.
"Don't call me that." He mumbled to himself. The nickname was lazy and just sounded wrong.
Sal sounded like it belonged to a larger guy. A class clown maybe. Or a comedian for a show about making really impractical, embarrassing jokes and pranks.
Joining the fray, and shrugging off the thought of being named Sal, he pushed into the monster's maw, sparing one last glance at the teacher, whose attention was distant, lost and now uncaring.
He was a good teacher. He cared. Good on him.
That didn't matter now though. What mattered was moving forward. And not in a metaphorical sense either. Despite being closer to the entrance of the school, the pathways were full. His surroundings were covered in acne and makeup. The once fresh air, tainted by perfume and body odor.
The mix between early leavers, and sparing too much time letting his mind wander, had let others catch up in their mad attempt to join the collective.
He had to strain himself, pushing himself into the hallways of doom, he proceeded with slow and calculated precision. Weaving in between bosom and bottom, muscle and bone, skin and flesh. The walls holding up this circus were ready to collapse in on him, but they stood just barely strong enough to keep him moving.
Stopping and starting paces, a crescendo of ballet through the hall of mirrors, each face reflected resembling a funny version of Mitchel, until finally finding a break in them. An exit.
Christ almighty!
Watch your words. Saluim.
At the end of his swift escape was the car park. Dressing like a sort of psychological horror you'd only see in a really bad trip.
Columns of cars in a playful variety of colours and shapes. One could skillfully craft a vague, abstract art of it and still convey the same feeling with ease. Loud, and a little provocative.
Despite the twisted horror though, a light, a warmth.
His mother stood by a black family car. It was sharp, clean, and weirdly rich. It stood out like a convoy for a government official, despite their lacking background.
Its roof held two silver bars. The paint was like a starry night. It closely resembled a mismatched mother of pearl texture. Just... Black. Midnight black.
It looked like a scene of astronomical twilight had been captured, frozen in time, and spread across its surface delicately, to preserve every faint little flickering star.
To compliment it all. The front grill of the car was decorated like a veteran. A big, bold badge brandished itself in silver. It resembled a goat—ram? Ram.
The rams' horns were crawling out of the carving like royalty.
And his mother acted like it. And she should. She had brought loyal subjects into the world. A queen deserves her carriage. And she sure as hell made that last part clear.
"Well, well, well."
Te-Ata's head tilted upward, trying to match the height of her son. He had outgrown her in that department, leaving her in his shadow. Literally.
"Hey mum," Saluim awkwardly let open his arms to wrap around her, ready for the brute strength of his mother to crush him, "where're the others?"
His focus leaving his mother for a second, still stuck in an inescapable bear hug. Noticing in the car that two of his brothers were already in there. Jett, taking the passenger seat and holding it above everyone else like it was a throne. Mason, sat in the back making silly faces to mock Jett's selfish humour.
"They're in the car."
Pushing Saluim back but still holding onto his arms, she let her face grow a warm smile.
"We're just waiting on Aston now."
Ah.
Aston. The randy devil from before. He was cocky, playful, and really annoying. But he was truthful and honest. Probably the worst quirk about him though, was that he sucked at planning and time management. Far from being something to go on his Resume.
Luckily, the wait wouldn't be as haunting as the five minutes it took for the bell to ring. Saluim tuned into the sound of a ratty kid trying to make a questionable joke. One that really shouldn't be said at school.
The gang was all here! And they were having ice-cream to celebrate.
They had planned before the school day had started, as they had seen a funny little hole in the wall stall sticking out and asking for love.
It was new, but rather quiet.
The perfect little get-away for a high school graduation chill spot.