The Questions

When we reached home, Damian and I sat outside to enjoy the breeze. We put our heads on the cool red brick that was my house. Damian seemed a little uncomfortable, but before I could say anything, he spoke up.

"Dude, sometimes I can't believe what happens around here"

"What do you mean?"

"Oh c'mon man, do not tell me you don't see why these people are poor," he exclaimed and stared into my eyes with that response. His eyes were a vibrant blue, full of life and curiosity, as he was himself. The nerd with the heart and the brain. Nothing was new to him and everyone was behind. He often would read books to catch up on history and learn how our politics worked. I wasn't the biggest political nerd at the time, rendering my knowing of this reason blank. I had to respond, he was being sincere and he always needed a response when he was. There was no fighting it.

"You know I don't, but for sure I want to figure it out. Tell me what it is."

"Dude, that's the thing" he heaved with a sigh, "I don't either. I thought maybe you would know."

"What? But you always read books about history."

"I know, and I do, but from about the past fifty years, nothing is really there to find out. All the books ever told me about the modern government was that President Carder won the election and has been running for 15 years now and that the government is much better with her on her fourth term. More than that, the books tell all different stories."

"That's funny."

"Why do you think so?"

"Because no one can get history right. The good guys, the bad guys; the one who wins is branded as the good guy. It's kinda funny to see how different people see the same history with a gray lens, kinda making them blind if you think about it hard enough."

"Dude, you're actually right for once."

"Ha Ha, very funny."

"No seriously, if the writers write their own history for themselves, aren't they just campaigning? I mean, 15 years bro, that's like a record for Calimet, and the United States beforehand…"

"You lost me."

Damian often rambled when he talked, and this was no exception. He would skip many ideas he had and jump straight into the next ones with no explanation.

"Ah, it's fine, I gotta get home anyways, see ya man!"

And with that he stood up and ran off toward his house. I slowly stood up as one freakishly large water droplet fell into my hands. How perfectly it had fallen. Like grace from God it reached me. It was starting to seep through the crevices in my hand. I didn't want to let it go. I wanted the water droplet to stay. It struggled to move in and out, from one side of my had to the other it sloshed. I clasped my hands together as if to trap the water and think, Come on! What is going on? Explain it please…, I just stayed there for a moment. Then the water, much to my demise, fell out my hands, and with a big clash, splattered across the moist, black earth.

I walked inside, the chatter growing louder and louder. I opened the door, took off my shoes and placed them on the rusty rack. Almost everyone in the home was too busy watching TV to see me walk in. I walked into my room, which was pretty ordinary, except for the fact that it, every night, held three people in its arms. Keeping them safe from the dangers of the outside. I sat down in my chair at the table.

My Geometry homework wasn't necessarily hard, it just took time. Lots and lots of time. Quadrilaterals, triangles, and lines; just some things that we study to the extent. There was so much that occasionally I stopped and just fiddled with something. My mom to got annoyed quite often from my fiddling; she hated it when people mess with things. It made her often go crazy, but I just couldn't help it.

It's a part of me. It's one of those forces that you cannot control. The forces fight against your will to be normal and accept change into societal growth, gaining power and speed and velocity at every turn. We were told in school how everyone has some of that drive in them. Everyone wants to escape they said. But the faithful ones stay and overcome. Faith they said. Belief. But sometimes I let my thoughts run loose. What if I don't stay faithful to what they told me. It sounds foolish. We have what we need and it would risk so much wouldn't it? All for the sake of something unknown? Why do the forces that we don't know how so much power over us? For me, I thought I would let them in one day. Maybe it wouldn't be that bad. Society and spirit live like the Yin and Yang. The opposites yet they try the same things. They need the same power. They need your acceptance and submission. Always turning and moving to seemingly hide. They move, run, travel, pour, scurry, sprint, and race like there's never been one before, Always changing and understanding, and the combination of which gives off life…the feeling that I get when I dream... And then I suddenly snapped back into reality

"Kayne! Wake up! I'm home!!!"

I turn around as fast as a flash of bright light. Andrea's home. Time to wind up my ears for a whole heap load of words. She sees me.

"Guess what I did today? Well, Mrs.Welch read a book to us about dolphins. Did you know that dolphins use 20% of their brain while humans only use 10? Well, I did, and anyways...."

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Tap! Tap! TAP! TAP TAP!! Startled I wake up. I looked to the window and saw a man banging on it! I fell backwards off my bed and onto the floor, hitting my back, then seconds later my head. The pain felt like a needle being forced into my skull. Gradually, as I recovered, I glanced at the window. The man stopped tapping. I moved to the window slowly. The shape of Damian.

He was calling me to him. I threw on my clothes and quietly left the house. What was he doing at my house in the middle of the night? I got out of the house quite easily and found Damian. He was out of breath.

"No time to explain… follow me" was all he said before he taped a piece of ripped paper onto the window and ran.

I sprinted after him. The cold air forced my lungs into a cough. I no longer had the speed like that of when I was young. Back in Texas, I was fast, and I mean really fast. I would run miles before I felt the need to stop. There were three of us who competed for the speed in our school. Jack Kendrick, a boy named Chance, and me. Chance put in the most effort. Running did not come easy to him as me and Jack. We all made it to the State Championships for the mile run. Chance's effort gave him 3rd in State, Jack came in 11th, and I in 6th. I pushed Jack to stop bullying Chance after that, who he blamed as the reason for his lack of top 10 placement. I don't believe he stopped the bullying, as evident by the fact that Chance moved schools later that year. Jack became angry and blamed me for his failures when Chance left. He was a good friend, and it tore my heart. A few months later, I watched Jack drown in the floods. Those final green penetrating eyes have never escaped my mind.

We kept on running. We were headed in the direction of the construction field. Damian had stopped at the entrance. I came right behind him and came to a screeching halt. He said nothing but pointed to a little hole dug by the construction workers for the plumbing of the homes. There was, on a water pipe, my uncle's hunting knife.

"I saw it on my way home from your house. I was curious what they were building here and I took a look. I saw the knife, and didn't think anything of it until I saw the blood on it."

He wasn't wrong, on the edge of the blade was a streak of blood, not very fresh though. The moment was quick, I grabbed that knife and started walking back slowly as I inspected the knife for any clues. My uncle did not work at this construction site, why would his knife, marked with his signature slash on the handle, be here. What was he not telling us?

Damian started breathing heavily, almost as heavy as when he discovered he had to move from Texas. He was always afraid of change. When the waters first started rising, he went nuts. Like bananas. He would cry, then run to stop his crying, then cry again. His mother, no matter how many times she tried to reassure him, could never find a way to stop this. I eventually found a solution. Becca, his love interest. She, a friend from school at the time decided to help me out. She went up to his house every other day and would play battleship, a game which she would always let him win. She was talkative and found him very amusing. He would mumble to himself to decide which move he would make. She would just stay there and laugh. She loved to be around him and my suspicions say that she wanted to be more than just a friend too. Becca stood at an average height, she had bright blond hair and had eyes that were more blue than the sky itself. She wanted to move with us when we did, but her parents were very religious and believed that they lived in a sacred home. When we took the last bus north, she was the last person I saw from there. The dust blew into her face and she was gone. Damian cried for an hour straight. So much at such a small time.

I stood in awe, and fright, and in mezmiration at the sight of the lengthy dagger. Damian, after a while, calmed down. He just looked at me, expectantly.

The only thing I could come up to say was "I don't know."

I really had no idea why it was there. I mean, if I knew how to stop him from getting anxious I would've done it. Trust me. There is nobody who hates to see Damian anxious or angry or depressed or even a mixed blend of each more than I do. Thankfully, that wasn't up to me. A wasp the size of an eraser was having a blast in his hair. Zipping in and out, out and in, every which way was possible. How did a wasp come out during the rain anyways? Man, today was one of the weirdest days.

He quickly slapped it away, and being careful of his surroundings, he looked at me, and with the softest voice like that of a baby's, he said "what now?"

"Now we get you some rest."

"And your uncle?"

"I don't know, I think I'll keep it for now."

"Keep it?!"

"If I gave it back he will have known I saw the blood and I don't wanna get in trouble."

"Okay, okay."

On the way back we reached his house first. He gave me a look of pain I would only understand much later. He was about to walk into his house, when he said, "You know, I think it's nothing more than a misplaced knife." And with that he was gone. Damian did not know of my uncle Lannon Hope's past, but I knew some. I knew that Uncle Lannon worked for the government on some level and was gone a few years before I was born and showed up at my parents house when I was four in rags. This was unusual because those that were taken for a government position were never supposed to come back because apparently otherwise they might not be fully focused on their work. He got a lot of cuts from working with the government and once at night, when my mom was questioning him, I think he even said he wasn't supposed to be alive, whatever the case. He made her promise not to tell anyone of himself, and he then he took on his name that I know him by. He never bothered to tell me what happened and it annoyed me for a long time. He told me he changed his name because he liked it better, and my mother reluctantly agreed.

The next day went by more or less the same. Uncle went to work as usual, mom to her cleaning homes. I took the kids to school without too much hassle, although Megan did almost throw up from Don spinning her. I told him that if he didn't stop, I'd tell his dad. This was enough to stop him. Geometry was a haze. The numbers and shapes and words and people just put me in one of those moods. History afterwards wasn't much better, and English was just horrible. My essay that I finished that morning and turned in late, came back as a failing grade, dropping my high B into a low C. I didn't care. Adira Blaze, was as cold to Mrs. Danter as always. She did however take a glance at me for a split second or two, making my heart jump, although I didn't know why. I really didn't like her but I really like her. I don't know. It was weird.

It was during my last period class that something out of the ordinary happened. My science teacher, Mrs.Astor, was rambling on about DNA and and something about it containing instructions for our bodies when there was a knock on the door. The rest of the class, silent until now, started shuffling and moving as if this knock had disturbed them in some way.

It was 1:25.

She walked in as if she had every right to. All eyes turned to her and stayed there. The grace in her movement. When Mrs. Astor saw her, she merely bowed and walked to her table and started to grade some ungraded papers. This lady introduced herself as Dr. Berryman. She was wearing a women's suit of black and high roller black heels that were brand new. She was built like a man, broad shoulders and a fierce look that dominated her face. She reminded me of those angry businessmen who yelled on phones and typed on computers. Those living life whilst constantly being watched by someone else superior, because there always is someone superior. Her voice however, matched that of her gender, something more calm, soothing, and loving.

"Guys don't worry, I'm not here to do anything that might hurt you, I'm just here to see what kind of kids you are. I just want to see if you're learning in here. Nothing more."

She walked like a dove over to a redheaded boy

"Dear child," she said, "what is tRNA?"

answered quietly, "It's Umm, it's the physical link between the mRNA and the amino acid sequence of proteins."

Mrs.Astor looked pleasantly surprised.

Dr. Berryman merely scoffed and continued around the classroom asking basic vocabulary questions. She received mostly correct answers, as shown by the look that Mrs. Astor gave at the end of each one. Once she got to me, she asked me something I was caught off guard by

"Dear Child, is science real?"

I struggled to give an answer. Time, had decided to take a vacation and slowed enough so I could have time to think. Was she tricking me? I wasn't going to deal with her tricking me. I was tired enough.

"Is science real? Well… what do you believe?" I responded quietly.

She looked rather amused. She gave me no answer, but receded back to Mrs.Astor's table, who was chomping on her nails like a wood chipper.

"What's your name son?"

"Kayne Hope"

"Middle name?"

" I don't have one."

"Okay okay, one more question for you."

Her eyes shifted from mine to overlook my bodily presence. I was slouching, unlike the class who were all sitting up straight, filled with fright and curiosity. I simply did not care who she was. President Carder herself wouldn't have impressed me. I am simply someone who does not get impressed by others, after all, they are the same human I am. We both share the same mental capacity, we both have the same abilities, we both have the same drives. Some just have better connection to it than others. I always hated when people idolize others, it's like they have no self love. I mean sure, that person can sing better than you, but can he or she live your day to day life? Can anyone, by that fact, live the life you do? Can someone else act like you? Can you act and live their life? No. whether to be the best follower or the best leader. Whether to change the norms or to make the norms. Each of us is embroidered with memories that have the same value to us individually… I had lost myself in thought again. Dr. Berryman was taking her time, she hadn't said a word yet, almost as if giving me the time to think. She then proceeded to walk up to me carefully.

With pen in hand and a binder of notes in the other, she asked me, "What is more important, focusing on today or tomorrow?"

"Well.."

I took a moment, I had a feeling this was another way our teachers were trying to teach us to think about our futures.

So I said, "I don't think they're exclusive, I mean, today creates tomorrow. Nothing happens without today happening, so we should act today with tomorrow in mind."

"A very curious answer, but what if there is no guarantee of tomorrow?"

"But tomorrow can still happen."

"What if I told you that everyone else knows that tomorrow won't occur but you disagree?"

"What's more important, the present day and it's actions, the one that might create or influence the tomorrow into being what it might, or the tomorrow itself, the unknown that humanity fears the most. It doesn't matter either way. We live today in the assumption that tomorrow is real. I'm sorry ma'am but your question seems irrelevant to how we act anyways," I responded.

She looked at me dead in the eye with that respond, clearly not pleased with my response. I wish Damian was in this class, he would know what to say. Dr. Berryman continued walking around the class, now asking existential questions, some like "Are we the only living species in the cosmos?" and others like "How can humans create meaning with language when other animals can't?"

She was never impressed it seemed and eventually just walked back to Mrs. Astor's table, whispered her something and walked out.

Apparently, whatever Dr. Berryman whispered to Mrs. Astor afterwards was not that bad because our day went on normal after that. The Doctor left and we continued learning. I, however, fell asleep after that.