THE JOINING: The Cycle of the Shards Book One

The incessant buzzing of the alarm clock had been unnecessary on this early Monday morning, as the boy laid awake after a fitful night’s sleep. It wasn’t that he was dreading the day exactly, it was just that he would rather be absolutely anywhere else than where he had to go.

As he did most weekday mornings, he briefly mulled over the options before him. Namely, if he chose not to participate in the rituals of daily life, and instead just hid in his bed. Unfortunately, it was not even realistic enough of an idea to waste time creating a fantasy about. Any insubordination would only be short lived, and the punishment not worth the crime. So with the lack of sleep still attempting to hold him down to the bed, Kyle Edison sat up with a heavy sigh.

He sat, his mind pulling him in every direction but to his feet. Would this week be any different? Would the busywork forced upon him daily lighten? Would he be forced into some kind of team exercise? Would he have a actual conversation with anyone that didn’t involve the answers to a test that he was not prepared for? Would anything happen that would actually matter?

As he swung his feet to the floor, and with a grunt stood up to begin the short walk to the bathroom, he tried to psych himself up for the day and the week ahead. The school year had just started, after all. It was barely fall. He had plenty of time to make up for lost time and do better. He really wanted to do better, but when the time came to act on that desire, it just didn’t seem like it was worth the effort. He and the mediocre C average he carried continued through the morning routine, finishing with wiping the steam from the shower off of the bathroom mirror and looking at himself in the glass. The barely controllable brown hair on his head was just another obstacle as he began to comb it down from a total disaster to a presentable one. There was a slight pimple forming, not enough to care about at this point, yet later he was sure he would look at it with anger. Blue eyes looked back at him with a pleading look, wondering why he was being put through this.

He dressed as slowly as he dared, just jeans and an unimpressive t-shirt. Unimpressive was a word that seemed to follow him like a cloud in the air. He trudged to the kitchen, glancing at the hanging clock on the wall. Despite his grumbling stomach, and the constant reminders from old commercials in his head telling him how important the first meal of the day was, he knew he didn’t have time to eat anything substantial. Not that there was an overabundance of food in the house. Hopefully his dad would find time to get to the store soon, but with his constant work he knew that was unlikely. It wasn’t anything Kyle minded, as he did like the solitude, only seeing his father a few times a week. Kyle didn’t blame his father. Glancing at the picture of his mother on the living room wall as he grabbed an apple, he wondered how it would be different if she had been around.

Taking a large bite, he slung his backpack around his shoulders. Its bulk from the three schoolbooks weighed him down just as much as the weight of the day upon him. He sighed one more time as he slipped his white non-descript tennis shoes on, and glanced around, willing a distraction to appear. Or a comet to wipe out the Earth sometime in the next five seconds. When neither happened, he turned to the front door and stepped outside.

The walk from his house to his school was short, roughly ten minutes. Convenient on the way home, but on the way there he wished it was much, much longer. Still, when he was in grade school he was bussed several miles, and that was as good as torture at times too. At least if he wanted to speed up the journey, he could jog or run across the large field. On a bus, he was under the control of the driver. If there was one thing he hated, it was having his freedom to move around at his own pace controlled by anyone else. So at least that was behind him.

As he crossed the field to the main sidewalk leading to the high school, he saw others walking along. Few others crossed the field, despite it being a more direct path and at least allowing other distractions from the nearby wooded area. That was one reason Kyle liked it, he was typically the only one there. He wasn’t trying to be non-conformist, he just appreciated the silence, which lessened more and more as he got closer to the school and the random discussions and yelling between his schoolmates. As he got to the point where he was forced to walk on the same path as others, he paced himself purposefully to not be too close to anyone. He wasn’t intentionally anti-social, he just didn’t want to be bothered nor bother anyone else. It probably wouldn’t have been an issue in either way, as he didn’t think anyone on the walk cared he was there at all.

As he got closer he recognized more and more faces, yet most names didn’t come to him. He saw the embittered science teacher Mr. Phelps, trying to present a face of authority to the arriving students, though it appeared he only was making himself a target to comments whispered under the breath of those he was enforcing the multitude of rules upon. There was Jim McClane, who was a friend in the sense that they could commiserate on shared dislikes of teachers, but Kyle never talked about too much more than that with him, and like essentially everyone here he didn’t see Jim outside of the school. Just one of a few people he felt safe enough around to sit at the same table as at lunchtime. He was next to Claire, Jim’s slightly younger sister, who appeared to be annoying him on some topic or another. That was not a new thing. There was Daniel, a friend not as ‘close’ as Jim but they still nodded to each other. Daniel had been in and out of school in earlier years but had straightened himself up as they entered Freshman year at the same time. A few others, but as usual nobody he would be interested in speaking with even if there had been time. He strained his head around to look for the one person he actually wanted to see, to no avail. He did see someone he absolutely wanted to avoid, the orange haired Brian Boyd. Like Kyle, Brian was a sophomore, but one that had been held back a few times throughout his long school career. He had known of Brian through the years, and without knowing why, had become a target for his collection of similarly undereducated fellows. Apparently just the simple act of wanting to be left alone was enough to open him up for whatever creative ways they could get away with to make him or whoever their target was that day miserable. He quickly jogged inside before he was noticed.

As he entered and headed down the hall to his locker, he saw exactly who he was wanting to see, someone whose very presence made him forget where he was going and what he was doing. Shanna Ewing. The thought of her made Kyle forget his locker combination. Red hair, green eyes, and today dressed rather demurely, though that didn’t matter to him at all. She moved towards him, and for a moment a fear arose in him. Would she speak to him? What would he say back? Could he say anything? His inherent anti-socialness vanished as his demeanor completely changed. She smiled at him, and began to speak...

...To the girl behind him. As she passed out of sight, thankfully unaware that Kyle had nearly had a heart attack over just the thought of a conversation that didn’t involve homework or something equally mundane, he let out a heavy sigh and continued to his locker, hoping that would be the most exciting thing that happened to him today.

He moved past the steps in the main foyer, a main feature alongside the chandelier in what Kyle considered to be an extravagance considering every year there would be ads on the television and on the front yards begging for more money for schools, and headed down the left hallway. There he found his locker amongst the sea of humanity that filled the halls. The five minute bell rang as he fumbled through the combination, and the crowds thinned around him. He quickly grabbed the first few books he needed, weighing him down even more, and walked quickly to his first ‘class’.

The first part of the day Kyle was weighed down by what seemed to be make-work. From Homeroom, to Pre-Algebra (Brilliant scheduling he thought, to put one of the driest classes taught by the driest teachers in the part of the morning where people would pay the least attention) , to History (Slightly more interesting, and the part where he was finally waking up on most days), to Science, he moved slowly through the day just as he had any others. He had more than a passing interest in science, at the very least due to the attempts from Mr. Phelps to get his students to show the same interest he did. He would frequently, once a week or so, go off in a session-long tangent about the advances in science, the intricacies of space and planets and everything involved with traveling there, and the disappointment that despite how far we’ve come we have not made it even farther. It did lighten up the day somewhat when the alternative was solving problems or memorizing facts from a text book.

When Science had ended, it was lunch. He tried to blend in with his classmates, hoping that as part of the larger group he would go unnoticed. As in most days, this tactic did not work. As he stood quietly in the lunch line, attempting to make himself as small as possible, he suddenly was pushed slightly but firmly from behind, and heard the dreaded voice of Brian Boyd.

“I’m a little short today, Edison, hook me up?” The question was asked in a way that there was no way to answer in the negative. This was part of a routine. Once or twice a week the scene would play out the same, and Kyle would be hungry the rest of the day. Standing up for himself was not an option. Brian’s disadvantages in the realm of learning gave him several advantages in physicality, he had several others alongside him with similar bulk, and the nature of the one-size-fits-all punishment policies meant that even if Kyle was to withstand a fight, he’d be out of school just the same as those against him. Thus, he handed over his three dollars wordlessly, and went to sit outside.

It was a crisp October day as Kyle sat at a table that he had claimed for himself. As the days had grown colder most of the students had chosen to remain inside, either to talk, flirt, or to try desperately to finish their homework that was due later that day. Kyle didn’t mind, he enjoyed the weather and the silence in the courtyard. Brian had been paid off, so he typically would leave him alone the rest of the day, and he hadn’t seen the friends he did have, who by now had usually commandeered a table in the name of his fellow outcasts. He didn’t come outside to read, or to listen to music, he just leaned back, and listened to himself think.

At least that was the original plan as he heard books slam down next to him, and the exasperation of one of his aforementioned friends. “I’m getting tired of it, Kyle, I can’t take her any more!” The voice was that of John Clarkson, a sophomore alongside Kyle and the closest thing he had to a best friend.

“So don’t take her. Wait, you took her?” Kyle smirked as he spoke without opening his eyes. This was another thing that happened frequently, although this had been going on every few days for years.

“NO! God, no. You’re sick. What’s in your head, man?”

Kyle shook his head, and sighed. Silent time was over. “You’re the one that asked her out. You’ve known her how long?”

“I asked her out a year ago, and she still gives me shit for it. I’d expect Jim to, but nooo, it’s always her.”

“You probably shouldn’t have asked her out then.” This was a familiar dance. John and Kyle didn’t have much in common but Kyle was a good person to rant to, mostly because of his silence and his desperate desire to stay neutral.

“She was wearing a skirt that day! You know that’s my weakness! And ever since that date, she’s just non stop ‘lalala find any girls yet, John?’ ‘Go to any nice restaurants, John?’ I TOOK HER TO A RESTAURANT!”

“...It was fast food.”

“It was nice! It was a first date!”

“You made her pay.”

John sighed, unwrapped his sandwich, and took a bite. With his mouth full, he continued. “I’m a believer in Women’s lib. Ever since we had that class. Those girls burned their bras, Kyle! Apple?” He knew Brian’s tricks all too well, which was one reason he always brought his own lunch. Brian had no interest in whatever concoction John would come up with day to day. With Kyle nodding, he tossed it to him.

Kyle considered the apple, then took a bite. Like John, speaking with his mouth full. “I don’t think they burned their bras so they could buy dinner on a date.”

“Whatever man, equality. You hook up with that Shanna chick yet?” Kyle just looked at him, but John was unstoppable when he got going. “Don’t look at me like that, you always look at me like that. You gotta make a move.”

“John, she’s a cheerleader.”

“So? Cheerleaders just a thing, a way to get extra credit. Doesn’t make her special. Though the skirts...”

“She’s not gonna have anything to do with me, I doubt she even remembers my name.”

“Then make sure she remembers it! You’ve got that class with us, hell you sit right next to her! Introduce yourself, give her a rose, write her poetry. Girls love that shit!”

“If you’re so knowledgeable with girls, John, why are you always hanging out with me?”

“Just sharing what I know. Give a man a fish, he’ll eat for a day. Teach a man to date, he’ll...”

“OKAY! I get it. Fine. But Shanna’s not going to be interested, you know how this works. She’s beautiful, smart, you know, everything. And I’m...” Kyle grew quiet. He knew who he was. Kyle Edison. Drifting into school, through it, and out again. Day in, day out. John sensed the change in mood and moved the subject to the big movie that had come out the other day, and the two finished their lunch.

Immediately after lunch was the very class that Kyle sat next to Shanna in, along with John on his other side. “Computer Science” was the convenient catch-all name for essentially anything to do with computers, which usually boiled down to a few remedial lessons on typing, a few entry-level coding programs, and a lot of free time for those who were able to grasp the intricacies of email and the start button. This was his favorite class for two reasons. Shanna Ewing, of course, and also being able to largely hide behind a computer screen and forget where he was for forty-five precious minutes. But mainly for Shanna. Mostly she would keep to herself, but occasionally she would nudge him and ask him a question about something she had noticed him looking at. He wondered if she knew how uncomfortable he was when he stuttered through an answer or a comment. He never really thought about why she would be looking at his computer, only that she always finished whatever the day’s assignment was faster than anyone else in the class.

After the sweet suffering that was Computer Science lay Phys Ed. While far more dumbed down from the glory days when lawsuits were not something to be feared in a classroom, there were still frequent runs and low-impact ball throwing to do, balanced heavily by sitting and learning about the fine details of various sports, few of which Kyle had any interest in. It wasn’t exactly a torturous time but as with most of the day he wished he was somewhere, anywhere else.

Finally, in some sort of cruel irony, the day ended with a study hall, the enjoyment of which heavily depended on which teacher drew the short straw. Some teachers would allow the pupils to essentially get away with murder as long as they were quiet about it, and others would practically require everyone to sit up straight and focus on homework or else. Today was a banner day, as it was the principal, Mr. Tompkins, sitting in and quietly discussing what was sure to be important matters with Mrs. Smith, a stern believer of the latter principle. Tompkins was a balding, small little man, like so many in his profession having a inflated sense of self-worth along with a prized Mustang named Lucille, which was only well known because that was its license plate. Smith alone ensured a long plodding period of boredom punctuated by sneaking a non-school book, or a well planned out nap. With Tompkins alongside her, it was expected for everyone to be on their best behavior.

The clock said 3pm but Kyle’s internal clock read three years when the final bell rang, and to say that he bolted out of the converted auditorium would be an understatement. Forty-five minutes of boredom alongside a strong desire to get as far away from the building as possible led Kyle to his locker, throwing in books and taking out his jacket, and out the door before some students had even left their classroom. Before his lack of athletic endurance caught up to him halfway home, he was on pace for a record time. He didn’t have any guilt about not saying goodbye to his few friends, he’d see them online or the next day. They would usually be tied up with conversation (or in John’s case, probably detention) and waiting around in a school that he was no longer beholden to that day was not a priority. As he reached home, he threw his jacket in a corner, tossed his backpack somewhere, and crashed on the couch.

Even home though, he still had obligations to his schoolwork, and despite his regular lack of interest, he didn’t procrastinate. Procrastination, while appealing, led to questions from his father, and came with it a encroaching dread that every second lost to distraction was a second less that this could just be finished. As well, the work today was easy, so a little over an hour after arriving home the homework was done, and Kyle was free to do absolutely nothing. Which was fortunately one of the things he excelled at. He settled in behind the living room computer, and in a blaze of random internet websites and games, the clock hit 9pm, and Kyle heard a sound that made his insides go slightly cold: A truck door slamming from outside.

It wasn’t that Kyle disliked his father, far from it. After his mom had left, his father was the only real family he knew. He was provided and cared for, and he knew that others in his school had double the parents but were not nearly as lucky. It was more that he liked the freedom and privacy of being alone even if he never took advantage of it. His father being home meant a real dinner at the table, whereas the planned dinner shortly was a can of spaghetti rings. Dinner meant questions, both cliché “How was your day” type things and also more pointed questions. Kyle thought his father should be happy enough that the house wasn’t burnt down, which had happened to a freshman last year with too much freedom and not enough sense.

His father came in, and the air changed. They exchanged awkward pleasantries, the son not really wanting his father around, and the father not really sure how to interact with any teenager, let alone his own. They exchanged small talk, on Kyle’s part mainly “Yes”, “Sure”, and so forth, and eventually the two sat down to a dinner of reheated pork chops and applesauce. It wasn’t really a tense atmosphere, just questions, as Kyle predicted, which eventually led to his father attempting to tell stories that would inspire, yet without the shared life experience he just couldn’t relate to much of anything that he was saying. Eventually the meal ended in silence, pleasant “Good Evenings”, and Kyle retreating to his room.

With the security of his room and his belongings, and knowing that his father wasn’t likely to follow him, Kyle changed into his night clothes, and feeling a wave of tiredness, laid down. The room was dark, and for the first time all day, he felt at peace. The silence of the night surrounded him, and it was the one time where he could snuff out the dread of the day and school and communicating with his parent and Brian and everything else, save a few thoughts for Shanna. As he drifted off to sleep, and Monday eventually rolled into Tuesday, there was calm in Kyle Edison’s life for one last time.