It had been almost 5 days since the big fight. Minus glances in the parking lot as they all walked together or the odd sight of one of them entering or exiting Troy's house, Chris hadn’t seen or spoken to any of his friends. Never before in his life had he ever felt this alone, but regardless of his circumstances he still had to attend the final tests at the evaluation centre. For a year they had all been going through various courses, exercises and routines and soon it’ll all pay off. The courses weren’t anything spectacular; basic maths, English and science exams, trial weeks at various workplaces, verbal examinations, hypothetical situation tests, the list goes on. Though despite their relative simplicity they had still nonetheless been gruelling, or at least they were for those that didn’t already excel academically. Those that had proven to be geniuses in their respected fields were awarded half the credit needed to pass the course as well as mentoring in their field, and you bet that the ego and arrogance came with them luxurious free of charge. Ironic that that nerdy was the new popular. Weird artists, science freaks and the book worms lingering in the dim corners of libraries had all of a sudden become the new top dogs, some were even bold enough to torment those who sat on the low achieving line. It was only in recent memory that Chris could recall what he thought was a rather reserved girl threatening her mocker by promising to tie him to her violin and slice him in half with her bow once he shrunk, a comment that shocked a silenced anyone who had been listening.
As gruesome as her promise was at the time it wasn’t anything uncommon to be heard in the travelling crowds entering and exiting the halls of the evaluation centre. And as the past few days rolled over Chris in his new solitary state, each quip and jive thrown between the snakes of the halls only weighed on him more and more. Each and every touture, every single death threat and the faces of everyone capable of thinking such toxic promises weighed on him constantly as the end of the week came.
“Mr Klien?” rang a voice from outside Chris' trance. He jolted up suddenly, startled by the deep tone that caught his attention. He looked up at the figure looming over him. A fairly uninteresting look man gazed back down. The light from the top of the exam hall gave a white outline to the top of his balding head, but what lack of hair was missing from the top was compensated for with the forming of a bear around the lower half of his face. If Chris had to guess from the colour of his beard and the valleys of age forming on the fold of the man's eyes he had to be in his 40s at least, but if any doubt still lingered to that fact the off white colour of a white shirt that had been worn for more years than Chris cared to know was evidence of this. “You have been excused, everyone else has pretty much left.”.
Chris’ eyes scanned the room to confirm this claim and indeed found it to be true. Though not completely empty, there were only remnants of the anxious young adults filtering through the exit points that had not 10 minutes prior had been still and attentive. It baffled him that he was so deep in his thoughts that he managed to miss an ocean of bodies flow around him. “Right” he mumbled in a dreary tone, “sorry, I was a bit distracted sir” He continued, correcting his initial informal response while shuffling himself onto his feet.
“Think nothing of it young man” chuckled back the round-headed senior, whose towering form had been revealed to be a few inches short of Chris’. “Come, I'll walk you out” he continued before leaning in slightly like a child telling a secret “God knows a need for a smoke before I endure tonight's workload”.
The man's comment did succeed in placing the faintest of smirks on Chris’ face as he began walking towards the exit, “they let you get away with that on-site, sir?”.
“Please call me Simon, or at least Mr Vista, I like to keep the formalities for duty hours” He chuckled, picking up pace with Chris as they made their way to the doors of the hall, “As for your question, they haven’t cared for the past 20 years so why worry now?”. Another smile found its way onto Chris’ face in response to the humorous temperament of the man he had previously recognized as just another generic, boring adult in his life.
“30 years? Is that how long you’ve worked here?” Chris asked, mildly curious as to how anyone could want to work in an examination facility.
“I know what you’re thinking, I don’t look a day over 28. But it’s true my boy, I’m an old man who’s been here a long time” Simon responded, eyes glancing around the hallways they were venturing through in a way someone might reminisce in nostalgia over a place from their childhood.
What had begun as mild curiosity was beginning to grow in Chris’ mind as he observed the man lose himself for a moment in memory and time passed. “What's it like, working in one of these places?”
A low hum echoed in Simon's throat as he pondered the question, “I’ve seen a lot of faces over the years and I remember a lot of names”, he stopped as they reached the exit. His arm held out once again, signalling Chris to take the lead as they walked into the dreary outdoors. “It's not terrible, I get paid an honest wage and the work’s fair” he continued, catching back up to Chris as they made their way into the parking lot, the only place where smoking was permitted. “Anyhow,” He added, in an attempt to change the focus off himself, “aren’t you usually with that group of yours?”
Chris wasn’t sure his soft groans of response was performed mentally or if it manifested itself in the real world, but the twitching eyebrow on Simon's face gave the slightest of hints. The silence continued for a moment longer until Chris broke his facade and exhaled. “It’s a long story...and a boring one” he finally responded, his eyes refusing to meet with Simons.
Though his stubbornness was strong it didn’t stop him from reacting to the nudge of a heavy hand. His attention returned itself to his newly made walking companion who held out a fresh cigarette free for the taking. Hesitantly Chris accepted the offering, wasting little time in lighting it and sucking back that first blissful drag. Though in a steady for graceful manner, Simon did the same. If appearance didn’t show obvious signs of age, then the worn-out, metallic zippo lighter that rose from the Oldtimer pocket towards the end of the slender white stick certainly did. “I see” Simon responded, snubbing out the flame from his archaic lighter and returning it back into the slightly frayed pockets of his uniform, “because if any of us has exciting stories it would be me ay?” He added, this time with a strong scent of smoke and sarcasm on his breath.
Another light laugh left Chris as he continued to drag on his cigarette. “Honestly it’s a silly story. Just a….”, he struggled to find the right for a moment before settling on the least dramatic choice, “a falling out, that kind of thing”.
From behind folded eyelids, two dark eyes rolled. “Drunk I assume?” inquired Simon, though the question was most likely that of rhetoric.
“Only slightly” Chris scoffed back in defence of whatever pride he was trying to project.
Simon shook his head softly and hummed. For a moment Chris could have sworn that the faintest of smirks crept its way onto his face; not one of mockery, but one of reminiscence. It lasted a little longer before the old man’s body stilled itself and a mix of words and a hearty chuckle escaped his lips “When I was a boy, me and a good friend of mine had this feud”, he paused to take a drag before exhaling the smoked his into the air, his eyes following the cloud as he continued to speak. “It was over this girl called sally, a pretty thing she was...a bit dim, but pretty” A squint of confusion creased the upper half of Chris’ face as he tried to figure out where exactly this story was going. But he continued to listen, not wanting to seem ungracious and deny the man attending to his little anecdote. “They got together in the end, made a cute couple in all fairness”.
It was hard to not feel patronised by the cliche tale of a love triangle. He couldn’t tell if the story was just Simon's way of trying to relate to him or his he was implying that Chris’ situation was a simple lovers tiff. He bit back another defensive response, not wanting to seem rude to the man who had curiosity escorted him out and offered him a cigarette. “Do you still talk to either of them?” he responded, deciding to remain passive.
There was a noticeable delay in the answer to Chris’ question to the point that he began to worry that he had accidentally caused some form of offence with an intrusive question. His concern disappeared when Simon's attention finally returned to earth from whatever world of deep thought it lingered in. “Unfortunately not, he got shrunk some months after. Last I saw of him he was heading out to dinner with Sally and her family”. The awkward silence made itself noticed again, allowing both to imagine the possibilities of what may or may not have happened that day. Chris’ train of thought found itself broken fairly swiftly by Simon attempting to reconcile the dreary situation. “Though this is why I always tell you kids, celebrate the day after! Nothing is more humiliating than irony now is it”.
Chris made short work in finishing the rest of his cigarette. Though Simon meant well with his life stories it didn’t stop the situation from feeling awkward. It seemed like regardless of what he tried to do, there was always something to remind him of what would take place tomorrow...what could happen tomorrow.
“Right then!” Simon exclaimed, breaking the silence and dragging Chris back into the world of reality. “It’s getting late, you’ve got a home to get to and I've got work to finish,” he continued. His demeanour had taken a swift turn and was back to the chirpy, pleasant one that had greeted Chris not 10 minutes earlier.
A soft exhale escaped Chris’ mouth as he nodded in agreement. “Thank you for the smoke sir, I’ll see you tomorrow,” he replied. His hands tucked himself into his pockets as he began to shuffle his feet into motion
“You certainly will my boy. I wish you all the best tomorrow”.
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The bus ride home was filled with silence and self-reflection. All of Chirs’ thought and anxieties bubbled as he whats the dimly lit town rush by. Everyone else around him seemed to be trying their hardest to ignore the surrounding world as they stared dazed into the distance as the music echoed through their earphone. It had been years since Chris had to ride the bus; not since he was a young teen. His memories of commuting with his old school friends didn’t seem to be of importance or worth any notoriety but he never remembered people on the bus acting desperately to seem like they are not on a bus. It was an ironic notion, people trapped in a metal tin like sardines; trying to seem like they are doing anything but sitting and waiting for their chance to get off. To Chris, the prospect of following this routine in the future was almost as scary as the idea of shrinking in some ways...almost.
The bus slowed to a stop and the doors swung open to accept another set of passengers. Three preppy college girls all got on one by one, giggling and snickering to each other as they flopped onto a set of seats a few rose in front of Chris. It’s not like their choice of seating was limited by any means, the bus was almost empty at this point. Chris tried his best to pay them no mind, but ignoring a series of laughs and sniggers proved difficult. Every time one of them chirped he couldn't help but quickly glance at their antics. At first, he thought nothing of it, just three girls being loud and obnoxious. However the more he looked the more he noticed they were all looking down at something. The blond sat closest to the window shuffled and lifted her hand. The first thing Chris noticed was the bright pink nails on the ends of each fingertip; long and curved like miniature scimitars. She propped her index finger up so it was level with her eyes and looked down at the tip, smirking a toothy grin through her plump glossy lips. Chris continued stared at the neon acrylic tips for a moment longer, is there’s something on her nail, he thought to himself as he slyly looked on from behind. From this distance, it was hard to make out what it was, but whatever was stuck to the peak of her nail seemed to be wiggling in some fashion as she looked on.
The other two girls simply watched and laughed, one even raising her phone to snap a picture. Whatever it was it seemed very interesting.
“What if your mom finds out” chirped the brunette who was sat next to who was the ring leader.
“She won’t don’t worry” responded the blonde, shaking her head gently. The finger moved closer to her face, stopping a few centimetres from her eye. “Were not going to tell mom anything are we bro?”.
Chris obviously couldn’t see or hear the response from the shrunken sibling that stood atop the bratty teens’ fingernail but he could only guess it was a mixture of begging and agreement to the demands of his domineering sister glancing down on him with a singular, monstrous, all-seeing eye. The three teens continued to laugh and chat between themselves for the next 5 minutes of the journey; tossing the hapless ant size person between themself as they took turns subjecting them to their sneers and taunts. It wasn’t until the ringleader, now dubbed “the sister” spoke up and held her hand out that the shrinkie got a moment of reprieve, “almost at our stop, pass it over!”.
The brunette friends didn’t hesitate to do as instructed, dropping the little man into his sister's palm in what was almost a flinching movement. For a moment there was no chatter, no comments, not even a quip. Instead, the teen simply reached between her lips and gently pulled out a white piece of chewed up gum that glistened in the light thanks to the saliva that settled on his surface. Watching in a curious sense of horror, Chris looked on jaw agape as the girl lowered the gum to her open palm and firmly pushed down. It wasn't visible but one could assume her shrunken brother was screaming and flailing trying to break free from his sticky, goo like prison as useless as his fight may have been. After a few seconds of pressing down her free hand retracted, tilting her head and smiling down as she did so. “Perfect!” she squeaked before pressing the button to signal the bus to stop as the next stop. “Let go girlies”.
The two other brats shuffled and fidgeted about as they propped themselves up, ready to exit the bus upon opening its doors to the cold, slightly dark outside. The sister however seemed to be hunched over, almost like she was trying to look at the under the seat for something. Morbid curiosity shot through Chris’ veins and in a bid to find out what the hell she was up to he too peered underneath the seats in as inconspicuous of a fashion as possible. It was there he saw this girl, this man’s sister, this own flesh and blood glue him to the bottom of her seat with a piece of her chewed up, spit covered gum. Chris couldn’t comprehend it as he sat back up straight. Should he say something? Should he call this girl out? Should he?.... It was too late by the time he snapped out his train of thought. The three teens were already exiting the bus by the time he came around, laughing loud and obnoxious as they exited through the door. The last thing he heard from them as the doors closed was the sister shouting towards the bus, “bye-bye bro, Good luck”.
Their laughter died off, the bus moved and soon it didn’t matter. The gum would dry, and if the shrinky hadn’t already suffocated he surely wouldn’t be getting off the seat any time soon. Chris could only begin to imagine what type of hellish experience it would be. To be forgotten and alone on a public bus as gods sat literally above you as you starved to death. The gum more recognisable than you, a lesser human as far as most of the world was concerned. His eyes stayed fixed to the seat for the duration of his journey. Even as he walked past it he found himself glancing at the seat as his legs carried him past it. He did consider freeing the shrunken prisoner from his torture, but the fear of judgement from the other passengers and the doubt that the tortured soul was even still alive killed any motivation to be this shrinkies saviour.
Retrospective thoughts forced themselves on his mind in some self-indulgence form of regret as Chris left the bus and made his way home. The cold of the draft from the doors opening a thousand times a day.
He made his way to his street and continued to walk, the afternoon now a dark lamplit night. The booming of giants collapsing on the seat as they lazily endured their trip home.
The front door was of course locked, his mother and his sister would already be long-settled from their day. Alone, betrayed, forgotten. Alone, betrayed, forgotten. Alone. Betrayed. Forgotten.
He shook his head hard, trying to break the torment of his wandering mind that was concocting waking nightmares for him on matters that shouldn’t matter to him. Whispering to get a hold of himself, Chris pushed through the door and into the warm embrace of his house. It almost felt comforting in comparison to the abyssal dark that he had just come in from. But his mind was at no more ease than it should have been. It was getting more real by the second that tomorrow would literally be the beginning or the end of his life as he knew it, and for the first time, he really didn’t know what was going to happen.
“Bro?” came a voice from the top of the stairs. “Is that you?” it continued as the sound of feet descending followed.
He cleared his throat and walked further into the house to meet her. “Yea...it’s me” he replied as she came into view.
She smiled and twirled around in her oversized jumper, “haaiii!” she sang, body till swaying playfully from side to side, “Big day tomorrow! Excited?” she added, head now joining in with the sways. Her pastel pink hair followed the sideways motions like spring blossoms raining amidst a tranquil forest. She hopped on the word excited, almost like it was something to look forward to. Was it something people really were excited about? It was hard for Chris to even focus thanks to what was in store for him and yet Rachel was in glee about it as if on his behalf.
“I’ll be happy once it’s over” he sighed, keeping composed as he walked past her to the direction of the stairs.
“Owwah don’t be such a grumpy gut! You’ll be fine” she shouted back, pouting her lips out like some kind of child in spite. She threw her arms in the air as if she was some overly energetic character from a cheesy cartoon before striking an anime like pointing pose, “You got this my G!”
Chris didn’t respond, but he could be heard chuckling to himself as he walked up towards his room. Rachel’s naive bubbly personality was definitely a far cry from the dread he had been feeling all day. It helped. But his mind couldn’t simply wipe away that other Rachel, the one from his dream that cast him to the dark confine of her underwear and the all too real one that had devoured that helpless girl right before his eyes for nothing more than some domineering entertainment...
The night passed by quicker than normal, Chris’ desperate attempt to savour his last evening of peace was a failure to be sure. The most he achieved was smoking half a packet of cigarettes and listening to at least 3 full albums while he laid on his bed staring at the ceiling. It was almost as if his brain had given up on trying to be remotely proactive at this point. The sounds of his mother returning home soon echoed through the halls of the house followed by Rachels greetings only to there soon after replaced by the creeping silence of the house settling down. There was no exchange between Chris and his mother, not even as much as a soft knock on the door to ensure he was home safe and sound. She simple retired to her room. As such Chris decided it was best to respect this established routine and rolled over in his bed, despite his yearning need of maternal comfort...as if for once in his life he needed nothing more than his mothers’ consolidation.
The hours of sleepless dreaming rolled on. An untamed mind unable to settle thanks to a near-infinite fuel source of anxiety building in Chris’ chest. It wasn’t until the startling buzz of his phone next to his head shocked him back to reality that his uneasy temperament settled. Lazily, he clawed at his phone a brought it to his eyes, the lights of its display near blinding him as he winced at the message on the screen. The first thing he noticed was the sender’s name “Troy”. Eyes widening Chris propped himself up.
“What on earth does he want?” he muttered down at the screen as he unlocked the device to view the text.
Just a simple sentence sat before him, “Come to the party tomorrow bro, we got some stuff to talk about”.