The Perfect World (The Perfect World Series Book 1) (17 page)

“They agree because they have to,” Scott said flatly. “I thought it was boring and stupid. I know I’m not alone on that, even if you say that I am.”

“You don’t really believe that, do you Mr. Strago?” Ms. Kara almost seemed to be pleading with Scott to change his mind. “I think most of the students in this class liked the story and said so because they meant it.”

“I don’t agree,” Cyrus piped up, trying to deflect some of the heat from his friend. “I don’t understand the point of reading these different stories. The names and places change, but they’re all the same story. They’re all boring.”

“Exactly,” Scott muttered darkly, with his head on his crossed arms.

“It seems I have no choice,” Ms. Kara said with a sigh as she looked at both Cyrus and Scott. “It is clear you have some form of sickness that needs to be taken care of. I will have to inform your caretaker about your behavior today.”

She turned away from the pair of children and continued the lesson as if nothing had occurred. In response, Scott started ripping up pieces of his crumpled up story and throwing them to the floor. Cyrus watched this behavior as unease began to build in his stomach. He glanced across the room when he felt eyes watching him, and he saw that Melody was staring at him, an expression of worry clear on her face.

When school finished, and they went back to their floor, Cyrus walked inside his room and waited for a visit from Ms. Mary. It didn’t take long for her to come in and inform him that he was sick. He was to stay in his room for the next three days for the good of the other students. She left quickly after that as if she didn’t want to stay in the same room as him for longer than necessary.

That evening, Cyrus expected to see Scott waiting for him in the bathroom and was surprised when he was nowhere to be found. In fact, Cyrus didn’t see Scott at all for the entire three-day period. Worried, Cyrus penned Scott a short note asking if he was okay. He also added that Scott needed to calm down. He waited for a reply, but he received none.

The only interruption he had from the total monotony of his sick days came from Melody. The first day of his forced absence from school, he heard the familiar whoosh of paper being pushed under his door. He snatched it from the floor and read it.

Cyrus,

I hope you and Scott are doing okay. I wish you were at school today. I don’t like it when you’re not there.

Melody

Cyrus folded the note back up and stuck it into his pocket, feeling a little lighter. It wasn’t much, but just knowing someone else cared about him was a source of comfort. He took out the note and read it several more times over the next three days.

When the three days were over and Cyrus was allowed to return to school, he expected to see Scott standing in the line in front of him. To his dismay, Scott was nowhere to be seen. It was another two days before Scott returned to school. As soon as they were seated and Ms. Neva was busy talking, Cyrus turned to Scott and whispered to him in a low voice.

“Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” Scott’s whisper was clipped and edgy.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” The word came out as a hiss. Scott’s eyes were focused on his desk as if he were determined not to look at Cyrus. Cyrus wanted to say more, but Ms. Neva began eyeing the pair of them, so he decided against it.

Cyrus became more relieved as the day passed without incident. Scott spent the day sulking in his chair, but that was preferable to him causing trouble. By the time PE class came around, Cyrus was almost feeling cheerful.

Mr. Warden led them onto the grassy field and told them they were playing dodgeball. The game consisted of two teams, one of which had a large red ball to throw at the opposing team. The team with the ball threw the ball at a certain person on the other team while the person being thrown at stood completely still. Upon being hit, they were out and sat down. The team with the ball won once every person on the opposing side was sitting down.

Cyrus almost hated dodgeball as much as he hated soccer. The only upside to dodgeball was that he could throw the ball decently. He waited until the teams were decided and was disappointed when the other team got the ball first. True, no one person ever handled the ball for long, but it was better than standing around waiting to get hit.

He watched as his teammates got hit with the ball and sat down. He cringed when the ball was thrown into Melody’s face, but she just laughed it off as she sat down. It took a couple of tries for his opponent to hit him, but finally the red ball clipped his shoulder, and he sat down on the ground.

His green eyes moved to Scott, who was standing a few paces away from him as it was his turn to get hit with the ball. Scott had an unfriendly expression on his face, and his eyes watched the ball carefully at it was about to be thrown at him. The ball would have connected had Scott not moved to the side and let the ball hit the ground beside him. When the ball bounced back up, he caught it and threw it back with one swift movement. The red dodgeball hit the student on the other team square in the shoulder, then bounced away unnoticed.

The entire class watched the incident roll out in amazement. When it was over, every pair of eyes was glued to Scott, wondering what was going to happen next. Cyrus’s heart sank as Mr. Warden called Scott’s name and asked him to come stand next to him. He watched as Mr. Warden moved Scott out of earshot and made him sit down next to the fence in full view of one of the black armored guards. Before the class had ended, Cyrus saw Ms. Mary come and pull Scott to his feet. She kept Scott’s wrist in her hand as she dragged him back towards their building.

Cyrus could barely remember how the rest of the PE class went. All he wanted was to go back to his room and speak with Scott. He hoped the shorter boy would be in the bathroom this time so that they could talk. He was disappointed when Scott was nowhere to be seen that afternoon.

He sat on his bed and put his head in his hands, wondering what he should do. Scott got angry from time to time, that he’d known for a long time, but it was never this frequent. He had been warned before that if he was sick too many times he would be quarantined. He didn’t know what it meant to be quarantined exactly, but he figured it would be similar to what happened with Ms. Linda. Scott would just disappear, and Cyrus would be left to guess what had become of him.

That thought alone brought an icy chill to Cyrus’s body. He couldn’t bear the thought of Scott being gone after everything they had been through. After all, Scott was the first friend he’d had in the entire building. He didn’t know what he’d do if he didn’t have someone to talk about the things happening around them.

I’ve got to try to calm him down somehow, Cyrus thought anxiously as he tugged at his hair. The question is how? I’ve never seen him get sick this often before.

Cyrus lingered in his room, getting more anxious as time passed. When his lock finally clicked during the evening, he rushed out and was filled with great relief to see Scott standing by one of the sinks.

“Scott,” he started to say, but he trailed off when he saw the state of Scott’s hands. They were scratched up again, and there was a red stain on the wall.

Cyrus opened his mouth to scold the other boy, then closed it. It wouldn’t help anything. Instead, he went into the stall, rolled up some toilet paper and ran it under the sink. Silently, he took one of Scott’s hands and rubbed at the bloody cuts. He continued to do this until Scott’s hands were clean, then turned his attention to scrubbing the blood off the wall.

“Scott,” he said as he wiped the last of the blood from the bathroom wall, “what is going on with you?”

Scott still wasn’t looking at him. “I don’t know.”

“Is it because of the computer thing?” Cyrus pondered aloud. “Look, we should be getting new computers soon. Once we do, we can use the dictionary and—”

“This isn’t about the computers!” Scott snapped at him, throwing his hands down.

“Then what is it?” Cyrus demanded, trying to be patient. “Why are you acting like this?”

“Because of this place!” Scott shouted at him, making Cyrus wince. “The way things are! All of it! Everything! I—”

He trailed off and Cyrus noticed his hands were shaking. Scott met his eyes then, and he saw that they were shining with tears. “I can’t stand this place. Our teachers, our caretaker, the things we’re told to believe—all of it is fake. I know it. I know it, but yet I’m told every day I’m wrong. Every day I have to listen to them tell me things I don’t believe, and I can’t say a word back. I can’t say anything because I’m not allowed and because they have an entire system that says they’re right.” Scott closed his eyes, his posture slackening. “I don’t have anything to prove what I believe.”

“We have the dictionary,” Cyrus reminded him. To his dismay, Scott laughed away his words, a cold, bitter laugh.

“Yes, we have a dictionary, but you know what? All it can do is define words for us. It can’t stand up against an entire system! It can’t even answer all our questions.” Scott placed his hands over his heart and stared at Cyrus earnestly. “That’s what’s making me so angry! I’m stuck thinking about how I can’t speak up when I don’t agree or how I can’t ask any questions. I think about how I don’t have a choice about what I can learn or when I can leave my room. I think about it all the time, and it makes me so mad.”

“Then don’t,” Cyrus answered calmly. “Stop thinking about it.”

“I try not to!” Scott shouted back at him angrily. “Don’t you think I try not to? But how can I stop thinking about it when it’s all around us? When this is what we live like every day? When nobody tells us anything about why we’re here or why things are the way they are? How can I forget about it when it’s everywhere? When it’s all around us and there’s no place to go …”

Abruptly, Scott leaned back against the wall and slid to the floor. He drew his legs up and wrapped his skinny arms around them. As he leaned his head down and his dark hair fell forward, Cyrus noticed that he had started crying. Cyrus sat down beside his friend  as the silent tears slid down his cheeks.

“Scott,” Cyrus said softly, reaching a hand out to touch his shoulder. Then he stopped and let the hand fall. He had no idea what he could do to make this situation better. All he knew was that he didn’t want to do anything to make the situation worse.

“I’m sorry,” Scott said in a shaky voice, “for getting you in trouble earlier.”

Cyrus was quick to shake his head. “Don’t be. You know me. I get myself into trouble all the time. You had nothing to do with it.”

Scott nodded but said nothing else.

“I know it’s hard being here. I don’t like it any more than you do, but,” Cyrus paused, trying to find the right words, “I’m glad that you’re here. It would be so much worse if you weren’t.”

A faint smile graced Scott’s face at the words. “I’m glad you’re here too, Cyrus.”

“Are you going to be okay now?” Cyrus asked as they both got to their feet.

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

“But you’ll try to calm down, right?” Cyrus pleaded, desperation clear in his voice. “You can’t keep getting sick like this Scott!”

Scott looked away, hastily walking past him. “I’ll try, but I can’t make any promises.”  

“Scott!” Cyrus called out, but Scott had already left to go back to his room. Cyrus was left staring at empty space with no reassurances and a growing amount of unease that wouldn’t leave him no matter how much time had passed.

Though Cyrus was very anxious after their talk the other night, he found that perhaps Scott was really trying to calm down. A week passed without any incidents, and Cyrus began to relax. Then, to Cyrus’s great relief, their computers were finally replaced, and their teachers informed them that their computer classes would resume by Friday. Cyrus allowed himself the hope that once Friday evening came, everything would calm down and go back to normal.

When Friday morning arrived and the class was on their way, Cyrus felt completely at ease. Scott hadn’t been involved in any incidents, and their computers classes would begin after school once more.

Just one more day, he thought as he sat down in his chair at school. Just one more day and then everything will be fine.

And it was fine until math class came around. The class had been working on fraction simplification for weeks. Math was always one of the slowest paced classes at their school, but this subject matter had been dragging on for longer than usual. The drag was grating on everyone’s nerves, but Scott’s most of all.

Class began with everyone completing the same couple of problems they had been working on for weeks. Cyrus finished them quickly and allowed himself to be drawn into a dazed stupor as Ms. Neva started speaking.

“Now class, can everyone tell me what the simplified version of this fraction is?” she said in a tone that told them all that she didn’t expect anyone to answer. No one did, but judging by the number of people who were staring off into space, they were all as bored with the lesson as Cyrus was.

“I didn’t think so. It seems nobody understands fractions in this class.”

“It’s one-half.”

Cyrus was immediately drawn out of his stupor by the sound of Scott’s voice. Dread gripped him all over again as he saw Scott’s posture and facial expression looked very unfriendly. His eyebrows were down, making him look very angry. Cyrus’s fear grew even worse when he saw the fire back in his friend’s eyes.

“Now, since
no one
understands these problems,” Ms. Neva said making it clear she had heard the response, but did not care to address it, “let’s try another problem. Everyone, what is this?”

For a moment, no one answered, but then Scott cut in with his resolute voice and said, “It’s three-fourths.”

“Hmm … it seems like no one answered again,” their teacher said with a certain smugness. Scott’s fists balled in anger at being ignored as she wrote more problems on the board.

“Scott, come on,” Cyrus urged, trying to grip his friend’s arm. Scott pushed him off abruptly. Cyrus tried again, only to face the same result. “Please calm down! Please!”

“Now, class, can everyone answer these problems?”

The silence in the room was palpable. Everyone was waiting to see what would happen next. For a moment, Cyrus thought Scott might have decided to bite his tongue. His hopes were shattered a moment later as his friend opened his mouth and said in an unapologetic voice:

“One-half, three-eighths, four-fifths and six-eighths,” Scott spoke defiantly, his posture rigid and angry.

Ms. Neva finally eyed him coolly, though she did not seem angry with him. There was a cruel gleam in her eyes. Cyrus didn’t like the look of her or the attention she was turning on Scott.

“It seems we have a very sick child here,” she remarked nonchalantly as she walked outside the classroom. She reappeared in the doorway a moment later and motioned to someone outside of their view. “That’s all right though. We have our own way of dealing with such problems so that they don’t occur again.”

What does she mean by that?
Cyrus thought fearfully. He turned to Scott to see that even when the threat had been voiced, he still looked the same. His anger was nearly tangible, and the fire in his eyes was steadily burning.

“Scott …” Cyrus whispered in concern.

Scott turned to glance at him when his name was called. The expression that Scott gave him was not one of anger. It was one of apathy, as if he couldn’t care less about anything that was happening or would happen due to his actions. Cyrus felt a bit shocked as Scott turned away at the sound of heavy footfalls.

Soon enough, the guards came and flanked Scott. They forced him to his feet, their hands gripping his arms, and they led him out of the classroom. The door shut behind them with a short snap. Then class continued on as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

Cyrus wanted nothing more than to jump out of his seat and race after Scott and the guards, but he forced himself to remain seated. He forced himself to go through the motions of the day while he nearly worried himself sick.

I’ve never seen anyone get led away by those armored guards before, no matter how sick they were. Cyrus gnawed on his lip. What should I do? Is there anything I
can
do?

Cyrus didn’t have the answer, but he knew there was one thing he wouldn’t do: give up.

As soon as he was sent back to his room after school had ended, he sat on his bed and waited for the lock to click open. He needed to see Scott, just to talk to him. A sense of urgency was gripping him, and he couldn’t shake it. 

After what seemed like eons, his door clicked open, and he sprinted into the hallway. He burst into the bathroom and shouted in hope and desperation into the small room.

“Scott? Scott, are you here?”

The only response he got was the echo of his own voice. The room was empty, and there was no trace of the shorter boy. Cyrus slumped against one of the walls and placed a hand over his eyes. He fought back a few tears and tried to steady his hand. He was surprised to find it was shaking. Disappointment and fear filled him as he went back to his room.

The next couple of hours were pure torture to the young man. His thoughts were plagued with images of Scott and what could happen to him. He did his homework on his computer with the others, he saw Ms. Mary come in to take his garbage, but none of these activities took away from his worry.

At one point, he went to the wall that separated him from his friend and leaned his head against it. He pressed his palms against it and pushed as if he could knock down the wall between them. He stood that way for a long time before realizing it was just another useless gesture. He sat back down on his bed with a sigh.

Finally, he thought of one way he could communicate with the silent Scott. He took out his notebook and tore a piece of paper from it. He scribbled a few words on it, wishing he knew what to say, but he forced himself to write down the best words he could think of.

Scott, he wrote quickly. I need to talk to you. Please talk to me. I want to help you! Cyrus

He hoped the note would be enough to draw his friend out of hiding. After another interminable amount of waiting, the door to his room opened, and he rushed out. He pushed the note underneath Scott’s door, then walked to the bathroom like he was supposed to. He felt a little better, but he was still uneasy.

He laid down on his bed again, and he stared at the wall in front of him, trying to think of ways to communicate with Scott. Then, he sat up abruptly as a new thought occurred to him. He went over to the wall and knocked on it.

“Scott?” he asked tentatively, knocking again, “Scott, can you hear me?”

He didn’t receive a reply, but part of him didn’t expect to. He didn’t know how thick the walls were or if the other boy could hear him. Still, he thought he may as well try out his idea.

“I don’t know if you can hear me, but I just want you to know I’m worried about you. Answer me if you can, okay?”

His voice was shaky as he finished, and he tried his best to control it. After waiting and receiving no response, he figured his friend hadn’t heard him or was ignoring him. He wasn’t sure which it was, but neither option really helped Cyrus’s current mood.

His dinner of turkey covered in lumpy brown gravy with equally lumpy potatoes came down the food slot to serve as his dinner. Cyrus picked at his food, not feeling the slightest bit hungry.

Ms. Mary came in to pick up his trash, eyeing him warily as she always did. Cyrus ignored her, too tired and worried to really care about her presence. She left without a word to him, and he wasn’t sorry about it. He never liked her being around him anyway.

He closed his eyes and pictured Scott clearly in his mind. His friend was sitting next to him in the classroom, rolling his eyes at him after some stupid thing their teachers had told them. He remembered when they were kids, and how the pair of them would repeat everything the teacher would say in a monotone or funny voice. He remembered how comforting it was to have found even one person who understood how he felt.

Rolling over onto his side, he finally managed to fall into an uneasy sleep. Cyrus was being plagued with unpleasant dreams when a jolt went through his body. The young man woke up abruptly when he heard a large banging sound. He looked around his room for a bit, wondering where it had come from. He heard more of these loud bangs before he discovered the source of the noise. They were coming from Scott’s room.

Ice cold fear gripped his heart as he raced over to the door and tried to pull it open. He didn’t know what the sounds were, but he knew they weren’t good. He struggled vainly with the door, pulling and tugging as hard as he could. The lock stood firm, and finally Cyrus fell back, collapsing to the floor.

He sat back up quickly and that’s when he heard cries coming from the next room. He would know that voice anywhere. It was Scott, crying out in a panicked voice.

“What are you doing? Let me go! Let me GO!” he heard his friend holler at the top of his lungs.

“Scott!” Cyrus yelled through his wall and started banging on it. He didn’t know what good it did, but he had to do something. Anything. “What’s going on?!”

“Let me go!” he heard again through the door. It was clear they had moved to the hallway. “Let me—!”

The sound of Scott’s cries became muffled, and Cyrus could no longer make out the words. He went over to the door, tugged at it a little more before giving up. Instead, he started to bang his fists furiously against the door, tears welling up in his eyes.

“Scott!” he shouted, punching the door with all his might over and over again. He ignored the growing pain in his hands, wishing only to reach his friend. “SCOTT!”

Suddenly, his door swung open, and he fell back to the floor. When he looked up, he saw himself staring up at one of the black clad guards. The mask was glowing green in the light, and he felt eyes staring down at him with ill-intent. The flashing white light coming from the hallway only intensified his feelings of dread as the figure walked towards him.

“No!” Cyrus shouted, feeling incredibly frightened. “Stay away!”

“Cyrus? Cyrus, run for it!” he heard Scott shout, his voice sounding farther away than before.

“Scott! I’m coming!” he said as he tried to leap past the advancing guard. The black armored guard caught him by his shirt and pulled him back. Cyrus twisted and turned in the tight grip, trying desperately to get free and find Scott.

Before long, Cyrus found a cloth pressed over his face. He struggled for a few more seconds before he began to feel very tired. His eyelids started to droop, and his body started to feel weak.

No … he thought sleepily. I can’t sleep … I must … I must get free … Scott … Save …Scott …

His eyelids shut on their own, and he knew no more.