dizzy.

Hello Euphoria

Chapter 1

Hello Euphoria
Turnover

The beginning is always simple and shallow. It's reflexive, like the first stride of a run. The countless miles ahead are not traversed so effortlessly. September has rolled around again and I'm not looking forward to nine more months of monotony. Mom wants me to cherish my senior year.
"I miss it so much! I was a cheerleader, you know. '' As if she'd ever let me forget. In all of my middle school years, and the past three years of high school, I've never had anything to say when she asks,
"How was your day Iris?" She takes my lack of enthusiasm personally. I don't like making her sad. It seems like my life has always been a bit boring. It's easy for me to blend into the cinder block walls of Crown Point High School. It's all gray. Gray walls, gray lockers. Even the sky is gray here. Sometimes I kinda like it. It's like I'm in a dimension where I can live and act and see the world, but the world cannot see me. I can breathe. I float around the halls like a ghost.
I'm a different person outside of school. I've got two friends, Jade Parker and Christopher Adams. I don't worry much about anyone but them. We spend our time promoting acts of stupidity. Particularly, pranks. For whatever reason, we collect traffic signs. Every time we see one we don't already have in the Abyss, we have to take it. We don't chicken out. Ever. The Abyss is this abandoned shack we found in the woods by Cedar Lake. The place sucks things up, never to be seen again by mankind. I go there by myself sometimes when I need to get away. Sometimes I'll find Iris cooped up with a book in the corner, or Chris laying down and smoking a blunt, using a pile of leaves as a pillow. It's our place.
The only good thing about going back to school is autumn. I make the ten minute drive with my windows rolled down. My hair is a mess, but the air feels nice. I think about how strange the school system is. They had us reading The Giver by Lois Lowery in the 3rd grade, as if any of us had the depth to understand the true implications of the story. The story is about a sheltered reality that was created to stop the possibility of any commotion in society. They repress every multi-faceted emotion. Negativity, passion, and complexity aren't allowed. You know what else isn't allowed? Change. I wonder if The Giver was just some sad attempt to tap into our subconscious and suck the creativity out of it. I do what I'm asked and I don't question it. I don't really care about anything enough to question anything. It's hard to drive myself to care about almost anything that happens. Maybe their attempts weren't so futile. High school today is basically a worldwide reenactment of the Stanford Prison Experiment. It's on the brink of cruel, but it never goes quite as haywire of course.
I find a spot close to the school and sit idle for a minute. I don't want to go in because that means an entire year is starting. The cycle just keeps rolling along. It's a train with a conductor who keeps a tight schedule. It never ends. I'm stuck in my thoughts when Christopher  knocks on my window. Most people just call him Chris, but I've known him since preschool, and old habits die hard. He holds up a baby blue lighter, waving his finger through the flame in time like a pendulum. I crank down the window, and he smiles as he puts the lighter back in his pocket. My car is so old that the windows must be cranked down. I've got a 1990 Nissan Silvia. And it's purple. I'm pretty sure I was conceived in this car. I don't think my parents thought that one through. It's not the most inconspicuous of shades.
"What are you, five? What are you so happy about?" I question and laugh.
"You are looking at a changed man," he says with a smirk on his face. No way.
"You did not."
"Yes I did." He smiles. He spent his summer filing for emancipation. He takes his lanyard out of his pocket and pulls a shiny gold key out of the tangled bulky mess. He holds it over his head like it's an Olympic medal. I don't think I've seen a wider smile, except maybe that of the Cheshire Cat. Christopher had this set of foster parents—one of the only couples he liked—that would just leave him at home while they traveled the world. We'll never know how they got away with it. My guess is they paid some pushover to stay silent. Christopher loved it, though. He got to be alone in this house in the Heights and throw huge parties that the maid would clean up afterward. His warning of their arrival would always arrive in the mail one day before their return—some random tourist shop key-chain. Christopher went on for a year like that with no police scares, but he eventually got transferred to another home. That home just so happens to be on my street. Anyway, the key.
"So that means...?" I trail off. He's literally giddy.
"I got an apartment. It's only like a ten minute walk from the Abyss," he says smugly. I'd be jealous, but I know how hard he has to work for it. I'm too lazy to show up to school. I can't imagine how I'd get myself to work for fifty hours of every week. Just then, someone hops into the passenger side of my car. My heart stops for a split second and then returns to its rhythm once I realize it's just Jade. I'm shocked for a second time by the sight of her hair. It's pink now.
"I swear I facetimed you like seven hours ago and your hair was not that color," I say, amused. She smiles wryly.
"I can't be stopped, sweetheart."
I just laugh at her and shake my head. I don't think I could ever dye my hair. It's a dull auburn color by nature, and I like it. It blends in. I have so much I want to ask her, but I am interrupted.
"We should probably head inside you guys. It's almost 7:30," Chris says, looking at his old watch. We agree, and I start to gather my stuff as Jade hops out of the car. They start walking away, and stop to wait for me by the sidewalk.
"Hey guys, just head in without me. I need a minute," I yell out the window. I see them exchange a glance through the rear-view mirror. It's a knowing look. I do this a lot, I guess. I don't mean to.
"Alright Eyeball. See you at lunch," Christopher says. That stupid pet name. Something's off about his tone. He's worried. Jade mutters a goodbye too, and they keep walking on the path toward the front entrance. I sigh. The first day of the last-worst year of my life. I turn up my music and watch the rising sun. The light reflecting off the rear-view mirror creates a rainbow that cascades over my dashboard. It's the only thing I can see that's not gray. I twist my keys to turn off the engine, and I push open the car door. There's this dramatic thing my dad always said to me when I was a kid.
"Dreaming is the saving grace that will protect us from the pitfalls of reality."
I never thought about what that meant before. Now I have to bash it into my head just to stay awake.