Alex
I walk towards the swimming complex on the East side of the school. There are certain facilities that all students in Trinity share, and the pool is one of them. It's enormous, and is cleaned regularly. Clean water for clean people, I guess. Perfects who use this pool can't afford to be contaminated by the germs of too many random Imperfects.
Unfortunately for them, this Imperfect uses the pool more than anyone else, to the point that my essence is probably permanently stuck to the tiles on the pool floor and can't be removed. Twice a day, once in the morning before school traffic starts, and after school until the sun sets and human traffic slows down. Some people call me a swimming maniac, or an aquatic creature in my habitat.
I like to keep myself preoccupied, so I don't have time to think or worry about... things. Things I don't like to think or worry about. Because the more I think or worry about them, the stronger urge I have to reach for the bottle when I get home. And with the Olympics coming up, I have to be in top shape, so I'm staying away from the bottle for a while. Swimming is a convenient distraction, which works out well since I can't drink because I have to swim, and I swim more so I don't drink. It's like the circle of life.
Just as I'm about to reach the doors of the complex, four girls pop out of nowhere and run up to me with small boxes in their hands. I stop in my tracks.
The girls giggle shyly until one girl finally speaks up, "Alex, I was so worried back in the cafeteria during lunch. Your face is too good-looking to be hit like that."
Another pipes in, "That Perfect guy seems like an asshole. Doesn't he know who you are? I don't care about whose son he is. You're Alexander Blackwood! How dare he hit the star of our school..."
"But you seem fine now, you must be so tough," a third girl swoons, batting her eyelashes at me.
"Ah... not really." I laugh uneasily. "I actually have somewhere to be. Maybe we could continue this conversation another time?"
Their eyes light up.
"Oh! Before you go, take these," the first girl says hurriedly. They all shove boxes at me at the same time, I struggle to pile them up in my hands. "Just some little presents from us to cheer you on while you train for the Olympics!"
I nod and smile awkwardly, "Thanks."
As they walk away, laughing giddily, one girl exclaims, "My number's in there. Call me!"
I continue nodding and smiling until they're out of sight, then puff out a breath.
"Yikes."
I take a deep breath, collecting all my thoughts, and fix a stoic expression on my face. I use my shoulder to push the heavy door to the swimming complex open and step inside with a sense of purpose, mentally prepping myself for the conversation I'm about to have.
What's the worst thing that could happen? Well, I could be honest, and tell her the truth about what I've been up to the past two years while she was gone. But that would be too horrible to imagine. Not like she would understand even if I told her. She's a Perfect. This kind of problem is something that only other people like me would understand. She's in the land of Perfect life, Perfect genes, Perfect people now.
What would be the point of telling her anyway? Any moment she could up and go, and not come back for another two years. I could ask her not to go, but seven years of friendship aren't worth anything to her. Not even an explanation. Telling her about my problems would just give her even more reason to stay away from me. This time, I want to be the one who decides that, rather than the one left hanging, wondering where all our years of friendship went.
I hope she doesn't see what happened in the cafeteria as a sign of truce. That didn't have anything to do with her. I was just trying to chase away a wild dog on my lawn. I don't care if it was a Perfect or purebred or whatever. We're barred from entering their turf, so I hate the way they feel like they can step onto ours anytime they like and mess up the peace.
I'm particularly anxious and short-tempered these days, Nate thinks its withdrawal symptoms.
He's a smart kid. I sometimes wonder if he's really my little brother. For a twelve-year-old to make a diagnosis like that, he has to be pretty bright. Meanwhile, algebra equations under the 'easy' category give me headaches.
Anyway, as long as these 'withdrawal symptoms' don't influence my swimming, it's fine.
The complex is still empty at this time. Most of the guys come in around three after going out for a snack at the juice bar across the road. I never go with them, though they've asked me more than a few times, and I've rejected them just as many. I usually just come in early and start practicing straight after school.
I knew that no one else would be around, so I asked her to meet me here rather than any other random corner of the school where our conversation could be heard.
She stands at the other end of the pool, by the back entrance. Her backpack is slung loosely around her back, and her light hair falls in soft waves barely passing her shoulders. She seems to have become thinner, grown taller, just slightly, and her face looks different. Fairer and, more grown up, I guess... prett—
I find myself getting sidetracked again, and quickly get ahold of my senses.
I walk up to her, and put down the boxes on the floor.
"You came," I say detachedly.
"Of course I did," she replies, "Were you expecting me not to?"
"I don't know what to expect from you anymore," I answer. Her face falls, eyebrows knitting together in a frown. She always frowns. She frowns too much, that most of the time I can't tell is she's upset or just thinking hard about something. Probably both at the moment.
"What do you have to say?"
"I-I... We—"
"What could you possibly have to say that could make this okay again?"
Her frown deepens. Is she thinking even harder? Or is she more upset? I can't tell, I'm not good at reading people, especially women.
I look at her coldly. "If you have anything to say, say it quickly. I have to start practice soon."
She chews her lip uneasily, looking down to the ground. I think she's thinking now. After a while, she looks back up at me, staring intensely at me with her wide brown eyes.
"I'm sorry," she says quietly, almost a whisper. I smile bitterly in response.
"The thing about apologies..." I start slowly, "They always come after something has already happened, and usually, by that time..."
I glare back at her with the same intensity, speaking also almost in a whisper, "It's too late."
She's gone silent. She stares at me as if looking at a stranger, which is accurate, I guess. The two of us now are no better than strangers. I can't bring myself to understand her at all, and she knows nothing of the person I've come to be over the course of time we've been apart. I wonder if she's changed, like I have, or if she's always been this way, just that I never saw it before. So selfish... so indifferent to the people she used to call 'friends'.
Maybe it has something to do with the new label on her ID. New ID, new identity. I guess the word 'Perfect' went to her head as soon as it was printed on her ID. She immediately started acting like one: going on the news; disguising herself in public as if she was some celebrity; brushing off the people who cared for her because they weren't worthy of her time.
Did she think that time in the city would stop for her while she went on an extended vacation to show the world her 'miraculous' change in status? Time goes on. It went on. People changed, lives changed, families... changed.
I don't let my mind loiter on that thought.
"I only have one thing to say..." I speak up again, face turning dark. "Stay away from Sterling Crawford."
She seems to weigh my words for a while, then presses gingerly, "Why?"
"He's trouble. You don't want to hang around a guy like that. Haven't you heard about the things he's done? What he did to Parker?"
"Y-Yeah."
"Aren't you scared of him?"
"Honestly..." She looks down at her feet. "At this point, I think I'm more scared of you."