As he was thrown off his feet, the would-be-thief thought maybe he had made a rather poor choice. He didn’t mean for their prank to get out of hand. This was just what he and his friends did; find chances to have a laugh at other’s expense. These laughs were harmless, or so he thought; something to look forward to in an otherwise dull, and sometimes terrifying world. Rarely did their pranks have any real consequences.
Today, the consequences were quite real—and fast.
CLUNK
Thrown off his feet, the goon barreled over as the gym bag flew from his grip. He tumbled into a patch of sidewalk hidden beneath the shadow of a dreary-looking apartment, shaking. The sidewalk was cool on his cheeks; suddenly he felt an overwhelming urge to have a nap. If he laid there quietly, perhaps all of his bad decisions that day would go away by themselves.
Victorious, Devon picked up his bag and headed back towards the bus stop. No sooner did he turn around that he saw his other assailant, Jaxton fumbling with his phone.
“OK, this man assaulted me and my friends,” Jaxton said, putting on a pathetic and sniveling expression. “Everyone look at this assaulter. Get him on camera.”
Devon couldn’t help but laugh. The whole thing was ridiculous and only getting worse. He shook his head and kept on walking to the bus.
At seeing his reaction, Jaxton’s eyes flashed. He bit down on his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood.
“What’s so fuckin’ funny, feather-hat?”
“Dude… assaulter?” Devon tried and failed to surprise a smile.
“Cause you fucking did it!” snarled Jaxton.
Devon maintained his smile, shaking his head. This whole incident was near fermenting with idiocy and was getting above Devon’s pay grade, as the saying goes. “You’re saying I assaulted you? Bro, you tried to grab my hat and your buddy over there stole my bag!”
“No, we didn’t!” Jaxton said breathlessly. “We didn’t—stop lying. More lies—” Jaxton was panting from the sheer force of adrenaline pumping through his veins. “—more lies from feather-hat, everyone!”
“The hell is wrong with you? Yes, you did! I heard you, you stupid-ass!” Devon said.
Jaxton shoved his phone in Devon’s face. Devon swatted it away. “See, everyone?” Jaxton snarled. “Did you see what he just did? More assault. More lies and assault from feather-hat. Get a look at his face! Get a good look… the assaulter and the liarist, everyone! Let’s get his name out there! #FeatherHat!”
Liarist? Where did these kids go to school? Not that Devon went to a particularly great school growing up, but he would have gotten his ass kicked for using a word like ‘liarist’. Kids these days…
…except Devon was only 22. That thought gave Devon a pause. There was something wrong about feeling so old at such a young age. Devon couldn’t be much older than the young man posturing and preening and shoving his phone in Devon’s face, all of which Devon wouldn’t have dreamed of doing. What happened to the world that brought such a gap between them?
Devon decided the best thing to do was to ignore them.
He marched back towards the bus stop with his bag while Jaxton followed, flitting around him like a summer fly, getting him on camera at all angles. A few people across the street also had their phones out, recording no doubt. Devon seethed. At that moment it seemed the entire world would not leave him alone and let him wear his own goddamn hat.
Meanwhile, Jaxton became ever more frantic in his attempts to get a reaction out of Devon, hurling insults in all kinds of nasty flavors.
“Leave. Me. Alone.” Devon snapped.
“No. Fucking make me, you stupid feather-hat wearing fuck. We were just messing around and you had to make it an escalation.”
Devon’s eyes widened.
“Oh, you were messing around?”
“—and you went and assaulted us!”
Devon laughed. “So you admit it, you were messing with me. You just admitted on camera, it was you who started this.”
Jaxton’s eyes widened. There was a beat of infuriated silence.
“No. That’s not what I—I didn’t say that! Don’t fucking gaslight me!”
This had gone on long enough. Devon turned around, spreading his arms in aggressive frustration. Jaxton recoiled as Devon shouted. “Gaslight? Bro, I’m waiting for a fucking bus! The hell do you want from me? Go back to school or something— stop acting like a fuckin’ goon.”
Off in the distance came the soft rumbling of bus wheels. Devon closed his eyes and prayed:
Please, please let it be the 712. Please get me out of here. I just wanna go to the Convention and be done with this crazy goon.
As Devon was waiting, one of Jaxton’s friends came over and put his hand on his shoulder.
“Yo, Jaxton, just let it go man, let’s go check on Kaier, he’s still laying on the sidewalk. I think he’s got a concussion or somethin’”
Jaxton snapped his friend’s hand away. Adrenaline laced sweat dripped off Jaxton’s face and soaked into his shirt until the young man was stinking with hormone-laced aggression. “Don’t fucking touch me, Steve, I swear to god.
Steve pulled his hand back. “Bro, relax, you’re tilting hard right now!”
“And don’t fucking tell me to relax! Nobody asked your opinion, grandpa… you and your old-man-name, fuck you!”
Steve put his hands up. “Hey man, you know how I feel about my name. You don’t gotta throw insults at me like that. "
Jaxton screwed his face and voice into a mockery of a toothless old man, holding up a shaking, arthritic finger for effect as he wheezed:“Oh me, oh my, you don’t need to throw insults young man, my name is Steven, I was born long ago in 2002… shut up!” Jaxton’s face snapped back to its original shape and voice with rather impressive speed.“I’m not tilting, and if I am, it’s all ‘cause of fucking feather-hat over th—Hey! Don’t you fucking walk away from me, feather-hat! You think you can just walk away after assaulting a student—HEY GET BACK HERE, I’M NOT DONE WITH YOU, YOU FEATHER-HAT-WEARING FUCK!”
Success! Sure enough, the trusty 712 bus had just turned a corner and began its long-awaited journey to the station. Devon’s heart swelled with relief. While Jaxton was busy arguing with Steve, Devon made a break for the bus. He started off at a brisk walk, hoping that he could get on the bus without anyone noticing .Devon only got about half way before hearing from behind: “…ACK HERE, I’M NOT DONE WITH YOU, YOU FEATHER-HATTED FUCK!” Behind Devon came the sound of pounding feet and an incensed Jaxton tearing after him, phone in hand, still recording. Devon made a break for it, sprinting as fast as he could back towards the bus station. Some new riders had gathered at the stop to watch, a few of them secretly recording on their own. But Devon didn’t care—the sooner he could get on the bus, the sooner this stupid idiocy would be over. As the bus pulled closer, Devon noticed the front of the bus was adorned with a black “pill” affixed above the driver’s seat. Behind the steering
Breathless and grateful, Devon took out his own code and scanned both his bus pass and pandemic code. A pleasant chime signaled that the passenger had both fare money and a clean history of infectious diseases that could cause harm to society. He lifted his bag above his head to squeeze his way down the aisle towards a pair of open seats. Exhausted, he plopped down hard on the seat and leaned his head back on the headrest. Cool air blew on his face and, though it was like breathing into an open refrigerator, Devon sighed with relief. The Convention hadn’t even started yet and he was utterly exhausted. It should not have been such a production just to get on the bus—all over a stupid hat! The hat was becoming more trouble than it was worth. He considered taking the hat off and throwing it in his bag. But another, more stubborn part of him insisted he keep the hat on. And why not? There was no law saying that a man couldn’t wear a hat with a feather in the brim. There was no re
Jaxton leaned with his shoulder and burst through the doors, which gave way with a cracking squeak. There was a flurry of gasps from the riders. A few of them took out their phones and recorded as Jaxton tried to storm his way down the aisle towards where Devon sat. Another alarm went up from the bus: “ATTENTION—NON-STANDARD ENTRY DETECTED. PLEASE SCAN BUS PASS AND PANDEMIC PREVENTION CODE. ATTENTION—” Some of the riders closer to the driver’s side covered their ears to stifle out the terrible grating alarm. Why did it have to be so loud? “Will someone shut that damn thing off?” “It’s an automated system, yelling isn’t going to fix anything!” “YOU’RE A FUCKING AUTOMATED SYSTEM!” “Oy…so early, all this shouting is…that’s what I get for taking the bus.” Noise upon shouting upon noise. The bus driver pawed at a few buttons at the control panel and managed to shut off the alarms and the announcements, but the passengers were now in a thoroughly soured mood. Meanwhile, middle-a
The driver restarted the bus’s self-driving systems. With sloth-slowness, the bus dragged itself from the station, leaving Jaxton behind. As they did, Jaxton pulled himself up from the sidewalk, a glaring of pure hatred burning in his eyes. Just before the bus turned a corner, Devon saw Jaxton fish out his phone from his pocket and snap a picture. “Guess his hand was fine after all,” Devon said. Adrenaline rushed from his body, and Devon suddenly felt exhausted. His legs shook, and he had an odd craving for ice cream—nothing fancy, just a simple ice cream with some chocolate coating. Even one of the fake ones would do. Sadly, there wouldn’t be any ice cream chances for a good few hours. He made he was back to his seat, his duffel bag jammed into the footrest space. Next to him sat the middle-aged woman dabbing at her face with a wet washcloth that filled the seats with an overpowering scent of lemon sherbet. “My goodness,” began the middle-aged lady. “That is definitely going
Devon sniffed and wiped at his nose. “Sorry,” he said. “Allergies, I think.” “Mm-hmm. ‘Allergies’.” Carla pulled out a few tissues from her bag. “Very convenient that you men get allergies when you talk about your feelings.” She smiled knowingly. “Now look, whatever’s going on with you and your family ain’t gonna get solved in the span of one bus ride—ooh, and speaking of which, my stop is coming up soon. Here’s what I want you to do—add my contact info, and if you ever find yourself in trouble or you need someone to talk to, I want you to add me, understand?” Devon smiled. “Yes, Ma’am.” “Oh, don’t call me that!” Carla gave Devon a gentle slap on the arm. “I’ll be your auntie from now on—and I’m serious. You find yourself in trouble, you give me a holler, you hear me?” “I will Miss Carla… I mean Auntie.” They exchanged contact info with a scan of their QR codes. Devon looked at Carla’s profile photo—it was of her in smart-looking business attire, her arms crossed, and a great, co
Neveah sat alone in the kitchen. Momma had gone to her room, leaving everything behind—the bills, her phone, her daughter… Now Momma was taking a nap using the sleeping aid of her choice. Because of course she was. For the past hour, Neveah sat at the kitchen table flipping through her phone, not really looking at anything. Her thoughts played the morning’s events again and again. The doctors called it “rumination”. Over and over, Neveah rehearsed and re-chewed the day like a cow and its cud—the partially digested food that a cow vomits up so it can chew and digest it again. In this way Neveah brought up Devon’s fight with Momma… the incident with the hat… Devon storming out… her mother snapping at her… her prayer for Devon to come home… Neveah flicked through her phone like a Buddhist priest with his prayer beads, flicking and flicking in a kind of dark meditation. Unlike the priest, Neveah’s meditations led not to the peace of emptiness, but the chaotic noise of thoughts that
After a few moments, Devon’s phone buzzed. The front of the message read: MOMMA.He clicked open the phone. There was a message from Momma. The message was clear. He clicked shut the phone. “You gave brought shame and ‘disrespct’…” he mouthed the word, pronouncing it like ‘diss-ree-speck.’ He leaned back in his chair, squeezing his eyes shut. “My god, Neveah…someone ought to teach you how to spell.”Clearly it was Neveah’s work. Momma, the educated woman that she, never used slang or mistyped. Ever. All it took was a simple comparison of Momma’s older messages to see the difference. She may have given up on her own children’s slang, but Momma stood firm against that linguistic tide. Did Neveah not notice how her own mother wrote? Did she not care?Key in this was the “u”—that was a young person’s affectation. Devon even used it sometimes. Neveah used it constantly. But Momma? Never. Putting the two texts together only made it more obvious.MOMMA: Love you always Devon-Devilcake
Last stop—New Hudson Convention Center.The bus crawled over to the bus station and, hissing, the bus’s tired deflated. It sounded to Devon like a dragon’s mighty fart after returning to its cave after a long day of pillaging and burning villages. Hoisting up his bag and, after giving it a brief once-over to make sure everything was zipped and secured tight, Devon debarked from the bus. As he left, the driver looked up from his magazine.“Nice hat,” the driver said with a thumbs up.“Thanks,” Devon smiled. But the driver had already returned to his magazine before he could respond.Devon left the bus. What greeted him was a scene of colorful chaos.The Convention Center looked like an enormous blue doughnut, rising