Orion's Rise: From Zero to Hero in Two Worlds

The Bike Rack

I used to count the squeaks my sneakers made on the linoleum floor. Used to think if I could predict the pattern—*squeak-squish-squeak*—maybe I could control other things too. Stupid, right? But that's what happens when your brain's always trying to find ways to make sense of things that don't.

"Still breathin' or what?"

My fingers froze on the locker dial, muscle memory scattered like startled birds. Jared. Always Jared. The mint from his gum reached me before his shadow did, that artificial wintergreen that made my stomach curl.

*Just keep sorting books just keep quiet just—*

"Yo, freak-show. Asked you something."

A laugh rippled behind him—Chris probably, or Ryan. They all blurred together these days, background static in the endless noise of my life. My hands were so slick with sweat that the dial slipped again. The numbers swam together, black marks that could've been anything.

"Bruh, look at him. Man's actually shaking—"

"Nah for real though, you see his hands?"

The whispers followed me like smoke, curling around my ankles, seeping into my clothes. Everything felt too bright under the buzzing fluorescent lights, too sharp, like someone had turned up the contrast on the world.

I turned around. Had to. My back found the locker, cold metal pressing through my shirt.

"What." My voice came out weird. Like it belonged to someone else.

"What," Jared mimicked, pitching his voice high. His crooked grin—the one that made teachers trust him, made Emily choose him—spread across his face. "That's all you got? After everything with Em—"

"Don't."

The word tasted like pennies in my mouth. My fingernails were carving crescents into my palms.

"Don't what?" He stepped closer. "Don't mention how she straight up murdered you in front of everyone? Don't talk about how you actually thought—"

The edges of my vision darkened, tunneling down to his face. To that stupid grin that hadn't changed since sixth grade.

"I don't care anymore." I forced the words out. "About her. Any of it."

"Nah..." His eyes narrowed, searching my face like he was trying to read something written there. "Nah, see, that's cap. You care. You care so much it's actually sad, bro."

The truth of it hit harder than any punch.

***

Lunch was its own special kind of hell.

I spread my books across the cafeteria table, taking up just enough space so no one would try to sit down. It was easier this way. No awkward glances. No one suddenly remembering they had to be somewhere else. The mashed potatoes on my tray looked like something had died in them, but my stomach was too twisted to handle food anyway.

*Don't look left don't look left don't—*

I looked left.

Emily sat at her usual table, picking at her salad like it had personally offended her. The purple streak in her hair—the one she'd gotten the weekend before everything went sideways—caught the fluorescent light. My pencil snapped in my hand. I'd been grinding my teeth so hard my jaw ached. My teeth found that spot inside my cheek again, the one that hadn't healed in weeks.

"Yo, it's my boy Sergio!"

*God no please just one lunch just one quiet—*

Ryan dropped into the seat across from me, grinning like we were best friends or something. His chair scraped against the tile, the sound setting my teeth on edge.

"You looking rough, my guy. Like, extra rough today."

I stabbed at the mashed potatoes. They made a wet sound that turned my stomach.

"Silent treatment? That's cold, bro. And here I am, checking up on you like a good—"

"What do you want?"

"Want? Can't a guy just—"

"Ryan."

He leaned back, that fake smile slipping like a mask. "Just wondering how it feels, you know? Getting played like that. In front of everyone."

My fork scraped against the tray. The sound made my teeth hurt.

"Must've been wild, thinking someone like her would actually—"

The chair screeched when I stood up. Someone at the next table jumped. Groups split apart as I walked past them, like I had some disease they might catch. Their whispers followed me out the door, a trail of smoke I couldn't shake.

I found myself outside, feet carrying me to the old oak tree. Far enough from the school that the shouting and laughter faded to a murmur. The bark pressed against my back, rough patterns speaking some language I couldn't quite understand. The ground was cold through my jeans.

*The bark feels different every time like it's got its own language or something trying to tell me things I don't want to hear anymore god my hands won't stop shaking when did they start shaking do other people's hands just shake all the time now or is it just me just me just always me*

Everything smelled like dirt and grass and that weird metallic thing that happens right before it rains. The library chair across from me would be empty now. No more sharing notes. No more her falling asleep on her textbook, drooling on the Spanish homework. Just me and the quiet and a stack of unfinished assignments.

I wondered if she ever thought about it. About that day. About how she looked right at me and just...

Probably not.

Probably didn't think about anything anymore.

Must be nice.

***

The rest of the day melted like a bad dream. The clock above Mr. Peterson's desk ticked backwards, or maybe sideways, each minute stretching like warm taffy. Dust motes hung suspended in the afternoon light, as motionless as my pencil above the blank worksheet. His voice turned into background noise, like a TV playing in another room.

Even the building had turned against me. Locker doors slammed like gunshots. Water fountains sputtered and choked when I approached. The ancient radiators hissed secrets in a language of steam and rust.

When the final bell rang, my legs turned to water. The taste of metal filled my mouth again. Each step toward the exit felt like walking through deep water, like something was trying to pull me back.

*Please just let me get to the bike rack please just let me—*

"Going somewhere?"

*No no no not now please*

Jared stood by the bikes. Because of course he did. Because that's how this worked. His shadow stretched across the pavement like a stain.

"Hey, I'm talking to you." His hand found my shoulder. When did he get so close? "You deaf now too?"

"I didn't—" My voice cracked. Awesome.

"Didn't what?" He spun me around. The brick wall scraped my back through my shirt, catching threads, marking territory. "Didn't think I'd notice? Notice how you keep looking at her?"

"I don't—"

"You know what your problem is?" His face was right there, wintergreen gum making my eyes water. "You think you're better than us. Think you're so smart, so deep. But you're nothing. You're less than nothing. You're—"

The first hit didn't even hurt.

Weird.

Colors inverted, then blurred. The blue sky melted into the red brick wall. Someone's watch caught the sun, sending a laser of light across my closing eyes. The last thing I registered was the rough texture of concrete against my palms, and the strange thought that I'd never noticed the pattern in the sidewalk before.

*Oh.*

*So that's what nothing feels like.*

The sky really was blue today. Perfect blue. The kind that makes you think maybe everything could be okay.

Someone was saying something, but it sounded far away. Like they were underwater. Or maybe I was.

Funny how the concrete had little sparkles in it. Never noticed that before either.

Everything got quiet then. Like someone had pressed mute on the world.

Just me and the sparkles and that perfect blue sky.

Must be nice.

To be nothing.

Finally.