Simulation

Chapter 1: Under the Radar

My name is Ezri Foxe.

You probably know me as Turtle-Neck-Sweater-Girl, or Sits-Behind-Me-In-Class-Girl, or Girl-I-Once-Almost-Tripped-Over-At-Lunch.

I have dark brown hair that falls around my chin in a pixie cut, pale skin dashed with dark freckles, and light eyes that my mother calls "ocean blue" but are really more of a gray. I'm about 5'4 and a smidge tall, so shorter than most kids in my class, but taller than a few.

Kids at my school don't really notice me. There's nothing particularly special about it, social inadequacy is pretty much the rule for my age range. I fall in with the rest of the pack, quiet, awkward, and trying very hard not to mess up whatever small social life they've constructed.

I've never had much in the way of friends. I'm not unlikable or cruel, I just kinda suck at starting conversations. Luckily for me though, I already have all the companionship I need. My best friend Jamie, most easily recognized by his wayward flop of hair and vivid green eyes, has always been my number one partner in crime.

I met Jamie at a book fair when we were both about six. We bonded over our mutual obsession with "The Adventures of Peggy the Pig" books. About a week later I started first grade, and Jamie was in my class. It was fun to be nobodies together, until about halfway through the sixth grade when his parents got some big money break and put him in private school, leaving me stranded just north of Nowhere.

Either way, I assume you probably want a few facts about what's going on right now.

1. Today is the ninth of February, when all the freshmen have to listen to an hour-long lecture about whatever current project Sparksfield Labs is working on.

2. Nobody ever listens during the lectures, they just pass notes and play video games under their desks.

3. As you might notice, the kids of Sparksfield High are masters of doing just about anything without getting caught, or maybe the teachers are just masters of not caring.

4. Probably the latter.

I walk up the long flight of stairs leading to the Stanley Haise Auditorium, making finger trails on the dusty rail. There are no doors on the auditorium entrance, even though they used to have pretty carved wooden ones. According to Jamie, Daniel Liams, the principal of Sparksfield HS, once dropped his keychain on his way out for the night and got locked in over the weekend.

I'm not sure if I buy the story, considering Mr. Liams would have had to have forgotten his phone and any other method of communication to be locked in the auditorium for that long, but what I know for sure is that any extended period of time in that horrific smelling room would definitely drive someone to door-scapegoating.

When I walk into the auditorium I am startled by a feeling I can't explain. Nothing has changed exactly, I can see the same dusty stage, the same array of empty chairs, not enough for all the students, hence my getting here so early. I skipped lunch so I could claim a seat and not end up pushed out into the isles like I was at the last assembly we had. I decide it's probably hunger giving me the weird vibe.

I hang my backpack on a seat in the third row (Not so close to the stage that I might get picked as a volunteer but not so far that I can't see what's going on), and I wait for people to arrive.

After a 15 minute eternity, I really should have brought some lunch, people finally start to gather. It takes about five seconds for all the seats to be full and for kids to be pushing and shoving each other in the isles.

After another few minutes and a good amount of teacher interference, everyone's settled in, and the creaky old spotlight that's always an infuriatingly small distance off-center lights up the stage.