In a futuristic society where people are differentiated and valued based on the purity of their genes, can a person define for themselves who they really are? Or does The Gene Test provide the answer for them?
Depression... Addiction... Criminality...
I stare at him from across the cafeteria. He's not looking at me today like he usually does.
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Does he remember what happened last night? I do, vividly. My cheek tingles at the thought. I can still feel where he pressed his lips against my skin.
The things he said last night... are those his real feelings? Does he really not hate me? He said that he missed me...
What happened to him while I was gone? I notice him wincing when his friends laugh too loud, and keeping his head down most of the time. He's probably super hungover. The stench of alcohol on him last night was so strong, it was like he doused his clothes with lighter fluid.
I feel myself getting worried. He's a coded alcoholic, so he should be staying away from alcohol at all costs, but he goes out to get bashed drunk on a Wednesday night and stumbles intoxicated along the streets alone. If he had been caught, he would've gotten into serious trouble. Besides the underage drinking laws, there are even stricter laws against coded alcoholics consuming more than the legal limit.
What concerns me even more, is that I don't think it was a one-time thing. If this is a habit of his, he'd better nip it in the bud before it comes and bites him in the ass.
I want to talk to him. I need to talk to him. I don't know if he'll react well to it though, he'd probably just refuse, so I'll need to trap him somewhere and force him to talk. Talking is the only way we're gonna solve this... thing between us. I want my friend back. I want Alex back.
***
Sterling didn't come for lessons during the first half, so I'm surprised to see him sitting in science class after lunch.
I gingerly take my seat next to him. We haven't spoken since what happened yesterday, and I don't know what to say either. I still haven't managed to decipher that weird thing he said last night.
"Because I have to."
Why does this guy have to be so damn obscure? He's even more obscure than me, and that's saying something.
Eventually I decide to just bite the bullet and speak up first.
"Why weren't you here this morning?" I ask him gently.
"Came in late last night," he answers monotonously without looking at me.
I take his cue to end the conversation there, "Ahh, I see." We go into an awkward silence for a while.
"Can I cash in my favor?" he asks out of the blue, which makes me turn to him in surprise, but he's still not looking at me. "The favor from back at camp."
"Yeah, sure," I reply, taken aback.
"Tomorrow, I wanna bring you somewhere. It's called the Night Bazaar."
