Legend of Kataria (Draft Version)

Chapter 2

The bell rang at precisely three o'clock that afternoon.

The loud din signaled the end of the school year. For most, it was a joyful sound, the sound that released them from the clutches of stuffy rooms, mathematics, and the utter madness of exams. This was the moment that so many dreamed of through every hour of lecturing and every mile-long essay.

This was summer vacation.

This was freedom.

And Green Bush absolutely despised it.

Already he could hear the first of the classrooms opening their doors, the anxious tramping of feet in the corridors, and the slamming of lockers one last time. Soon, the upperclassmen would follow suit and the already loud halls would be overrun with bellowing, rowdy, ill-mannered students, all pushing and shoving to be the first out the door, as though their lives depended on it--as though summer would simply pass them by.

Greeny, however, had no reason to hurry. No summer plans with his family, no poolside adventures with his siblings, none of the things the others so often took for granted. He could take his time refilling his backpack and wait for the halls to empty. It wouldn't be long now. Besides, he wasn't looking forward to the walk across campus in the vicious downpour that was currently rattling against the windows.

He shuddered and turned away from watching the kids darting past the soccer field, jackets and book bags over their heads like umbrellas, and then to his particularly messy desk. Pencils and markers lay scattered across several scratch papers and post-its, books were stacked haphazardly, one on top of another, threatening to topple over onto the ugly blue and white checkered floor, and his book bag was tossed carelessly to the side, laying open, revealing the empty folders inside. On top of the books was a newspaper. Unfolded, but crumpled, with the headlines lying face up and the words King To Make Appearance in Capital! displayed in gigantic letters. This he glanced at for a moment, noting the large stage and happy pedestrians meandering through the streets. Then, he pulled his gaze away and went back to work with his wires and batteries, and the half-smashed laptop currently ruling his workspace. He could always read it later and, besides, he wasn't that interested in the local news.

Laughter erupted from outside the classroom. Greeny glanced up with a frown, watching as several tenth graders stampeded by, hooting and hollering at the top of their lungs. He continued to stare for another minute until he was sure they were gone before he looked away. This was always the hardest time of the year for him. The time when he was forced to leave his comfort zone and plunge deep into the realm of socialization and summer fun. No one understood what it meant to be him, with no family, and very few friends to spend time with. Kids just saw him as the weird unapproachable recluse. They didn't understand why he would prefer to be sitting behind a desk, fiddling with a device that was long past its expiration date, as he was now, or why he didn't enjoy the summer, or that fresh breath of freedom, or people in general.

But, of course, summer had never been kind to him. He had been born on the first of May. Mayday, everyone called it. Rumors had spread, absolute lies that when he cried for the first time, planes all around the world had come crashing down and all electronics had glitched. He'd ignored these jibs of course, for that was all they were, but he could never get the date out of his mind. For it was not only the day of his birth, almost seventeen long years ago, it was also the date, sixteen years to the hour, that his parents had been killed in a terrible plane crash. He had been with them in the accident and somehow he'd survived. They hadn't been so fortunate. It had been a miracle, the physicians claimed, that a baby wholly incapable of self-preservation had come out of such an extreme mess with nothing more than damaged eyesight and a few bumps and bruises. Almost magical, in fact.