The Perfect World (The Perfect World Series Book 1) (16 page)

Just as he finished this thought, a harsh whistle rang out across the field. The whistle was blown several times, getting everyone’s attention. The class passed the ball back to Mr. Warden, who beckoned them all to come closer. They did, feeling anxious, and immediately fell back into their lines. It was clear that Mr. Warden wasn’t pleased with them.

“Well, it is easy to declare the winner of today’s game,” their teacher began in a heavy voice. Scott, Cyrus and the others shared a few happy looks between them before the teacher gestured at both of their teams. “Today’s match was a tie. Everybody wins.”

Scott’s mouth fell open as did Melody’s and Cyrus’s. The other team looked confused at the words, clearly not sure if they should celebrate or not. Scott’s disbelief was replaced by anger, the same anger he’d displayed during social studies class earlier that day. Cyrus tried to tap him on the shoulder to get his attention and keep him from getting into trouble. Scott ignored his tapping as he balled his fists, and his voice carried an edge as he demanded an explanation.

“But how could they win? We scored seven points, and they only scored four!” he shouted, and Cyrus noted that several of his teammates voiced their agreement on the matter. Encouraged, Cyrus added his voice to the cacophony, only to be hushed by Mr. Warden.

“That is
exactly
why they won, Mr. Strago,” their teacher informed them sternly. “Scoring more points than the other team is not allowed in sports games. The point of the game is to build positive emotions and foster confidence in people. That is why every game ends in a tie as it is what is fair for everyone.”

“How is that ‘fair?’” Scott shot back, getting a little red in the face. “We scored those points, and we should win!”

“You broke the rules to do so. No one is allowed to move from their position except for the team that has the ball.”

“They broke the rules too!” Scott shouted back, stomping his foot.

His friend would have gone on, but Cyrus made sure to loudly voice his agreement, trying to take some of the attention off of Scott. Melody joined him in voicing her support, then Will joined in after her. Cyrus noticed that the quiet husky boy who had been their goalie nodded along with the others. Even some of the students who were on the other team were nodding along with Scott’s words.

“Silence!” their teacher roared, and all of them went quiet. “This kind of behavior is unacceptable. You, Mr. Strago, and every person on your team have broken the rules that every person must follow. To refuse to follow the rules is a sign of sickness.”

Every student in their line went silent at the dreaded word. They all straightened up and stood still, knowing that they were now in trouble.

“I will report this incident to your caretaker. I believe that perhaps all of you are coming down with an illness, and the proper measures must be taken.”

“But—” Cyrus tried to say, but was immediately cut off.

“Do you have something to add, Mr. Wright?”

“No sir …” he muttered, beginning to feel the same anger that Scott did.

“I didn’t think so. Now, get into line. You need to go back to your rooms.”

The trek back to their rooms was an uncomfortable one. It was clear that Scott was fuming with the anger apparent on his face, but to be fair, no one looked all that happy. Cyrus certainly wasn’t, and he could tell that both Melody and Will seemed just as unhappy as he was.

It didn’t take long for Ms. Mary to come to Cyrus’s room and inform him that his entire soccer team had been declared sick. They would be staying in their rooms away from the other students on their floor for two days. Ms. Mary also said that one of his teammates in particular was sicker than the others and would be made to stay away from the other students for much longer. Cyrus didn’t have to ask which student she was referring to.

He was then treated to a lecture about rules, positive emotions and sickness. Cyrus did his best to tune the whole thing out, nodding his head whenever there was a pause in the conversation. Soon enough, the tall, black-haired caretaker was gone, and Cyrus breathed a sigh of relief.

The gangly young man waited impatiently for the evening to come and for his lock to click open. He wanted to talk to Scott, and he cursed the locked doors that kept them from communicating whenever they wanted to. Finally, after what seemed like forever, the lock clicked open and Cyrus rushed to the bathroom.

When he rounded the corner, he felt immense relief to see Scott leaning against the wall with his hands balled in fists. The relief immediately faded when he got closer and noticed the red cuts and dark bruises on his fists.

“Where did these come from?” Cyrus demanded as he tried to grab Scott’s wrist to take a closer look. The shorter boy swatted his hands away and glared at him. “Scott?” Cyrus drew back a step, his voice quiet.

Scott turned to the bathroom wall, not speaking. Instead, he threw his fist as hard as he could into the hard walls of the bathroom. A small red stain was left on the wall as Scott drew his hand back. Then, with anger burning in his eyes, he threw his other fist into the wall. He repeated this process a few more times before Cyrus decided to intervene.

“Stop it!” Cyrus said with some alarm as he grabbed Scott’s wrists and tried to hold him still. “Scott, that’s enough!”

“Why? It makes me feel better,” Scott spat back, struggling to get free again. Cyrus held on until Scott’s thrashing made him collide with one of the sinks and fall to the ground. Cyrus let out a hiss of pain, rubbing at his hip. When he looked back up, he saw Scott looking down at him with an expression of contrition on his face.

“Oh, Cyrus, I’m sorry! I’m really sorry! You’re okay, right?” Scott blurted out as he helped Cyrus back onto his feet. It was an awkward process as Scott was much shorter and skinnier than Cyrus was.

“I’m fine,” Cyrus said, letting a bit of irritation into his voice as he rubbed his hip for emphasis. “Are you done punishing the wall?” he asked wryly.

“I don’t know. I think it could use a few more—” Scott’s grin made it clear he was joking, but seeing the dark expression on Cyrus’s face made him immediately drop it. “Yes, I’m done.”

“Good. Let’s clean this up.” Cyrus pointed to the red blood stains on the wall. “I don’t want Ms. Mary to start asking questions.”

Cyrus used a combination of water and toilet paper to clean the mess off the wall. He then made sure to shove Scott’s hands under the sink water to clean them off as well.

“I really am sorry, you know,” Scott admitted quietly as Cyrus  helped clean the remaining blood from his hands.             

“I know.”

“It’s just, it made me so angry! Today was the first day where that stupid PE class was ever fun. Everybody joined in with what we were doing. And aren’t we taught that if everyone does something, it’s okay?”

“Yes, that’s what they say,” Cyrus said as he balled up a wad of wet toilet paper to use on Scott’s knuckles, “but I don’t think it’s the same as what they want us to do. How they want us to behave,” Cyrus added, thinking aloud.

Scott sank into mutinous silence as Cyrus finished cleaning up his hands. “I felt like everyone agreed with me.”

“They did. I saw that Melody did, Will did and I did.”

“Of course, you did.” The smaller boy met his eyes with a grateful expression on his face. Cyrus was relieved to see that most of the anger was gone from him.

“How long are you sick for?” he asked, now that the other boy had calmed down.

“For five days,” Scott told him with an eye roll. “You?”

“Two days. Ms. Mary said one student was sicker than the others,” Cyrus added when the shorter boy gave him a curious look.

“Lucky me,” Scott muttered darkly.

“It could be worse,” Cyrus noted.

“How?”

“You could still have to go to school and sleep on your uncomfortable desk. Now at least you can sleep on your bed.”

That got a small snort from Scott. “You always find a good side to everything, don’t you?”

“One of my many talents.” Cyrus gave him a small bow.

Scott shook his head at the move, but he was smiling as he walked past Cyrus. “I should probably go back to my room now.”

“Um, don’t leave yet,” Cyrus requested as he thought of something else that had been on his mind for a while. Something with bright red hair and blue eyes.

“What is it?” Scott snapped his fingers as he thought of something. “I was supposed to give you the dictionary today, wasn’t I? I’ll give it to you tomorrow.”

“Thank you, but it’s not that. Not exactly.”

“Then what?” Scott replied impatiently, tapping his foot on the floor. “Whatever’s on your mind, Cyrus, just say it.”

“Okay, well, it’s just,” Cyrus stopped, took a deep breath, then spoke quickly. “Remember how I said that there were other people who agreed with you today about the soccer game?” Scott nodded. “Well, I’ve noticed that one of the people on our team today gets sick a lot like we do. She asks questions like us, and she seems unhappy with how things are. I think maybe we should try telling Melody about the stuff we learn from the dictionary,” he said hesitantly, thinking of the way she smiled at him when he had kicked her the ball.

“Melody?” Scott’s eyes scrunched up at the request as if he couldn’t believe what he just heard. “Why would we do that?”

“Well, it’s just, I mean,” Cyrus paused to get what he wanted to say straight. He felt a little odd talking about Melody with somebody else, though he wasn’t quite sure why. “You’ve seen how she acts too, haven’t you? She’s like us, I know it. We should try to let her know what we know.”

“Hmm, well, maybe,” Scott said slowly, his face saying that he didn’t entirely agree with the idea.              

“You don’t want to, do you?” Cyrus guessed the reason behind his friend’s noncommittal response.

“To be honest, no,” Scott said flatly. “Look, Cyrus, I know that I can trust you. We’ve talked, and I know you feel like I do. We don’t know that this Melody girl feels anything of the sort. Maybe she’s like us and maybe she isn’t. We don’t know.”

Cyrus was going to chime in, but Scott stopped him. “And, this dictionary we have is very special. If anyone finds out we have it, we could get in big trouble! Even worse, it could be taken away! What if this Melody girl decides to tell Ms. Mary about it? What would we do then?”

“She wouldn’t do that,” Cyrus responded firmly. He couldn’t justify his feelings about Melody with anything solid. He knew that, yet some part of him couldn’t let this go. “I know she wouldn’t. I mean, look at how quick she was to agree with you against Mr. Warden. Do you think she’d do that if she weren’t like us?”

“No,” Scott admitted, sounding very much like he hated admitting that his friend had a point, “but that still doesn’t explain how we’re going to get to tell her anything. Her room is on the other side of the hallway from us. There’s no way we can actually meet.”

“I think I can answer that,” Cyrus said with a smirk. “One time when she was declared ‘sick’ I slipped a note under her door when I was let out to go to the bathroom. She obviously got it because she wrote me a note back that day. We can do the same thing with the words. I can write them down on some pieces of paper and give them to her.”

“Yeah, and what if someone finds those slips of paper? Then, they’ll find out about the dictionary!”

“I’ll be careful, Scott,” Cyrus reassured him, not telling him that Ms. Linda had found the notes they had written to each other all those years ago. “I’m sure she will be too.”

“I still don’t like it …” Scott mumbled unhappily, with his arms over his chest.

“Scott, please,” Cyrus responded, starting to feel exasperated, “I know you don’t like it, but think about this. Think about how angry you felt during class earlier today when we couldn’t get any information. Then, think about how much worse it would be if we didn’t have this dictionary. How do you think you would feel?”

Scott’s face became a little more sympathetic as he thought it over. He looked to the side of the bathroom with his arms crossed over his chest.

“That’s probably how Melody feels all the time,” Cyrus continued before giving his friend one last plea. “Please Scott …”

Scott looked at him one more time before sighing in exasperation. “Oh, all right. You can tell Melody about this, but if anything and I mean, ANYTHING goes the slightest bit wrong, you are going to stop giving her notes. Okay?”

“Okay,” Cyrus told him with gratitude filling his heart. Thank you so much, Scott. I mean it.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Scott said with a wave of his hand. His tone held a little bit of mirth. “All right, now I really have to go. See you.”

Scott exited the bathroom and headed back to his room. Cyrus smiled at his small victory, feeling a bit lighter as he headed back to his room. He was glad that he could help Melody, another person who didn’t agree with the way things were. He didn’t know for sure, but he thought that maybe, just maybe, they would make another friend in her.

The next day, Cyrus scribbled a short note about his intention to start sharing information with her and slid it under Melody’s door. He waited impatiently during the afternoon for a response, and it wasn’t until the evening that he received a reply.

When he heard a soft whoosh come from underneath his door, he scrambled up from his bed to find a small, folded white piece of paper. It was from Melody and it read:

Cyrus,

Thank you for wanting to share information for me. Don’t worry. I won’t let anyone know about the dictionary, and I promise I’ll be careful.

Melody

Cyrus experienced a wave of happiness at the message that stayed with him all evening until he fell asleep. The next morning, during their first class, he slipped the note to Scott. He took it and read it. Scott nodded in understanding and neither looked happy or relieved. Cyrus supposed that was good enough for now.

After Scott had given him the note back, he looked over at the red-haired girl to notice that she was staring at him. She tilted her head in a way that made her long, wavy hair fall over her shoulders. She smiled at him appreciatively from across the room and gave him a small wave. He waved a little back and quickly dropped his hand back to his desk before Ms. Neva could notice the action.

From then on, every time Cyrus used the dictionary to verify the true meaning of words, he made a second list for Melody. Any time he gave her a list, he was rewarded with another short note. He kept all of these notes and shared them with Scott, thinking that they would bring Scott the same kind of joy they brought him. Instead, Scott made it clear he thought that Cyrus was weird.

Occasionally, Melody would request a word definition that they had heard in class. Cyrus would pass these messages along to Scott, who crinkled his nose at the first couple until he finally dubbed the little scraps of paper as Melody Demands. Despite the name, if Scott had the dictionary at the time, he would write down the word for her. Cyrus never had to press him to do it and for that he was grateful.

Another six months passed and soon it was almost time for the class’s twelfth birthday. Cyrus, Scott and Melody passed the long days by redefining the words they were given. Cyrus tried to keep an eye on Scott and made an effort to put him in a good mood. Other than one small outburst, Scott hadn’t been declared sick lately, a fact that Cyrus was grateful for.

The days had been the same regarding school and their computer classes until one hot summer day in early July. Cyrus had finished a typical boring day at school and was sweating in his room as he waited for his computer classes to start. He wiped the sweat off of his forehead with a grimace. He wasn’t particularly fond of hot weather, though it did get a bit cooler towards the evenings.

Cyrus was happy to hear the familiar sound of his computer snapping on and went to sit on his small stool. He was about to pull out his notebook when the computer’s screen went black. Cyrus sat up with his heartbeat quickening, remembering what happened the last time that his computer acted like this. For a split second, the screen seemed to flicker to a different page filled with small windows with black writing. Then, the computer screen went black and nothing Cyrus did, be it pound every key on his keyboard or smack the back of his computer monitor, made the writing return. The computer was making soft whirring noises that told him that the machine was still on. The gangly young man sat on his stool, pondering what he should do, when his door burst open.

Cyrus caught the desk in front of him to keep from falling. Just as he steadied himself, he felt rough hands grab him by the shoulders and pull them away from his desk.

“Hey! What are you—” he started to say indignantly, then immediately stopped. The hands that held him belonged to a black armored guard. He heard a snapping sound and whipped his head forward to see his monitor being unplugged and removed. 

“Your computer has malfunctioned as have the others in this building. We are retrieving the defective units and will replace them as soon as we are able.”

Cyrus opened his mouth to ask a question, then, remembering who he was addressing, promptly shut it. The two black armored guards said nothing more as they took his computer and exited his room. After the door clicked shut, Cyrus moved to his door and listened. He heard several different sets of heavy footsteps going around his floor. A cold chill went down Cyrus’s spine as he stared at the place where his computer used to be.

Would it have been like last time? he wondered as he brushed the dust off his desk with his fingers. Would I have gotten to see something from Uncivilized Times?

His green eyes caught a flash of warm, yellow light, and he turned to see the Quarantine Dome in the distance. Ribbons of gold-white light moved across its surface, striking a spark of familiarity in Cyrus. He frowned as he continued to stare at the Dome in the distance.

Wait, he thought with a snap of his finger, wasn’t it this same color on that day when we saw those videos of Uncivilized Times? Cyrus stared at the dome with renewed interest. Were those videos from this Dome? Were they trying again?

Cyrus pondered this for a moment more before he threw down his hands in frustration. It wasn’t as if he could get an answer to that. There was no one he could ask. Not anymore …

That’s right. It was that same color the day that Ms. Linda was declared sick and quarantined.

The young man sat down on his bed and put his head in his hands. He did think about his caretaker on occasion, and while the memories of her didn’t hurt him as much as they once did, it still made him feel melancholic. Cyrus tried to shake off the mood by remembering that she had gifted him and Scott with a dictionary so that they could get answers for themselves. How it had helped them prove that they were right not to trust all the things they were told.

Being able to get some answers is better than getting none at all.

The thought comforted him only for the briefest of moments before his eyes snapped open, and he stared at where his computer once was. That’s when it dawned on him. Without that computer, they wouldn’t get any new vocabulary words. Without any new words, having a dictionary wouldn’t do either him, Scott or Melody much good.

“Oh great …” he muttered to himself, running a hand through his thick brown hair. He could only imagine how boring school was going to be from now on without being able to look up words on their own.

And if it’s going to be boring for me, I can’t imagine what it will be like for Scott.

Cyrus had kept an eye on his friend ever since that incident with the soccer game. Scott seemed calmer on the surface, but when they spoke, he noticed that the fire often returned to Scott’s eyes.  Though he had kept his mouth shut during their classes, Cyrus also noticed the agitation in Scott’s posture as he sat stiffly in his chair. There was a storm beneath the surface, one that was only being held back by the small pieces of information they were able to gather on their own. Without that …

I have to try to keep him calm, Cyrus decided, though inside he wondered how he could manage that. His eyes wandered back to the Quarantine Dome. If I don’t, then he might end up there. Just like Ms. Linda, and I’ll never hear from him again.  

His heart squeezed at the thought of being stuck in this place without Scott. Cyrus could only hope they would have new computers soon and things would return to normal.

The next day, when they were seated in their chairs at school, Cyrus waited until Ms. Neva was engrossed in one of her lectures before nudging Scott to get his attention.

“Is your computer gone?” he whispered.

“Yes. Yours too?” Scott whispered back.

Cyrus nodded. “Without it, we can’t use the dictionary.”

“I know.” Scott’s reply held a note of frustration.

“I’m sure we’ll get new ones soon.”

Scott seemed unconvinced. “I hope so.”             

From that morning onward, Cyrus expected, or rather hoped, to see a new machine arriving in his room soon. Unfortunately, life seemed to have other ideas. He waited and waited, but the new computer had yet to arrive. He couldn’t ask Ms. Mary about the matter because she wouldn’t answer him anyway, and it wasn’t as though his teachers were any better.

After a week and a half of waiting, Cyrus paced in his room as he wondered what he should do. It wasn’t as if their classes gave them much in the way of new words to look up. Without that, the monotony of school was that much more unbearable. Cyrus could barely handle it, but Scott seemed increasingly agitated with each passing day.

If we don’t get the computers back soon, I don’t know if Scott can keep his temper under control much longer.

A whooshing sound from underneath his door got his attention. He spotted a small white piece of paper and quickly snatched it up. He knew it was from Melody, and he immediately felt guilty. He hadn’t written her any notes since their computers had been taken away. The note was short and sweet.

Cyrus,

Any new words? Please tell me.

Melody

Cyrus pulled out his pen and notebook, scribbling a short reply.

Melody,

I’m sorry I haven’t written. Without the computer lessons, we don’t have any new words.

Cyrus

Cyrus waited until his lock clicked open and slid the note under Melody’s door as he walked to the bathroom. That evening as he was munching on a dinner of crunchy rice with globs of some unidentifiable meat, he heard another whoosh. Placing his dinner aside, he picked up his latest folded message.

Cyrus,

I thought that might be why. Please keep writing to me. I like reading your notes, even if they’re short.

Melody

A smile lit his face at the message, causing him to forget all his troubles. He read the note again and again before he went to sleep, surprised by how happy it made him.

Maybe Scott’s right. Maybe I am weird, Cyrus thought as he pulled his blanket around his shoulders. But if being weird makes me happy, then I’ll manage.

His happiness lasted well into the next morning until it was time for English class. The class was taught by Ms. Kara, a small woman with short black hair that was always perfect. She had a warm voice that was pleasant to listen to. It was unfortunate that she taught Cyrus’s least favorite subject.

English class was one of the slowest classes at school, which was saying a lot. Most of the classes were focused on grammar, a subject that was never very interesting to begin with and only made more infuriating as they would have to do the same worksheets for weeks on end.

The only interruption from grammar work happened when they were required to read a short story. Cyrus wasn’t sure if these short stories were any better, given that they were the exact same story each time. The names were different, the places were different, but the formula was always the same. The characters acted in ways that were “sick,” then they learned about fairness, specialness or destiny, and they all lived happily ever after. Cyrus rolled his eyes every time one of these stories landed on his desk.

When everyone received a copy of the story, Ms. Kara prompted the class to read it together. What followed was a classroom of children reading the story in several varieties of monotone. The sound was the one redeeming factor of story time, as it never failed to amuse Cyrus. Normally, it amused Scott a bit as well, but today he seemed more content to lay his head down on his desk and sulk.

As Cyrus expected, the story was the same one they’d been reading for years, just with different characters and place names.  Ms. Kara began the same discussion they always had after a story as  Cyrus looked at his paper in disgust.

“What did you think of this story, class?” Ms. Kara asked in her calm voice. “Did you like it?”

The class was supposed to answer, “Yes, we did,” as they had been instructed to do many times. While most of the class answered with exactly that, there was one voice that refused to go along with the others.

“No,” Scott stated loudly, his head still planted on his desk.

Ms. Kara ignored the remark, concentrating on the other students. “That’s right. It was a wonderful story.” The statement caused Scott to raise his head from his desk.

“It was a boring, stupid story,” Scott shouted in a loud voice, shutting his eyes in frustration.

“Scott, stop it,” Cyrus whispered, not wanting his friend to get in trouble again. Scott didn’t seem to hear him.

“I’m glad you all liked it,” Ms. Kara said, still ignoring Scott’s outbursts.

“I liked it so much I wish I could flush it down a toilet,” Scott said as he crumpled the paper into a ball. Cyrus slapped a hand to his forehead at the comment. The entire room went silent as Ms. Kara finally turned her attention to Scott.

“Everyone has agreed that the story is wonderful. It’s the truth,” Ms. Kara said in a calm voice. Cyrus noticed that unlike the other teachers, who would become antagonistic if anything they said were questioned, she made an effort to placate the child who caused the interruption. Her effort was lost on Scott who simply seemed too angry to notice.