Jason Luthor - Floor 21

But this? A Scavenging going on more than two weeks?

This is new.

I don’t know why I bothered asking Dad since he just said not to worry. “They’ll be back soon,” he said, like nothing bad could happen. As if. He plays everything so cool, like everything’s okay in the world. I mean, I guess being able to ignore everything happening is a mildly useful skill to have in the apocalypse, but sometimes I really need someone that’s going to soak in my freak-out. Mom’s practically a panicked version of me that’s dialed up ten levels higher, so trying to complain to her is no good.

What is it about life that sometimes you just want somebody to listen? Why do I feel like I need that?

Whatever.

So, about the Scavenging.

No.

To be real… About Mike.

I don’t think I’d really started to notice how much Mom and Dad had changed until I was sixteen. They’d always been these, like, comforting towers of genius. Then I got older, and they seemed so… I don’t know. Something else. Not good. Dad got distant. Mom went nuts.

What bothered me most was I felt like what I remembered about them was gone. They weren’t the people I’d known, and I couldn’t figure out why. Speaking with them became impossible, and I can’t talk to Allison about this stuff. I know we’ve made up and I love her to death. I’d freaking rip someone’s arm out if it meant saving her, but she’s okay with living here. With not knowing what’s going on.

I’m not.

So for a long time, I didn’t have anyone to talk to. Nobody to listen to my questions and just say, “Hey, Jackie, you’re not completely entirely psycho.” I don’t need you to hand me tissues. I just need to know that I’m on someone’s mind.

I don’t know why. I just want to know I exist.

I guess that’s why I latched onto Mike so hard-core. Dude’s older than me, and I get that. But you know that feeling you get when you’re dying of thirst and you finally grab a glass of water? Like you’ve been working out all day, and you’re finally able to get a drink? That’s Mike. He’s a tall glass of cold water. Maybe mixed with some cherry flavoring to make him delicious.

It was last year when he came by the classroom. He didn’t need to be there, I mean, he was eighteen. He’d graduated. I was up to my normal shenanigans, trying to look through the library we keep to see if anything new’d been put on the shelves. Anyway, I don’t notice this joker coming up to me until he says, “Hey.”

I nearly flip out of my clothes, which would probably have been the most absolutely inappropriate thing to do at that moment. After I manage to find where my breath went, I took exactly one step back, locked up like I was standing in military salute, and said, “Hey.”

“What’ve you got going on here?”

“Oh, the reg, you know. Looking for some cool action stories or something. Hopefully a book with lots of killing and bloody violence, for my inner killer and all,” I say as I lean against the shelf. Of course, I forget that there’s nothing holding the books from sliding off the other side, and I cringe as I hear a pile of them unceremoniously colliding onto the floor. Mike just laughs as he heads around.

“Here,” he says, “let me get those.”

“Not by yourself. I’m not some damsel in distress.”

“Yeah, I know,” he says as I trail him into the next aisle. He leans down to grab some. “I’m just being a friend.”

“Is that right?” I ask as I join him, snatching a few off the ground and stacking them back on the shelves.

“Well, I figure, right? Been what? Four years we’ve known each other?”

“Yeah, but we haven’t really been friends. I didn’t think. I mean, you know.” I cluck my tongue. “Age and everything.”

“It’s just four years, Jack. Going on five soon.”

“But you’re also cool guy Mike! I’m… loner girl Jackie.”

“Psh. Who cares?”

“Peo… ple?”

“And why do I care about those people?”

See, that’s why he’s cool guy Mike. “Yeah, no, you’re right. I mean, I don’t care, either. I mean, look at me. Psh. I don’t even bother combing my hair.” Stupid. “Apparently.”

He finishes picking up the last of the books and stuffs them onto the shelf before settling onto the ground. It’s weird to just sit there with him. And he doesn’t say anything, so I’m like… am I supposed to do something in this situation?

“So, uh. Mike?”

“Hm?”

“What brings you down to the library?”

“I was looking for you. Figured you’d be here.”

Okay, well, at least he’s direct. “Want to know more about the Creep? I haven’t been anywhere, like, exciting or anything. Not recently, although I was thinking about heading all the way down to Floor 21 to see if I could find those Creep abusers. You know, the guys that like to trip off of the hallucinations?”

“Nah, Jackie, I just wanted to see how you were doing. I mean, we’re always talking about the Tower. When’s the last time we just talked? About how you’re doing?”

“Just, you know, for the record? That’s not really my fault. You’re the one who only comes around to ask me if I’ve managed to piss off more Security. That’s on you, buddy.”

“Hey, it’s not like I have this all figured out,” he says, shrugging it off like he does so much about life. “Yeah, we had a kind of weird kickoff to the friendship, seeing as I had to keep you from catching heat from Security. But we get along well enough, right? We both want to know what’s out there. Both want to know what’s up on Floor 1 or why we’re trapped in here.”

“Right. Not exactly like there’s a lot of inquisitive minds we live with.”

“Exactly. I just figured it was time to, you know, be a bit real. I mean, no sense pretending like I don’t like your company. I mean, yeah, sure, I like talking to you about what’s going on around here. Just figured it was worth trying to see if you’d like to talk about other things once in a while. Stuff.”

“No. I mean, yeah, sure. I love stuff. We can talk about stuff all day. You just caught me off guard.”

“Sorry, I do that to people.”

“Well, that’s better than me since I just tend to weird them out. At least I’m really good for having around if you want people to leave you alone. I’m like an anti-people field.”

He smiles as he passes his hand through his hair. Mike Chapman has the privilege of being able to do so. With me any such stunt would get your hand tangled in the multiple locks that spring out from my head. Don’t get me wrong; I wouldn’t trade my hair for the world. Mike’s hair, though, is like a bunch of brown silk all pulled back in a waterfall. It’s the closest thing to running your hand through a river.

His eyes roll up to the roof of the library. “Well, this is going great. I make you toss an aisle of books over, and then we sit here awkwardly.”

“You’re, like, describing my every friendship. I am routinely the cause of quiet discomfort. So, it’s really not a problem.”

Mike laughs, and I get an irritatingly warm sense of happiness about that. “Well, I’m thinking maybe we can do this more often. I mean, no pressure. Just if you want. Maybe we can get together for one of those movie nights they throw once in a while.”

“Oh. Right, that sounds great. I’ll try to scrounge up some chocolate bars.”

“Hah, I forget you’re a Quad. Down on Floor 8, we don’t get as many of those. But, hey, I can maybe trade for a soda or something. I’ve got a few green dollars that one kid I know collects. He’d probably trade for them.”

“This will literally be the most sugar I’ve ever had in a night.”