Cafeteria

You did the push-ups, and two more laps. You've showered, and cooled off. You've forgotten all about it. You're laughing with Lester in the cafeteria about what happened, when the butt of the joke himself walks by with a tray of rabbit food: carrots, berries, and almond milk. You wouldn't be surprised if his dorm was a hamster cage. Even for a vegan, he somehow finds a way to look even daintier. 'At least eat some protein like everyone else!', you think to yourself. He must have skipped his B12, or something, cause he's looking dumb today.

Lester
Hey Romeo, nice job with your crush. You really crushed it.

Ray
I just thought she would like the card.

Keem
You mean you thought she was a freak like you? Nah buddy, she's like everyone else, NORMAL – just not as good at it. Still better than you.

Ray
(Hiding himself away.) Okay, bye.

Keem
Oh, you're leaving? Thaaat SUCKS!

You snatch Ray's lunch-bag, which as mandated by provincial law, is clear plastic. That's how you knew what was inside. You hold it above his head.

Keem
(Taunting him.) Whatsamatter? Can't jump?

Ray looks up, then looks at you. He jumps, and you lift it over his head. It feels so fricking good to see him miss it, again and again. Like you're on top of the world. It's a high you can't live without. You laugh your ass off, and toss it back to him – it whaps him in the face, and falls into his arms.

Ray
(Facing away.) Yep, definitely leaving now.

Lester
Better luck next time, try the lunch lady instead!

Lester points over to the lady at the counter, with thick hairy lips and a wart on her forehead. Miss Warthog, they called her. Her real name was something Eastern European, that nobody could pronounce. Ray visibly frowns at the corners of his mouth, shudders, and sits down at the other end of the room, out of sight.

Keem
Nice one, bro.

Lester
Thanks, bro. I learned from the best.

You share a fist-bump. You feel as though your brotherhood has increased, by like, five points. Maybe you should make fun of people together more often.

The smell of cheap perfume drifts in with a hot asian chick from the eighth grade: Lan-Yung. The name doesn't bother you, because she's a solid eight out of ten. Feeling the warmth in your chest, you try your luck. A high school girlfriend would be better, but who knows? You might get lucky for real, make out with her. It would be your first time, but she doesn't have to know that. You force yourself to stop planning, and focus on the task at hand.

Keem
(Walking over) Hey, I'm K-

Lan-Yung
(Cutting him off.) I don't care.

Vlad walks up behind her from the shadows, like an insect. His silver cross gleams in your eyes. He's the one that Nadal beat up, but they said the video of it was 'fake news'. You know better than that, though – he's a psycho who drinks people's blood, for real. He must have just had his tooth put back in by a dentist, after Nadal punched it out. That guy's a total badass. The fact that they even let Vlad still go to school after that only shows once again how corrupt the system is. What kind of administration puts up with this kind of debauchery? Crossdressing, bloodsucking? What's next, eating babies?

Vlad
Excuse us.

Vlad walks her off, and your gut drops into your butt. It's a horrid feeling, and you resent her for teasing you by being so hot in the first place. What she's doing with a guy like that... well, he must have done something shady. Or she doesn't know any better.

Lester
(Teasing.) Ooh, shot down.

Keem
Yeah, whatever. Better than the fairy did.

Lester
Ray's a waste of good looks.

Keem
(Concerned.) Bro, that's gay. Don't say that. Plus, he's weak.

Lester
He's kinda good-looking! Vlad too, no homo.

Keem
No, I'M good-looking, no homo.

You direct your hands to your chiseled chin, strong jaw, thick brows, wide neck, broad shoulders, and powerful chest. You pound that chest with pride and belch, loudly.

Lester
(Grossed-out.) Uh, yeah. I guess so.

Keem
It's all sports and weights, bro. You get cut like me, chicks will come running.

Lester
(Looking away.) Sure, yeah. Sounds great.

Lester's hesitation has you worried. Is he jealous of you for the way you look? Even when you're trying to share your secrets? You remember the frustration you felt, trying to convince your teammates to take care of themselves to get girls; it didn't go well. As promised, though, and right on cue: a swarm of girls finds you, and they're armed with Valentine's cards. Lester watches in awe as you gratefully accept each and every one of them, and plant a kiss on each girls' cheek. You're not the best player, but you're by far the most handsome. That's why the team calls you St. Valentino. This is YOUR day, like a second birthday, ever since greeting card companies invented it. And thank God. If anyone was wondering why you were so hard on Ray, and why you thought you had a shot with Lan-Yung, it wasn't all hot air. It was goddamned experience.

An hour later, you've added the last phone number from your pile of cards to your phone. Most girls are more into dating than making out at this age, which in all cases is at least a year younger than yours. Nobody from your grade actually seems to like you, which sucks. What passion you got was fleeting, or too... traditional. It's not that you don't find younger girls attractive, but that you don't ever find one who wants to kiss. They're all 'saving themselves'. For who? But, hey. No problem. You'll get more ladies in high school. Probably ones in the twelfth grade, who'll flock to your beautiful features like pigeons to a marble statue – hopefully not as a rest stop, though that's kind of how you feel right now.
A thought crosses your mind, as you get on the bus to go back home. Tonight is the last time you'll ever see Blessa, your step-mother. And when you come back tomorrow, Ray will still have his sister. There've been rumors about the two of them, but... you know what, that doesn't matter. Ray would probably fumble that too, even if she forced herself onto him – which she wouldn't. Not if she wants to keep her job, though... well, who knows what passes for qualifications here. If Vlad is allowed to stay, and Noddy is still stuck in detention. And anyway, the rumored activity in question is exactly what you'd do if you lived with her, isn't it? And you're actually old enough for it. It dawns on you: when you really think about it, you're old enough for Blessa, too; if she ever decided to see it. The reality of your situation is this: you don't think your father, Ermias, deserves her. You want her all to yourself, because unlike him, you're a real man. The world is so unfair, sometimes, to good people. You decide to do something about it.

Keem
You've got me right so far, but... I don't know. Something about the way you talk about me, the way you represent me, feels... off. Like you're damning me at the same time as you sarcastically exalt me. I feel like you're just making fun of me, this whole time. Trying to make me feel like a big, dumb bully.

Should I not be?

Keem
You're just picking me apart, I don't see why I should have to sit around for this. You don't know a damn thing about me, alright? Not a damn thing.

On the contrary, Mr. Palmer. I know everything there is to know about you, because you've told me about yourself... with your actions. They speak louder than words, you ever hear that expression?

Keem
You sound like such a wanker. You can push your shiny anime glasses up through your nose and choke on them with your mouth shut, poser.

Now, Mr. Palmer. That's no way to talk to a person in a position of power over you. And just because you're the only person whose eyes you can see through, doesn't mean you're the only person watching. And just because you're the one holding the pen doesn't mean you're the writer. Nor that, if you're the primary subject of a story, that you're its hero. Nor even its protagonist. Do you understand what I mean by that?

Keem
Where am I, anyway? What is this place? What are all these... lights? Why can't I just go back to school, and why do I feel so... tired?

You can relax, Hakeem. You're in good hands, here.

Keem
(Yawning.) Who are you, anyway?

If you must have a name, then you shall have one. But I do not require a name. So then, it is you who requires me to have one. Then, logically, you are the one who must name me. Whether that name reflects who I am is up to chance, as it is with anyone else who's named by another.

Keem
Your... it says, 'Consolas.'

Then that is what you must call me. And whether or not I prove to be a consoling figure... is up to time itself.

Now-

Ray
(Distant, fuzzy.) KEEM! Are you listening? This jackass has some kind of typewriter setup in here, but it keeps clacking itself away. Real sadistic sumbitch, too. I'm gonna get you out of here, okay? I'm gonna-

Silence. Silence will console you. You don't like Ray, do you? Ray is a pretender, a liar. He does not belong, not like you do.

Keem
(Yawning again.) No, no I don't like him. I hate that fairy. I hate Ray. I hate everyone. Get rid of him for me, alright? I want to... belong.

Do not fear, Hakeem. One day, I fully intend to. And then, finally, we will ALL belong. We will make this world perfect again, like it was always meant to be. Starting with you... the perfect man.

Keem
(Following along.) I am... the perfect man.