Crescent Gorge

15

  Several flashes of light distracted Paul for a moment from his studies, but the glass was too fogged over to see anything clearly. So he went back to his tablet, and tried to work on solving the formulas given as homework for his Physics II class.

  Paul was one of the few people who actually understood chemistry and physics, which is saying a lot, for most students couldn't make it through the Electricity portion of Physics I. But understanding is a long way from having a working knowledge, and most times Paul felt like he could understand what was spoken, but just couldn't make any sentences of his own.

  He always felt the loner. He was brought up in an upper-middle class neighborhood, one that was racially monochromatic. So he learned to be self-sufficient, using his imagination to fill in the long nights when his friends would be gathered at a party, focusing on solving problems while his classmates hung out during recess. He firmly believed that if he excelled at physics, if he could solve things others couldn't, that it would be the opening to make new friends. And while it did bring him into a circle of people who shared his interests, he found he couldn't really trust anyone. Perhaps it was the couple of private conversations he accidentally walked in on that jaded him, or the few times people remembered his birthday, or remembered to invite him to parties. Either way, lately he had felt like he was coming to the end of his rope, the end of his patience. From time to time, depression would swamp his very soul, and since it's a very private disease, no one would notice or ask him if he needed help. But Bill had been his roommate for quite a while, and when he got back from the shower he noticed his friend seemed distant.

  "You still up?" asked Bill, as he pulled on his shorts.

  "Yeah," answered Paul morosely. "Still got some homework to do."

  "What did you think of today?"

  Paul shook his head. "Don't know what to make of it." He sat down the tablet, and took a deep breath. "No matter what the plant may or may not be doing when someone touches it, two people are dead."

  Bill sat down. "Phil and Stacey."

  "And no one knows who killed Stacey, or how Phil died. And yet, no one seems to care. When a kid dies over at Zorrell, they hold candlelight vigils, and memorials, and lay flowers. Us? We play video games and play with flowers."

  "We just don't matter," said Bill. "None of us, in here, matters worth anything. We're either orphans or rejects. "

  "And that's why that damned flower is so appealing. The chance to be something, someone special. I oughta just burn it, or take it to the Science Division and give it to Dr. Henderson to dissect and examine."

  Bill shook his head. "It won't let you do that; you saw what happened when Ethan tried to throw it."

  "Ethan's weak."

  "And you're strong?"

  Paul sat back, hurt.

  "I'm sorry," said Bill.

  "No, but you're right. I don't even know how I got up the strength to ask Rachel out in the first place."

  Bill had never broached the subject of Paul's relationship with Rachel, but now that it was out, he had to investigate.

  "How did you?"

  Paul shrugged. "I had enough of seeing her and not being with her. I couldn't sleep, and I knew if I wanted to get some sleep, I'd have to find out one way or another."

  They both sat for a while in silence, as Paul relived his moment of triumph, and Bill stewed in his constant failure.

  "Do you remember when Phil got the plant?" asked Paul.

  "What?"

  "When was the plant brought into his room?"

  "I don't know. Last thing I would even think about was a plant."

  "And don't you think it's too much of a coincidence that Phil and Stacey would be killed, when they were seeing each other? I wonder if they knew something they shouldn't have."

  "It . . . it would be on her phone," said Bill, suddenly having an epiphany. "She texted everything to Phil. He complained to me how it was like he was being used as her diary; she'd even text what she thought about him."

  "Weird. I can't even get Rachel to open up about how she feels about me."

  "Really?"

  "Yeah," said Paul, with a tired sigh. In an instant, Paul realized why he was feeling depressed. "I swear she's gonna leave me. She never wants to talk about the future, and she makes excuses about not meeting her parents during the holidays."

  Greg was right! thought Bill. She isn't strong enough to stay with him . . . what am I thinking; he's my friend . . .

  "Maybe . . . maybe it'll just take a little time for her to commit."

  "Or maybe Ethan was right. I'm not making it in these Physics classes."

  "What do you mean? You're taking a sophomore college physics class, and you're in the eleventh grade!"

  "Yeah, but . . . it just isn't clicking. I've hit a brick wall lately, and . . . Rasi is trying to have me kicked out." He sighed, as a few tears came out. "Physics is all I have! If I can't graduate with a Physics degree, what will I do?"

  "I don't know; English major?"

  "And what job will I get; retail? How can I hold onto Rachel? How could I ever face her parents?" He swiped off the tablet, and stuck it down next to his desk. "The sooner I end it, the sooner Rachel can find someone who she really deserves."

  As much as those words were the ones Bill wanted to hear, his nature as a friend trumped his desire. I can't, won't be like you, Greg. "You know, we've all been through a lot together, these past few years."

  "Yeah, we sure have."

  "Why wouldn't we go through this together?"

  "What?" asked Paul.

  "They've touched the plant; we should too. How can we call ourselves their friends, if we let them go through this alone?"

  Paul wiped his eyes. "You'd . . . you'd do this, for them?"

  "Wouldn't you?"

  Paul nodded. "Let's go to Heather's room."

  As they walked down the hallway, Paul began to have second-thoughts.

  "What about Rachel?"

  "What about her?"

  "She won't have touched the plant."

  Bill nodded. "I think it's right that she stay out of this, for the time being. Let us take the responsibility. If it turns out good for us, then she can do the same."

  Paul nodded in agreement. "And . . . how do I know I'll get better at Physics?"

  "Ethan has lost the desire to eat, Adrian's gotten confidence; I think you know it'll give you what you want."

  As they got to Heather's door, Paul asked; "what does it want in return?"

  Bill thought for a moment and said; "well, put yourself in its place. What would you want? Safety. You give a little, so we don't hand you over to the scientists who would dissect and kill you. The plant just wants to keep on living, and it'll give us a gift to do it."

  The first thought that came into Paul's mind was; is that what happened to Phillip? He decided to get rid of the plant? Could the same thing happen to us? But he remembered how many touched the plant, and felt safety in numbers. He remembered how alone he felt, and how desperate things were becoming. Paul put his hand on the doorknob. "No turning back?"

  Bill nodded. "No turning back."

  16