In the midst of pandemonium, a teenage boy stood, an island of calm amidst a sea of chaos. Vehicles collided with reckless abandon, the air was filled with the cacophony of terrified screams, and the undead pursued the living with a ravenous hunger. He found himself in the throes of a zombie apocalypse, yet he felt nothing. Fear, anger, sadness - all were absent. The world around him seemed surreal, like a nightmarish dream. And that's precisely what it was.
"Wake up, my dear. We're nearly there," a woman's soothing Irish lilt murmured, her hand gently jostling his shoulder. "You've been quite the slumberer."
"He must be weary. It's a daunting task to leave our homeland," a man's voice chimed in, attempting to infuse cheer into his words.
With a groan of annoyance, I opened my eyes, squinting against the harsh light. Peering out of the airplane window, I saw the clouds beneath us. We were en route to New York, U.S.A. My father had secured a position as a civil servant there, and he desired for us to accompany him. He touted it as a grand opportunity, but I was indifferent. At this juncture, nothing held my interest.
"Good morning, mother. Good morning, father," I responded in a monotone, feigning politeness.
It was merely a dream. The movie World War Z had been my entertainment last night, and it had evidently induced a nightmare. A nightmare that failed to instill fear in me. Nightmares had become a common occurrence since that fateful day. The day that altered everything.
My mother, Beverly, regarded me with a worried gaze, her verdant eyes brimming with affection. "I understand that the prospect of starting anew in a foreign land can be... daunting, but we'll acclimate together," she assured me, her smile tender.
"...sure, mother," I responded, devoid of emotion, my gaze averted.
I was uncertain if life in America would be any different. I questioned if my life in Ireland was even worth reminiscing. My academic life was in shambles. My grades were plummeting due to my apathy. I was friendless, save for that one instance. The one time I believed I had found a kindred spirit, someone who genuinely cared. But he deceived me, he wounded me, he abandoned me.
I was too introverted to engage with others, always dining solo at school. I was a severe introvert, preferring the solitude of my home. This resulted in my frequent absences from school. I was indifferent towards school, my future, and even myself. I yearned to retreat from the world, yet I had to maintain a facade of normalcy for my parents. I loved them, but they were oblivious to my inner turmoil. They were unaware of my shattered spirit.
"Once I've earned a sufficient amount, would you like something from McDonald's, son?" my father, Sean, queried, attempting to initiate a conversation. "Perhaps a Big Mac or a Whopper?"
"Whopper is from Burger King," I corrected him, my tone flat and uninterested.
I was aware that my father was endeavoring to lift my spirits. He was a good man, diligent and loving. He desired the best for me, but he failed to comprehend me. He was ignorant of my experiences, my losses, my sacrifices. He believed that relocating would bring me joy, but it wouldn't.
Nothing could bring me joy. I yearned for solitude. I longed to collapse onto my new bed upon our arrival. I dreaded the prospect of school the following day. I had no desire to meet new people, to form new friendships, to risk being hurt once more. I yearned for respite. I had lost interest in life.
———
The aircraft finally touched down at John F. Kennedy International Airport, concluding an 8-hour journey that seemed to stretch into infinity. With my backpack slung over my shoulder, I trailed behind my parents towards the baggage claim. My belongings were few; nothing I had left behind held any value. I was devoid of friends, hobbies, and cherished memories. They had lost their significance to me.
My mother clasped my hand, her smile radiating warmth, but it failed to stir any emotion within me. I yearned for the confines of the aircraft to be behind me. I yearned for respite. I yearned for oblivion.
We hailed an Uber and embarked on our journey to our new residence, a modest and economical dwelling my parents had secured online. Its proximity to my school and the convenience of transportation were their selling points. I remained indifferent. I occupied the middle seat in the back, my gaze fixed on the world outside.
While most adolescents would resort to their gadgets for entertainment, I found no joy in such distractions. My phone served a singular purpose - to fill the silence of my solitude with music. Music was my sole companion, its melancholic strains resonating with my own desolation.
I could feel my parents' eyes on me, their minds grappling for ways to alleviate my gloom. Their concern was palpable, their efforts to bring a smile to my face relentless. Yet, they were at a loss. They failed to comprehend the depths of my despair.
My father attempted to break the oppressive silence. "So... Jarlath, how about we explore New York after we've settled in?" His voice was tinged with hope. For the record, my name is Jarlath Mavely. Not that it held any significance. I was easily forgotten. I was always overlooked.
"I just want to sleep," I responded, dismissing his suggestion. Exploration, once a source of joy, now held no appeal. I sought escape, not adventure.
My energy reserves had been depleted long ago. I have been running on empty since... No, I refused to dwell on that. My parents exchanged a glance, their worry evident. They were aware of my struggles with school and bullies, but they underestimated the severity. They were oblivious to the pain it inflicted. I wished I could reassure them, tell them it was a passing phase. But I lacked the courage to deceive them.
My love for my parents was unwavering. They stood by me during my frequent absences from school, understanding the turmoil I was in. They uprooted their lives for my sake. Their sacrifices were numerous. I wished I could reciprocate, but... it was of no consequence. I resolved to endure the journey. Or at least feign enjoyment.
Our Uber drove past my new school, Neverware High of Staten Island. It was a public community high school in Brooklyn, offering associate degrees and certificates in various disciplines. Its acceptance rate was a perfect 100%. I surmised that my parents chose this school due to my dismal academic performance.
I was perpetually at the bottom of my class, grappling with assignments, failing tests. Admission to a prestigious school was a distant dream. Not that I aspired for it. School was a personal hell. I loathed it.
A pang of guilt washed over me as I thought of my father's commute. His workplace, the New York City Department of Citywide Administrative Services, was a considerable distance away. He would have to rely on public transportation or taxis.
His days would start early and end late. He would be subjected to immense stress and pressure. He would have to work tirelessly to provide for us. If only I had secured admission to a reputable school in New York City, but alas, my grades were abysmal.
From my perspective, I was a disappointment to him.
"I wonder what the future holds for you, Jarlath," my father, Sean, mused, his voice laced with a hint of uncertainty. "Perhaps a career in law? Is that a possibility?"
"Or maybe a role in law enforcement," my mother, Beverly, chimed in, her attempt to infuse enthusiasm into the conversation barely masking the sorrow in her eyes. "You would look great in a uniform."
I offered no response. The prospect of a career, a future, held no appeal. I was devoid of dreams, devoid of hope. Perhaps a position that demanded minimal effort would suffice. A registrar, perhaps. The remuneration would be modest, but it would be a job nonetheless. Or perhaps a professional sleeper, if such a profession existed.
A sigh escaped my lips. My existence was a constant struggle. I felt... lifeless. I felt akin to a zombie, for some inexplicable reason. I felt as though this life was not meant for me... or perhaps my bitterness was a consequence of betrayal. My thoughts were a jumbled mess. I was at a loss as to why I hadn't reached my breaking point yet. Perhaps I was awaiting a change. Perhaps I was hoping for a miracle. Perhaps I was waiting for the end.
———
Upon our arrival at the apartment, my parents immediately set about unpacking their belongings in the living room. I, however, made a beeline for my bedroom, offering no assistance. I discarded my backpack on the floor and collapsed onto the bed.
The bare mattress was coarse against my skin, but it was a minor inconvenience that wouldn't deter me from sleep. My parents would respect my solitude, only disturbing me when it was time for dinner. I decided to ignore the discomfort and surrender to the lure of sleep.
I glanced at my phone, noting the date. It was September 7, leaving only four days until my birthday. September 11, a date etched into the collective memory for all the wrong reasons. A date that had cast a shadow over my existence since my birth. A date that had made me a target for bullies. My birthdays had never been occasions for joy.
Despite my parents' attempts to host a celebration, the stigma associated with the date deterred any potential guests. It was a source of resentment and bitterness.
"Another birthday. Another meaningless one," I muttered to myself, cueing up Dionne Warwick's song, That's What Friends Are For. This song, a relic from the 1980s, was the sole beacon of hope in my life, though its effect was waning.
I was roused from sleep at 7:30 P.M. by my mother's call for dinner. McDonald's was on the menu, a practical choice given the absence of groceries. I wasn't particular about my meals, so I settled for a Cheeseburger and a McFlurry with Oreo cookies. Our meal was consumed in silence, an awkwardness permeating the air, even for me.
"Jarlath, will you be attending school tomorrow?" my mother inquired gently, concerned about the prospect of me missing the first day. "I respect your decision if you prefer to start next Monday, September 11, but..."
"We'd like you to at least attend the first day before you... well, you know," my father interjected, hopeful that I would acquiesce.
Their arguments were valid. I hadn't planned on attending school due to my discomfort with the new environment. I intended to take a few days to relax before deciding when to start school. I wanted to follow my own desires, but I also didn't want to disappoint my parents further. They had already shown immense patience with me, which I perceived as a failure on my part. I supposed attending once wouldn't hurt.
I sighed, "Fine..."
My parents were taken aback by my response. They had likely anticipated a refusal, a pattern I had established in the past. I could see their happiness at my agreement to attend the first day of school tomorrow.
I had to admit, despite my aversion to school, it was heartening to see my parents happy. I didn't want them to be burdened with sadness because of me. I wanted them to experience more joy than I did. They had made numerous sacrifices for me, and I wanted them to pursue their own happiness.
"I'm going to my room," I announced, leaving the dining room after finishing my meal, a small smile playing on my lips.
"Okay, honey," my mother responded, her face lighting up with a loving smile.
I covered my bed with a sheet, unable to tolerate the itchiness any longer. As I lay down, I set Cadmium's 'No Friends' to play on loop, allowing the music to lull me to sleep.
I was apprehensive about attending the new school tomorrow, but I harbored a wish... a fervent wish... that my school life would be an improvement over my experiences at Nord Anglia International School Dublin and my life in Ireland in general.
———
The same nightmare revisited me, the one featuring a zombie apocalypse. Its origin was a mystery, as I hadn't indulged in any zombie-themed movies recently. Perhaps it was a manifestation of my inner fears and isolation.
This time, the setting of the nightmare had shifted. Instead of standing amidst a horde of zombies on a street, I found myself in a dilapidated grocery store. It bore the signs of long-term abandonment. The shelves were barren, the lights flickered intermittently, and a layer of dust and dried blood coated the floor. Zombies roamed aimlessly, their moans echoing through the deserted store.
A peculiar sight caught my attention. A humanoid figure lay on the ground, a dark and ominous aura surrounding it. A crimson stain marred its throat and the side of its head. It bore a striking resemblance to a zombie, but its appearance was far more sinister.
I couldn't identify it, but it filled me with dread. It seemed to be in a state of slumber, but I had an unsettling feeling that it would awaken soon. I needed to escape. I needed to wake up.
I bolted upright in bed, my body slick with sweat, my breath coming in ragged gasps. A glance at the clock revealed it was 4:50 A.M. It was an ungodly hour to be awake, but I had made a promise to my parents to attend the first day of school. Despite my disdain for school, I was unwilling to break my promise. I had no choice but to rise.
I exited my bedroom quietly, careful not to disturb my slumbering parents. They deserved their rest. They had exerted considerable effort to relocate to this new city for my sake. I took a quick shower and changed into my clothes.
I opted for a simple black shirt, layered with a black hoodie. I paired it with comfortable black pants and black rubber shoes. Black was my color of choice; it mirrored my mood. I consumed the leftovers from dinner for breakfast and left a note for my parents.
I informed them that I was leaving for school early and assured them not to worry. I grabbed my backpack, which contained nothing more than a notebook and a pen. I didn't require anything else.
I sighed, "I'm heading to school early by myself. I don't want to disturb my parents."
———
I stepped onto the grounds of Neverware High of Staten Island. The school was surprisingly expansive, comparable to other institutions, but it appeared to be on the brink of collapse, overrun with vines. It seemed as though the school had been forsaken, yet it continued to function. I surmised they lacked the funds for maintenance or cleanup. It seemed fitting that such a school would be suitable for me.
"I'll just wait here." I settled onto a bench that creaked ominously under my weight. I wondered why they couldn't afford to replace a simple bench.
I plugged in my earphones and lost myself in music as soon as I could hear my own heartbeat. Fear was beginning to creep in. I despised that feeling. Truth be told, I suffered from autophobia, a fear of being alone. I was unaccustomed to solitude, especially when my parents were absent. Music was my only solace. I should have arrived later. I wasn't sure if I could endure the wait until more students arrived.
"I was too impatient..." My breathing was labored as I tried to calm myself, resorting to the childish strains of 'Baby Shark' for comfort. It was ineffective! Why did I think it was a good idea to arrive early!?
"Are you okay?" A girl's voice broke through my panic.
The oppressive weight on my chest began to lift at the sound of another person. I saw a girl with a tomboyish appearance, wearing glasses and carrying several books. She was somewhat cute, though that was irrelevant at the moment. I vowed never to arrive early again, not that I planned on attending classes regularly anyway.
"Yes, I'm fine," I responded, my tone curt yet tinged with a hint of gratitude for her timely arrival. "I'm just... weary..."
The girl chuckled in response, "I can relate. You must be new here. I don't recall seeing you last year."
"I... suppose I am," I conceded. Given the sparse student population, it was likely easy for her to identify newcomers. This school seemed more like a ghost town. "I'm Jarlath Mavely. I just moved here."
"Priscilla Josephine," she introduced herself warmly. "I'll sit over there."
She gestured towards the bench opposite me. For some reason, I felt a sense of ease around her. I could envision us becoming friends. I yearned for a genuine friendship... but then again, I had harbored the same hope with my "best friend" until I was betrayed. That experience had made it difficult for me to trust anyone. I despised my life.
It was now 7:00 A.M. The number of students had increased significantly compared to three hours ago when I had arrived. However, the crowd was still sparse. I surmised they were likely in a similar predicament as me... or perhaps they were financially disadvantaged. The small student body was a silver lining for me as it reduced the likelihood of bullying. I might even... make new friends... possibly.
"Well, the school is about to open," Priscilla initiated a conversation, her voice brimming with enthusiasm. "Are you excited for the first day!?"
I groaned, "No."
I couldn't fathom her excitement about school. To me, it was a living nightmare. I was already grappling with my personal issues, and now I had to contend with school. Dropping out wasn't an option either, as I didn't want my parents' enrollment fee to go to waste. Anyway, it was only for today. I had no intention of attending school tomorrow.