It's funny. We're so different. Me and Kein. He's so shy. Quiet. Introverted.
But I think I would die if I couldn't talk to people.
Even our mark. He is curious, true. But he's curious in a different way. He just need to know things, then he's fine. He just needs knowledge.
Me? I need to see those things. Be out in those places he reads about. I want to leave. Go somewhere else. See something no one's seen.
I wonder about the other planes. I want to see them. Travel there. Why can't we? The Faeries are clever. And magickal. They could let us.
Sometimes I don't like the Faeries. What they did. They made it impossible to find out your sexuality. I have liked two girls. Three boys. What does that mean? Am I bi? Gay? I don't know. Nobody really has a sexuality anymore. But we still say we do. But everyone is the same.
Maybe that's good. I don't know. I guess the Fae thought so. But I want to be different. Not like everyone. I want to be accepted, sure. Everyone wants that. But still an individual.
But everyone's the same. Equally talented. Same sexuality. All open-minded. No religion, anymore. We have different personalities. Different talents. But we're all the same. I hate it.
I want to leave.
* * *
I went to Kein's house the giorno after he fell asleep. I kept teasing him about it. Sleeping during class. And an honers student like himself.
I sat successivo to the window, him, the aisle. He pulled a book from his bag. I grinned. Leggere again. He loves reading.
I watched him for a while, until I got bored. Stared out the window. Got bored. I tried Leggere over his shoulder, but I hate reading. It always seemed redundant to me.
"Whatcha reading?" I asked.
"It's a book on the different realities. It covers bonds and Faeries. We learnt about it in class, and I found it intriguing, so Ms. Satari let me borrow a book on it."
'Intriguing.' Who says that?
"Anyway, she detto she'll give me extra credit if I write a book segnala on it," he went on.
"Like te need better grades."
"There's nothing wrong with bringing your grades up, Mic. te should try it sometime." He kept reading.
I glared at him. He ignored me. I went back to staring out the window.
I saw Kein's house slid into view. Nudged Kein. He looked up, saw his house. Stood. I handed him his backpack, grabbed mine, followed him down the aisle.
We walked down the driveway and through the front door. I smelled sausage. His mom's always making food.
Kein dumped his backpack on the living room floor. I followed suit.
"Would te like to go up to my room?" Kein asked.
I shrugged. "Sure."
He went around the corner, up the stairs. I went after him. Down a hallway. Open a door. There was Kein's room. Small. Ratty green carpet. One window. Chunky computer.
I kicked off my shoes and climbed on his bed. Kein sat down at his computer and started it up.
I laid down and closed my eyes. The computer hummed. Kein typed something in. Then a long pause. A click. più typing. Scrolling. Another click.
I sat up. "Watcha doing?"
I walked to him and looked over his shoulder. "You're obsessed with those now, aren't you?"
"You don't find them interesting?"
"Of course I do." Kein clicked on a website. We waited as it loaded.
"Do te think the other altered realities are different from ours?" Kein asked. "I mean, to te suppose they are altered in different ways?"
"Never really thought about it," I said. The website popped up. 'Contact a Citizen from Another Plane.' That's what it was titled.
"That's a bunch of bologna," I said.
"You don't know that," he said.
"It may work, Mic."
"Go ahead and try."
I shrugged and went back to his bed. Lay down. I was tired.
'Click. Clackety-clack." Kein went along on his computer.