Excerpt from working novel, “Radio”

Exiting the van and watching Blank pull away to the nearest gas tank, Vapor waited for me to catch up with her to give me a little shoulder bump. I gave a weak smile.

“Hey!” She said, almost singing as she said her next words. “I’m sensing a possibility of some eye candy!! That will surely lighten your mood!”

Are boys the only thing you can think about right now? I asked, trying not to roll my eyes sarcastically.

“And girls!” Vapor said giggling, her eyes widening with anticipation and giving me another shoulder bump as we made our way into the large, yellow, and extremely modern suburban-y rest stop.

While I appreciated nearly everyone’s effort to cheer me up or distract me, it seemed as if they were trying too hard in doing so. I just wasn’t in the mood. If only they could do what Feather was doing, being there for me and wait until I was ready to talk, laugh or to do anything that resembled me returning to my normal self. Yet, no one could be like Feather and it’s wrong of me to hope that they would be. They are who they are, it was simple as that, and I loved them for this reason. Maybe what I was really hoping was for them to ease up on the “let’s-cheer up-Radio-because-her mom-just died” thing. For some reason, I decided to suddenly stop walking not six feet inside the door.

As I looked around with a blur of conversations to early 2000s pop music booming from every corner into my ears, this rest stop was proving to be just like any of the other rest stops we had ever visited— stagnant and sterile from the heavy disinfectants in the air. Then there was the fatty, unbelievably delicious smell of fried chicken from the Roy Rogers which oddly mixed well with the soothing fragrance of roasting espresso beans from the Starbucks. I gazed enviously at three children playing tag while their parents scolded them for not paying attention to the other patrons eating as they scampered around. I was envious because unlike us abominations, these children would experience a normal childhood and life in general. And while the training and the missions had become normal to my unit specifically as more and more time had passed since we were captured, this current display of just being kids made my wish to be a normie that much more strong. Because at the same time these children were playing and rebelling against their parents’ wishes, abominations around the same age as them were learning how to assemble and disassemble a weapon in under 30 seconds. Yet I was so busy watching the normie kids that I totally failed to notice Vapor trying to get my attention.

“Caffeine! Eye candy! Ándale, mamacita!!” Vapor said a little impatiently, when she noticed I was no longer by her side.

You’ve flunked Spanish five times, despite both Surge’s and Dialect’s help, and now you’re proficient in the language? I said sarcastically.

I had to cover my laughter as she flipped me off as I followed her to the Starbucks stand. I could see from my peripherals that Dialect and Feather had found a news stand. I knew she had definitely found maps of the area because, even from 30 yards away, I could still hear her squeal with joy.

As Vapor and I approached the counter at Starbucks, I once again found myself being distracted by the normie children, whose parents were now grabbing ahold of their shoulders and whispering at them. I could tell that whatever the parents were saying wasn’t good, not just from the disgruntled look on the adults’ faces, but from the cowering looks on each of the children’s.

“Ray!— Ray! What do you want?” Vapor asked.

A venti latte, I absently signed and telepathically said, which Vapor verbally repeated to the barista.

“Would you like any flavor in the latte?” The barista asked, which I unconsciously didn’t hear. This was mostly because I was so use to my unit members speaking for me that I usually zoned out.

“Uh—miss?” the barista asked.

After giving a few little waves near my face, I finally registered he was talking to me and not Vapor. It was both startling and perplexing to me as I turned to fully face him. It wasn’t an unusual question, but still an unexpected one. It was as though this barista saw me as a normal customer because he seemed to clearly understand that I wasn’t deaf based on how I responded to Vapor’s verbal question. This again was something that most people somehow failed to comprehend by speaking only to my “interpreter” in order for me to comprehend what they were saying. It was totally degrading, even though I was use to it by now and again the reason why I usually stopped listening during these particular situations. But this— this was truly weird. Who is this guy? By any other standards, he was someone I would never see ever again.

Somehow, I just continued to stare at him for what felt like an eternity. And it would have been incredibly awkward and weird had he said something to break the silence, but he didn’t. He seemed to be as lost in my eyes as I was in his. If 1970s Paul McCartney and James McAvoy had had a love child, this barista would be it. He was just thatgorgeous. Shaggy brown hair flattened by the black Starbucks hat, large droopy brown eyes, a long down-curving nose, a sensuously small thin mouth, and a scruffy beard. He looked to be about my age or perhaps a bit older.

I had to remind myself that I would never see him again. Even if I did, it could never come to anything. “Start to trust, then you’re dust.” It was our unit’s motto because we were trained and believed the survival of the unit always came first. Look, we were hormonal teenagers like any other, normie or abomination, but we made it a rule not to let it get serious, which also included with any friends we would make at every school. Like I had mentioned before, our unit mostly kept to ourselves. And with Blank’s ability before we were about to move, with some exception to this one, lifelong friends outside the unit was not in the cards for us. Yet despite all this, as I continued to stare into those eyes that complimented my own, I never wanted this moment to end.

“No, she does not want any flavor in her latte and if we could get five more plain Venti lattes that would be great,” Vapor said with an air of annoyance, slamming a twenty-five dollars on the counter before leaning over in front of me and interrupting whatever moment this smoking hot barista and I were having.

“Um— yes— okay— cool,” the barista said, trying to collect himself. “I’ll— uh— it will be ready for you at the end of the bar.”

What was that about? Vapor signed and thought.

Following her over to the other side of the bar as I failed at giving a nonchalant glance back at the barista, I signed with a shrug,

Nothing.

Yeah, okay. If you say so, Vapor said telepathically, obviously not believing me as her annoyance turned into amusement.

I do, I telepathically said, while looking anywhere but at Vapor and the barista to hide how much I was blushing.

He is cute. I will admit, she retorted. He’s not my type, but he is cute. Told you there would be a chance at seeing some eye candy!

So? I answered, trying to sound like I didn’t care about how the barista looked.

Nothing, Vapor signed, mocking my earlier comment before gently bumping shoulders with me, yet again.

I couldn’t help but grin at her. She just knew me too well not to know that I wasn’t telling the truth. And as we waited for our unit’s beverages, I couldn’t help looking once more at the barista. He was helping another customer, but I could of sworn his eyes looked in my direction.

Start to trust, then you’re dust, I recited the motto over and over again up until we collected the drinks and the two of us made our way towards the exit and toward the van.

I don’t know if by repeating the motto would actually work this time around. I’ve met plenty of super cute normies in the past, as I’ve mentioned to you before, but this guy was different. I know, how original is that statement? Not much and it’s been used thousands of times in romantic movies and all that. But, oh please, please Vapor don’t say anything to the unit.