Click. Deny. Click. Deny. Click. Deny. Accept, on second thought, deny. All I hear is constant clicking. The constant clicking of my keyboard is a sound that I've become accustomed to. My finger make contacts with one button though, and that button, is the deny button. My screen is filled with pages upon pages of requests, whether the request be for housing or a meeting, no matter the subject, all of them being denied. Unless, the sender is one of the sector leaders, if it’s one of them, the email is sent to one of the higher ups., Mr. Howard’s personal assistants. Basically, everyone on this floor including myself, are just the messengers.
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The sound of other people, whether it be pleasant chatter, or especially the sound of blatant scolding are sounds that I’m still learning to live with and acknowledge. Because all calm can turn into is chaos. The sound of happiness doesn’t make me jealous per se, more worried, anxious. The sound of casual talk used to paint the walls of my family home like a fresh paint job, but then the paint was rough and rugged, until of course the paint just vanished.
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"I hear that he's planning on handing the position over to Justin when he retires. I mean, what's so special about him?" another jealousy-driven colleague openly questions. Nothing, is my unspoken reply to a question I wasn’t asked, one I’m never asked, but still find myself answering. Not that I should be surprised, that they asked, it’s always Justin this, or Justin that, and that’s just the way that it’s been since Mr. Howard hired me.
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If he does hand the company over to me, it's for the pity that Luke Howard swears he doesn't have for me. He thinks that I don’t notice the stolen glances directed toward me constantly in a way that is similar to the way a mother bird looks at a hatchling. That I don’t notice the hushed warnings given to people when a sly comment is spoken, whether it is directed towards me or not. He thinks that I don’t notice, but I do. It dosent bother me though, ever since Mr. Howard took me in as his son, many started hating me more than usual, and if we are being honest, I don’t think I could handle it all on my own.
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My ocean like eyes are something that is supposed to be found only in a wise old man, not in an 18-year-old boy. Their depth at first glance seems shallow. A pretty boy, nothing new, nothing interesting. Upon deeper inspection, you will find that my eyes hide all of my secrets, and that they're the gateways to my soul. Looking around at my fellow workers, I think to myself that I might be the only one with a soul.
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“He is kinda hot though,” Suzanne whispers not so quietly. Her admission makes my freckle-littered cheeks redden, and I put my head down like you see girls do in TV. Only, my tangled dirty blonde hair isn’t long, but short, and action shows that my hair greatly contrasts the smoothed back dark colored hair of the other office employees.
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My coworkers despise me, but their hate for children is understandable, I guess. After that fateful year. After the year of the population boost that forced our country into sectors, many families being split because of it. Here’s where I start to question their logic though. It’s not our faults.
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Our world used to be full of freedom, of equality, but ever since the number of people increased, the number of opportunities for freedom decreased. Now instead of late night parties and playful nighttime gatherings, you’ll be lucky to find a child out past curfew. No fancy gatherings include children. Anyone born in the last 20 years is seen as scum, as unworthy, as the reason for Sector 1.
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But some were accepting, for example, Luke Howard. Personally, I think that he should just give up, not only on me, but on trying to fix this world. I mean, I practically ruined his life, especially his reputation. The way people look at him, the way they regard him. Luke Howard is an amazing man, but I don't know if I deserve his graciousness. He didn’t notice the level of respect for him declining until it was eventually nonexistent. Workers who usually have preparations done weeks early turn into jobs that are barely done on time.
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Speak of the devil.
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"Justin Collins to my office. I need Mr. Collins in my office," he goes on, treating me like a baby. If it was anyone else, there would have been a simple, “Mr. Jacoby, you have 20 seconds to get to my office.” He babies me too much, more than even my own parents did, but that's another story for another time, preferably a time that my boss isn't and waiting for me.
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I dragged my lean yet muscular body off of my comfy chair knowing that even though he favors me, Mr. Howard does not appreciate being ignored, and so, I trudge toward his office. The slow pace of my walking is heard from the squeaking of my hardly new black sneakers, which are mismatched to my pristine and pricey polished outfit. No matter the begging he did, or the pleading and cooing that she did, I would not allow the Howard’s to buy me something as unnecessary as shoes. You see, I am no gold digger. In fact, I despise those types of people. In conclusion, I am stubborn and didn't allow any more money to be wasted on me.
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Trudging down the well lit, and glass-window covered hallway, I continue walking until I see a plaque on the door that says Luke Howard, when I do reach said door, I take a deep breath, and knock twice.
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"Come in," is the response I receive quick and in a hurry from a familiar booming baritone voice. Stepping into the all too familiar office, I only now notice that it seems completely trip proof. The dark brown hardwood flooring that bears rugs nor any other raised surfaces. Also in the room are his precisely organized shelves against the wall, and pristine desk stand against the other wall.
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The man sitting behind the desk has a hat of hair the color of salt and pepper, that is a little heavy on the salt. His age clearly represented in the increasingly receding hairline of his. This man is Luke Howard. This man who constantly acts as if things are perfect is the one and only, Luke Howard.
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The corners of his eyes don't crinkle in joy, instead, they crinkle in age. They follow me in an overly cautious way, as if he's waiting for me to crumble. This look isn't new, the meaning behind it however, is different from most people. A coworker or an elder would seek my defeat, and find it gratifying. To them, I am just another face that caused the sectors. To Luke Howard, I am a son, troubled yet still his own heart. He watches for my fall in hopes of catching me he says, though that’s not how I see it.
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"Ahem." the clearing of his throat breaks me out of my peaceful trance that I constantly find myself lost in. "On the monitors, it looked as if those ungrateful workers of mine were talking poorly about a coworker, which may I remind you is a violation punishable by removal from my company. Do you agree that they have violated the rules, and should be removed?"
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The Luke Howard Law. After I was brought into his life two years ago, Mr. Howard found it necessary to put in a rule that says "any mistreatment of the fellow citizen in this building is punishable by immediate contract termination". This rule, along with many other things he does just ooze babying behavior.
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"Sir, I don't think that will be necessary concerning the problem at hand," I reply, matching my tone to his affirmative one. With age comes wisdom, so they say. But with Luke, I'm not so sure if that's the case. I don't think he realizes that the outcome of this favoritism towards me is more violations in his "law". In the end, the rule is more trouble than it’s worth.
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"Justin, I don't want to know what you think. I want to know the truth, violation, yes or no," he states sternly, starting to get agitated and frustrated that I won’t give him the answer he desires.
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"Sir, this isn’t a fair situation," I say. My voice starting to sound pleading. My attitude doesn’t usually allow me to be a beggar, but when it comes to the firing of someone, it’s as if a switch goes off in my head telling me to beg. Firings lead to enemies, and everyone knows that I have more than enough of those.
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"Let me make it fair for you. In exactly one minute, you'll be off the clock, but if you want to lie and play games, you can stay, but I’d hate for you to miss the bus. Since you’ll have free time, you can also apologize to your coworkers from being an inconvenience," I know for a fact that he hears the begging, and yet this is his answer. When he says this, his face is unreadable. Not sure if he is lying or not, and really desperate to catch that bus, I tell the truth.
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"They did mistreat me, but-" I rush out hoping to cover for them before I am abruptly cut off. Why I even tried, I don’t know.
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"That is all I need to know, please leave." cool attitude returns after he gets his way. That's another thing about Luke Howard, the battle is not won until he gets his way. Some say this is what makes him a great businessman. Some (like me) find this characteristic mildly irritating. He is great though, so great, that all important data, finds its way to him. "Close the door behind you," he not so subtly prompts seeing as I haven't risen from my chair.
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"Goodbye Sir," I defeatedly sigh, knowing that this is the end of the conversation. This conversation is so similar to many others I’ve had, as familiar as the back of my hand. Trudging back to the main room, I glance at my 3 ex coworkers, at least that is what they'll be in...three. Two. One.
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"Mr. Ruiz, Mrs. Coleman, and Miss Daniels are needed in my office immediately," Luke's voice blares through the speakers in a voice that makes everyone return to work immediately. The three confidently pass by, probably thinking that their behavior will be rewarded with a raise. Wrong.
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Leaving the building with my packed briefcase, I race to make it to the door of the bus. I find myself so close, yet so far, as soon as I start to cross the street, the blue and yellow vehicle zooms away. Just my luck.
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Taking the time to catch my breath, I scanned my surroundings, the birds, don't chirp or squawk, seeing as they're banned from here. Same as any other pets or animals, they are in sector two, the agriculture and animal sector. Sector one, is the business sector, which explains why the skyline is painted with grays and windows. My building is the most intimidating of them all. Its sharp edges, and pristine exterior give it the air of you’d imagine a king to have.
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The honking of an all-too-familiar pink Subaru startles me to the point screaming. Loudly. And very high pitched. To my left, Carly struggles to catch your breath.
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"It-you-," she breaks off her poorly formed sentence with another round of giggles. Carly is a preppy pink kind a girl, but I guess beggars can't be choosers.
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<<<<<<<<<<<<Flashback>>>>>>>>>>>>
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"Mommy, I want to do a flip, look at my flip mommy," 8-year-old Carly exclaims, with a slightly different body shape, but still with big green eyes, and flowing long brown hair.
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“I want to watch too,” I think to myself unaware of the exact direction that she hoped to perform the flip. The direction being right at me. She starts her cart wheel well, but ends...Not so well.
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"Carly, you just knocked over that poor boy. Apologize." her mother sternly demands.
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"I-I'm-" she starts while sniffling too much understand.
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"I'm sorry Carly. I take all of the blame. I'm sorry Carly's Mommy for hurting her." I apologize as Carly's mommy's mouth is slowly opening, and she starts looking more and more surprised.
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"Where did you learn that from?" she breathlessly questions still with her mouth agape.
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"Mommy and daddy told me that I should always be nice to cute girls," I replied while my ears and cheeks slowly turn red.
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"You think I'm cute?" Carly asked cheerfully, her voice was just a few sniffles.
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"Yes,"
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<<<<<<<<<<Flashback End>>>>>>>>>>>
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Our relationship stayed purely platonic. In fact, she has a boyfriend. A very intimidating boyfriend I may add. Speaking of... "Where is Charlie?" I ask are hoping she'll give me a straightforward answer.
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"Oh, Charlie, he's my favorite boyfriend ever. He’s so nice, I love him. I mean, do I really know what love is though? I really like him, but is it the same. Hold up let me ask Siri," she rambles. Did I mention that Carly likes to talk a lot?
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"Carly," I say slowly before she can summon Siri on her phone.
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"Yes Justin?" she asks already on to the next topic in her mind.
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"I asked where he was?" I restate my question, hoping for the corresponding answer in return.
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"Right, he's at his house, silly. What? Did you think he would pop up in the seat and shoot you?" Charlie is a scary guy. Tattoos that decorate his arms like a collage, paired with a motorcycle and bulging muscles, and that isn’t all of it. Charlie Masons is the most wanted criminal in our sector for escaping the sector police. Five times.
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"And you're sure he won't mind?" I'm still wary of the guy. Last time he saw me with Carly, let's just say it wasn't pretty.
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"Of course not, he thinks you're gay. And that you were trying to make him jealous," she cooly replies.
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“He WHAT?"
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<<<<<Time Skip (Back At Home)>>>>>>
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"Justin honey, do you want any food?" my mother sweetly asks. My mom is just someone you can never get mad at. Her honey blonde hair, and soulful blue eyes almost make people think we're related.
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"No Mom. I'll just lay down, I already ate. Can you tell Dad that he needs to stop babying me-"
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"But you are a young man-” she coos.
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"No I'm not Mom, I'm 18 years old. Goodnight," that temper tantrum I just threw probably didn't prove my case, but nevertheless, I stomp upstairs like I've won the case of the century.
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Slamming my door behind me, I grab the tape roll from beside my bed. I add three pieces, one for each of the three people that "Dad" fired, we're now at 20. 20 people that hate me. 20 more to try and hurt me. 20 extra to watch for.
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ns 15.158.61.16da2 
