In Case of Rejection

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

When Matthew left the house, two feelings were brimming at the surface of his consciousness: confusion and betrayal.

He was confused with his father's sudden arrival, and the way that, despite knowing not much about the world, he somehow knew it better than others. Secondly, his heart was breaking for his father, in a way that in Matthew's mind translated to bitterness over anything. He didn't want to be sad about it, he wanted to be angry.

This man, who Matthew loved and cherished every moment with, had been stripped of everything that made him who he was. He was a hollowed-out shell, like the ghost of someone Matthew had known before. He was rid of any privacy, turned into a symbol of everything the people of Sector 18 hated. This man, who only ever helped the First Five, engineering Bot tech and Blue tech alike and changing the face of the world forever, was made their test subject. After all he's done for them. That made him angry.

Matthew was having a hard time comprehending it all at once, so he ran from his feelings. He ran up B Block and down Main Street, up towards the school. The school was one of the few buildings in Sector 18 that didn't fit the general aesthetic of nondescript, dark gray, metallic things. It was a conglomerate of white buildings, all spread out across the black asphalt of the courtyard. They were all relatively similar, only differing in size. Each building had long rectangular windows on either side, allowing for looking outside during class, waiting on the passing hours. Matthew regarded it differently too based on his mother's opinion, saying it looked something like her high school, back when there weren't sectors separating the world. It was an adjustment for her, but to Matthew, it was all he had ever known.

Matthew plopped down alongside the wire fencing on the east side of the school, holding his backpack tight against his stomach. He had his father's letter in his hand, not letting it out of his sight. And while he had basically memorized it at that point, he couldn't bear to put it away.

Matthew thought of the recent events. Another warning, written out in real time before him. While it was disturbing, it was more interesting than anything -- Matthew figured they had to be able to hear and see through his father. They were analyzing his every move, he imagined.

But something wasn't sitting right with him, aside from the obvious. He didn't know what to make of it all -- he was unable to understand how the Blue technology was potentially dangerous, warranting all these frightening, ambiguous warnings. Not if Blues could control themselves, anyway.

Too much surveillance? Matthew wondered, though he knew full well that Bots were bad enough. Blues wouldn't make things that much worse. Maybe getting into the homes of the people had something to do with it. His thoughts drifted further and further apart to the point of sleepiness.

Matthew closed his eyes for what felt like a minute, then turned into several, rudely awakened by the ringing of the school bell. Three shrill dings over the sound system, echoing out through the courtyard. The bodies started to file out of the big front doors and from the sides, coloring the darkness of the asphalt with life. Matthew shot upward from his seat on the pavement, dusting off the legs of his pants, finding his feet asleep.

He scanned the crowd, eyes crossing over the hundreds of gray-outfitted bodies, huddled into indistinct packs. Matthew desperately searched for his -- Dusty's tall, dark figure. Olive's smaller, thin one. Meng, Jason. Anyone.

He made his way around to the front gates, leaning up against the bars as the kids started to shuffle out. He'd have to catch them here. Waiting on the opposite side of the school, some passing by looked at him strangely. Mostly the younger ones. A girl from Matthew's class even smiled at him.

He was about to give up, with the gradual dying down of the commotion in the schoolyard, when a hand pulled his shoulder from behind.

He whipped around suddenly, facing the figure that had grabbed him. There stood Olive, mouth agape, eyes wide and green.

"Matthew," she gasped, and she launched forward towards him, pulling him into a tight hug around the middle. He put his hands over her back, catching Dusty behind her. Meng and Jason too, but back a ways, mixed in with the others leaving. They had the most peculiar faces put on, odd and apprehensive.

Olive looked up at Matthew, eyes suddenly full of tears.

"I'm so sorry," she said, but Matthew didn't feel the tears on his end. He was in a different mode than he was earlier. He wasn't thinking about his father really, he was thinking about Brick Sanders, and the way he clapped his father on the back during the broadcast. The way he showed him off like his own spectacular invention. Matthew couldn't get the image of him out of his head.

"I'm sorry, too," Dusty said, voice low and sympathetic. It sounded different from every other time Matthew had heard it, and Matthew smiled weakly in his direction.

"Are you okay? What happens now?" Olive asked. Matthew shook his head, rifling through a million thoughts and answers and while trying to decide which to attend to first.

"Let's talk about this elsewhere," Matthew said, and Dusty nodded attentively.

"The Arcade," Olive said firmly, almost like she expected it.