𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐑 𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐁𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐒. In one state alone, in just one minute, a plethora of experiences were to be had, so many stories to be told. Lives were changed in mere seconds, people were meeting, people were leaving, sorrow and joy simultaneously experienced within such a small space of time and area, an entire life lived, an entire life lost, and an entire life just newly born. The possibilities were utterly endless.

In one blip in the city stood Betty Brant, who was shopping with one of her best friends, the two scrutinizing their reflections in the mirror. There were many situations in which best friends would be shopping, but theirs was a rather interesting one indeed.

"Thanks for helping me, Liz, you're probably the only one who understands why this is so important to me," the blonde said, setting aside yet another skirt that just didn't quite fit the vibe she was trying to exude.

"Of course, Betty, I love hanging out with you," the soon-to-be senior said, furrowing her brow at a pink sweater she was holding, "And I really don't understand how I could be the only one. I mean, you're totally right that I am, but I don't get it. I mean, we all want to look professional and be taken seriously, and clothing is scientifically proven to affect mood."

Betty nodded, smiling at the sound of her friend going on one of her tangents again. To say Liz was an overachiever was an understatement, and while everyone greatly admired Liz's drive—though there was a bit more to it than drive, which did concern Betty a good portion of the time, if she was being honest—there weren't many who could genuinely say they understood her perspective.

Betty could. She knew what it was like to have a clear goal and to have to fight so hard to reach that goal. She had a leg up above Liz already, which she always needed to remind herself of when she complained about certain societal misgivings, but that didn't mean that she didn't struggle in her respective area and goals, and Liz was more than happy to validate her on that.

"They just don't see why it's such a big deal for me," Betty sighed, puffing out her cheeks as she tugged off the sweater she was wearing to put on a button-up.

"Well, they should, because if they really cared about you, they'd at least try," Liz said, turning as she put the skirt in front of her, deciding that she would need to try it on to be able to decide, "And you're all about to be juniors, this is a super important year, and you need to fill up your college applications."

Betty could only nod in agreement as she continued to try on clothes. She didn't always know what to say when it came to talking about college, as she knew that she would have to keep her grades up and do a lot to get herself into the schools that she wanted to get into; not to mention, she needed to stay in New York if she wanted to end up where she wanted to be.

"I just really don't want to be stuck on something dumb again this year, I want to do something important," Betty said, and she knew that every job was important, she knew, but that didn't mean everyone treated them that way.

"How does the selection process even work?" Liz asked, handing her two articles of clothing that would go together, "If it's in terms of name, you're pretty high up, and if it's seniority, you've been with the program before you were even allowed to."

"I know!" Betty cried, unable to contain her shrill shriek from filling the fitting rooms, because she couldn't be as composed as Liz, she just couldn't, "I just—it's so stupid, because everyone just calls dibs, and no matter how loud I talk or how quickly I shout, some stupid boy always gets there first."

Liz made a face, shaking her head. "Boys are the worst. That's why I don't date, it's a waste of time because most people our age range aren't mature enough to be able to effectively communicate and hold a solid relationship. Most people, there are exceptions, but they're already committed."

Betty opted not to ask her about any of her female prospects, because while she was more than happy to talk about it, Liz hadn't mentioned it, and the girl hadn't felt all too comfortable to talk about her preferences in public, especially school, and Betty wasn't about to put her in that position, even in the comfort of the dressing rooms.

So she simply puffed out her cheeks, blowing out air. "You're lucky, though. You could have anyone you wanted, and that includes superheroes. I'm stuck with Jason Ionello asking me out every single day."

Liz giggled, laughing louder when Betty made a swipe at her with the hangar, the taller girl holding her hands out in defense as she continued to laugh, and Betty couldn't help but laugh despite herself, because as terrible as it was to be put in that position, it was rather hilarious to think back on all the ways Jason embarrassed himself to try and win her affections.

"Sally should just ask him out and put me out of my misery," Betty groaned, tilting her head back to stare at the ceiling, which only reminded her of something else, "Oh! Wait, did I show you the video compilation that Auggie made of Jason?"

Liz's eyes widened as she shook her head, moving to stand next to her, watching as Betty pulled up the video that had been emailed to her a week after school ended, filmed and edited by August Feliciano, another student who worked on the school news show with her.

August and Betty were steady acquaintances. They were proximity friends, in a sense, the two great friends when it came in relation to the school announcements, and they could be found walking alongside each other in the halls or seeking the other out in and out of periods to talk, but they weren't necessarily the kind of friends to hang out or mingle between friend groups. Betty had her own set of friends and August had his friend, and that was more than fine for the both of them.

Speaking of August, while the girls watched the video that he had sent, continuing to try on clothes, the boy himself was sitting in front of his computer monitor, moving his spin chair slightly as he typed away on his phone, bare feet stuck against the hardwood floor, the summer heat making socks unbearable, even with his air conditioning.

On his computer screens—he had invested all his birthday and Christmas money on the multiple screen system and his other technology which were all majorly discounted—were a variety of digital media. On one played the YouTube channel of a true crime-ghost hunting duo based in New York, their channel having gained widespread attention since beginning a couple years prior. On another were tabs of articles regarding certain strange cases that littered New York, which he liked to look at in his spare time. On the third was a script he was writing, but he didn't want to think about it at the moment as he couldn't help but gag at the writing of himself a year earlier.

While his computer screens were all displaying things of reasonable value, August's attention was taken entirely by what was on his phone. Or, rather, what wasn't on his phone.

"He better not be ignoring me," the young man grumbled to himself, as he was wont to filling the silence of his room by either intrusive statements that were concerning in content but held absolutely no weight in reality, or conversations with himself that were concerning to others but not to himself.

Pushing himself off his chair, he flopped onto his bed, jarred by the lack of bounce that his new mattress gave him, still getting used to the fact that the mattress he had had for so long was no longer with him, as the back pains weren't worth the nostalgic memories. But while it did bring him to reality, he was once again engrossed in switching between his empty messages feed and his various social media accounts.

Despite going to a science-tech school, August didn't necessarily flourish amongst the intellectually elite, opting out of participating in academic decathlon or robotics or any of the other extracurriculars that would look great on college applications. He was more inclined towards cinematography, digital photography, and journalism, though he didn't necessarily partake in all those clubs, as he liked to have time to waste amongst the piles of homework he had to lug home every day.

It was because of his lack of foot traffic amongst the school that he only had one solid friend. He had many proximity friends, but there was only one friend he had that he had sleepovers with, texted regularly, and wasted nearly all his time with.

It was that same friend who hadn't spoken to him in three days.

He knew he was alive, as he saw him go active on Snapchat to send streaks, showing his face and a general room which let August know that he was physically alright for the most part, but he hadn't been responding to anything he had been sent, which was utterly infuriating.

Jacques—Jaq to everyone—was more sociable than August was, and everyone had asked August what had happened because they too were being given the proverbial cold shoulder, which hadn't done much to calm August's panic and suspicions, one more hour away from making a conspiracy theory board to try and understand what was happening.

Figuring that the conspiracy board would be a valuable, or at least fun, use of his time, he set his alarm for exactly an hour and moved to raise the volume on the show he was watching, settling back on his bed as he was far too comfortable to go back to sitting on his chair. While he did continuously check his phone for notifications, jumping whenever he received a notification, only to find it not from his friend, he essentially lost track of time, becoming engrossed in the show and relaxing as much as he could.

But then his alarm went off and, without any response from Jaq, he was jumping to his feet and grabbing the cork board from his closet, grumbling the entire time as he cleared an area of his floor specifically for his newfound project.

"I swear to God, he better be dead or else I'm gonna lose my mind," August mumbled to himself, grabbing a spare notebook and writing down all the possible reasons as to why Jaq was effectively ignoring everyone in his life.

He went through any and all possibilities that he could—as previously stated, there are a countless number of them—but paused after nine to check his phone to see if Jaq had been active on social media in the hour that he had failed to check.

Surely enough, he had posted a video on his Snapchat story, which was hard to decipher, but August was nothing if not obsessive, and he launched himself onto his bed, lying down on his back before propping himself up on his arms, continuously watching the five second video that was shaky at best, showing Jaq's smiling face for a moment before dropping to a nondescript building, the camera shaking and blurring it beyond any chance of recognition, the sound of another person's laughter intermingling with his. On top of the entire video was a timestamp of twenty-three minutes prior.

August frowned, raising his head as he set his phone aside, confused. Jaq was spending time with someone, which wasn't too much of a stretch to think about, he was more sociable than August himself was, but all the people that regularly socialized with Jaq had all messaged him, asking why the young man hadn't been responding to messages.

So he was socializing with someone, just not anyone that August knew.

The young man jumped back down onto his cork board, unsure of how to start laying everything out, but quickly wrote down his newest theory; that Jaq was on a date. He couldn't help but frown at the thought, an uneasy sensation coursing through his body; if Jaq was going on a date, he would have told someone, especially August. But it was plausible.

So while August tried to make sense of the Snapchat story, continuing on with his date theory amongst others, a boy that would become rather important to not only August, but Betty Brant was on a date of his own.

Mason Mitty, a boy unacquainted to either of the other two teenagers and a year younger than both, rocked back on his heels as he waited for his date to grab her coffee, the boy trying not to take up too much space in the crowded Starbucks. Of course, being a football player, it was rather hard, but he tried his best, not wanting to make anyone too uncomfortable.

While he waited, he toyed with the idea of texting his brother who was at a coffee shop of his own, spending time with his friends. But Mason was on a date and Matthew was probably working, so the football player simply pocketed his phone and adjusted the cap he had stolen from his brother for that exact date.

His date, in fact, was one Quinn Salsbury, a girl he went to school with and had been set up by a gang of both his friends and hers. She was the kind of girl that he wouldn't normally associate with, not because of any personal biases of his own, but simply because they didn't necessarily run in the same circles. She had a small group of friends, but a good deal of acquaintances, and preferred to keep to her small group of friends, though she was willing to try new things when it came to social situations.

Mason had seen her around, the two sharing some classes together, and she was a smart girl, though he did have to admit through gritted teeth that she was ignorant to certain things; but he remained optimistic in the hope that she would educate herself soon enough, as was the case for most people.

But back to the date itself. The two were keeping it casual, simply walking around and talking before Quinn had to go to her volunteer work at the library. They were now getting coffee, planning on walking towards the library where they would part ways.

"Okay, let's go," Quinn said, and Mason smiled, taking her hand, the two making their way out, passing couples along as they did, and he felt happy being able to be outside with someone; he was always a people kind of person.

The two fell into a comfortable silence for some time, simply sipping their drinks, and they looked on at the people they passed, which was something neither of them really made a habit of until now, but when there was nothing else to do, it became a habit.

They passed by a couple who seemed to be in college, an African-American man laughing at something his blonde girlfriend said, the two holding hands, the young woman beaming up at him. Mason couldn't help but smile as well, because the man's laughter was contagious, and the woman had a smile that demanded the smiles of others, and Mason had been told he had a pretty smile.

Quinn looked upon the couple as well, not with judgement, no, but she did have commentary pertaining to herself. Commentary that Mason wished he didn't hear. "I could never date black guys."

Mason blinked furiously, unsure of whether he heard her correctly. "What?"

She shrugged, but quickly moved to explain herself. "I'm just not into black guys. Like, it's not a racist thing, I love black people, I think they're great, but I'm not into black guys, they're just not attractive to me."

Mason didn't know how to respond. He opened his mouth, trying to find a way to explain to her why that wasn't an okay thing to say, to explain to her why that was racist, but that was the unfortunate situation that many young people were faced with; words and concepts could not be accurately conveyed nor conversed about when they had yet to learn about those concepts and words to begin with. Mason wasn't even a sophomore in high school yet, he had no idea how to explain the nuances of race, yet he knew there was an issue, and it pained him to stay silent.

So all he said was, "Yeah, I hear you," because he didn't want to agree, and he wasn't, but he wasn't about to pick a fight where he didn't have the tools to defend himself.

He tried not to let it affect him, but that was the way actions worked, and he could only hope that she didn't say anything else; education was necessary in all people, and it wasn't to say that Quinn would adhere to that mindset her whole life, she just wasn't aware of social nuances, which had been made clear to him many times in class.

No one was born with all the knowledge, and there was a level of patience and support that needed to be offered in order to help people understand, rather than drive them away; he read that in an article once for school, and he liked to think that person knew what they were talking about.

Unfortunately for Mason, things only seemed to get worse, the two of them stopping in front of the library. Their conversation had moved on to more comfortable topics, and he was happy to talk to her about movies and classes and the regular things most teenagers talked about when they didn't want to dive into the nuances and realities of society.

But it was almost time for her to go, so Mason decided to address the date in its entirety. "I had fun today. You up for another?"

She gave him a tight smile, and Mason's stomach dropped. He was no stranger to rejection, and had often gone on first dates that stayed as first dates, though he had always been told that he was a lovely boy with a personality as lovely as his face, but that it just wouldn't work out, and while it hurt—underneath the thick skin of a football player laid a rather emotional boy—he wasn't about to get angry at someone for sharing their feelings with him and telling him the truth; the truth hurt, so did life.

But what she said next made his blood boil; not for himself, but for his brother. "Mason, you're a great guy, but I just—I can't date someone who's bi."

Time seemed to stop and the whole world went silent. The only sound was the blood roaring in his ears and the ghost of his brother crying because of how unsupportive everyone was when he finally had the courage to come out.

"What did you just say?"

Quinn held up her hands, waving them slightly, shaking her head. "Look, I have nothing against bi people, okay, I'm not homophobic or whatever, I have a friend who's bi and she had a crush on me and I'm still—whatever, that doesn't matter I just personally can't date someone who's bi."

Mason regretted the words as soon as they came tumbling out because he didn't want to sound defensive, he didn't want to make it sound like he was averse to the thought of it himself, but they came out and they were there. "I'm not bi, though."

He wanted to ask her why. He wanted to demand a reason as to why she couldn't date someone simply because of their sexuality, what possible reason she had to give as to why she said it as if it was a ridiculous notion that she could ever date someone who had interest in their same gender alongside one different from their own.

But that would have spurred on countless possibilities all to itself, and the reality he lived in gave him its own set of possibilities, because he hadn't asked why, but simply told her that he didn't belong to that group.

The face she made was enough to have him storming off, but he wasn't about to leave without an answer. It was the face of someone who didn't believe a word he said, and wanted to make it very clear that he wasn't going to be taken seriously.

"Your brother is," was all she said, and she said it with the same contempt that filled the halls in the weeks following the news, a dismissive discomfort and pity that had no place in the context that it was being placed with.

Mason took a step forward, and he didn't want to scare her, but he wasn't about to back down to anyone who looked down on his brother. "Yeah. He is. And?"

Quinn didn't even have a response. She was intimidated, but more than that, she was defensive. "Jeez, calm down, I just don't want to date you, get over it."

"I will get over it," Mason snapped, and he knew his face was red because he couldn't stand this, not at all, "Because there's nothing to get over. I don't want to waste my time with someone who doesn't want to date a guy just because his skin is dark or he likes other dudes, and I especially don't want to waste my time being around someone who doesn't respect my brother. I don't need to get over you, Quinn. You need to get over yourself."

With a deep breath and a sigh, Mason started on his way home, trying to cool the pounding in his head as he pulled out his phone, texting all his friends, and Quinn's friends as well, telling them exactly what happened and what they need to get out to the entire school. As he waited for their responses, he focused on getting home, his stomach churning in anger.

With that, the three blips were finished, their circumstances and possibilities completed, continuing on with their lives or continuing on their experiences in new ways, traversing through life the way all others did, going through the motions actively and passively, riding along the various paths that would lead them all to a very specific location to experience a very specific possibility.

One possibility in an endless sea.

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄

( 02.19.19 )

I loved the narration of this. I don't know how I felt about the top part, because I was just sinking into it, but I adore how I wrote the narrator because it was from such a pulled away perspective that there were clouds covering the parts that weren't zooming into the various buildings, if that makes sense. I just loved how I transitioned by having a common theme to transition with, I'm very happy.

Also, Quinn is based around my friend and the concept of casual racism and homophobia. Because she doesn't perceive her prejudices as being bigoted or prejudices at all, simply preferences, but they're rooted in prejudices and a bigoted mindset, which isn't good. It's nuanced, but it's a problem.

Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed!