#WIPWednesday (A.K.A. So... when are you updating that book?)
For those who are reading "On The Boardwalk", this is a small excerpt from the next chapter. For those who aren't... what are you waiting for?
Chapter 7
We followed Zeke around from one end of the park to the other. Squeezing in between the crowds of students all going about their business, I felt a burdening weight in the pit of my stomach, like if someone was pressing their fist against it.
Also, all the voices going off in my brain were giving me a headache. There was all type of them, at various tones and volumes. Angry voices, concerned voices, voices that shouted, voices that were barely more than a whisper. There were voices that broke off and others that were freaking out. I was picturing a windowless room with a dozen little Connors all collectively losing their minds. If I didn't know better, I would say that I had multiple personality disorder.
I couldn't get the video out of my head. I couldn't shake the thought that the Worst was no longer contained to those who were present when it happened. Now it had gained longevity. It didn't dissipate with the hours. It was here, in the present, playing over and over in the infinity of the Internet. Nowadays, something happening online gets a life of its own. It is almost tangible. Almost real enough to breathe, and move, and reproduce. It had taken the form of the fist that was pressing against my stomach and digging its knuckles into my flesh. And the fist was connected to an arm, and that arm was connected to a torso which on its own turn was connected to a head. A head with eyes, mean eyes, and a mouth from which Gil's scratchy voice came out and added to the voices already on my head. He was telling me over and over that this was the life I was going to live. That this was it for me. That nothing would get any better now.
"You're here for my amusement," he said. "That's your purpose. That's what you are, Connor. A punching bag."
The other Connor's were trying to fight it. They shouted, yelled and bickered, but their words were feeble against Gil's.
His voice would always drown out mine.
We reached an esplanade and lost sight of Zeke for a second. He blended into the crowd, forcing us to look for him by the vivid red of his hair.
It was the first time I noticed the comically large screen in the far back of the park.
Held by two metal columns, the jumbotron alternated between playing an array of advertisements and music videos that did not match the songs playing on the speakers. The screen was larger than that of a baseball stadium. I had no idea how in the hell I had missed it. I guess you miss a whole damn lot when you're looking at your feet all the time.
I felt Arthur tug at my shirt. He had spotted Zeke in the distance, standing by an unattended popcorn stand, and turning his head in all directions.
"Where the hell are you taking us?" I asked. Zeke was rubbing his chin, picking at a zit under his lip that was just about ready to burst. I discreetly backed away from the splash zone.
"We need to find Nathan," he said.
"Who?"
"Shelly."
"Oh."
Behind us, the waves splashed against the wooden columns that held Amaizo Boardwalk over sea level. We were right by the railings that faced the ocean, the only thing standing between us and about a fifty feet drop.
"What do we need him for?" I asked. He wasn't exactly my favorite person at the moment. I was still pretty bitter about that guy robbing me out of thirty bucks.
"Because back there, when I stood up to Gil, I felt the best I had in a long time. Maybe ever," he said.
Arthur let out a snort and whispered to me from the corner of his mouth. "He's lost it."
More to come soon.
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