Gen chap 1 and 2 draft 2 + part of chap 3

Sixteenth birthdays are cursed.

I've read enough of those old paperbacks to know so. What's so special about the number sixteen anyway? Nearly every single teen book I've read either starts or ends with some kid on their sixteenth birthday. Sci-fi, fantasy, or slice-of-life. They hit sixteen and suddenly every single special thing in the world decides to congregate right in the protagonist's path, smacking them in the face one-by-one like some sort of tennis ball machine.

So what about sixteenth birthdays? Well, it just so happened that mine was a week ago. I've been pretty paranoid since, always looking out for something to happen. Like a vat of toxic sludge fallling on me giving me the ability to stop time. Or The Tree having some prophecy about me scrawled all over the walls or hidden in some code. Or some other scavenger dropping to his knees and confessing his love to me.

None of that's happened yet, and thank god for that. Lots of people my age are daydreamers thinking they have the power to change the world and lead some rebellion to victory, smashing down the walls and reclaiming The Tree for the Outer City. They always get involved in other people's business and risk their lives for something doomed to fail. In the end, they all die as they lived—stupid and reckless.

Me, I've got my niche, my routine. And speaking of my routine, I should probably get up now.

I opened my eyes and looked around the room. When life's a sack of crap, you hold on to whatever security and familiarity you can get. My security and familiarity came from my room. I've used it for my whole life. I can barely remember when the walls were still a bright green. There was a time when the curtains were drawn and fresh air and sunlight streamed through the window, illuminating the place with an angelic glow. The smell of my dad's cooking wafting in from the kitchen. It felt weird to think there was ever a time like that.

I sat up and stretched for a bit. Mattress or not, sleeping on the floor does a number on your back. The mattress springs creaked loudly, giving away my status. A voice called from the kitchen. "Finally up, Genesis?"

Cherie Ekundayo. I've known her for a decade and she still manages to be a total pain in the ass. Then again, what best friends aren't? I said, "What do you mean 'Finally up'? I always get up five minutes after the morning bell."

She giggled. "I'm just trying to joke around. You take everything so seriously!" I heard a clink from downstairs. "Well? Gonna get up soon?"

"Yeah, yeah," I groaned.

I got up and stepped off the old mattress. The green of the walls had long faded to grey. Cracks and cobwebs covered the corners. I made a mental note to try cleaning up before Cherie or I swallow a spider in our sleep. I made sure the curtains were drawn and the windows were closed. The air was still a little smoky from the last attack on the walls. Unfortunately, that made the air inside musty and stuffy. Everything smelled like old food and medical supplies.

I headed to the door, but I stopped in front of the old, rusted mirror. It's pretty hard to pull off a good intimidating glare if you've got dried drool on your face and gunk in your eyes. My actual, physical appearance? Couldn't care less. Not like I can afford the effort to stay "pretty" in this life. I've kept my long brown hair unkempt, my worn, dark chocolate skin untouched, and a tired, angry expression on my face at all times. Dressing up is even less of an opportunity. All I ever wear is a faded hoodie and old jeans hanging on my skinny noodle of a body. I was around for the times when it was still possible to look nice, but a shitty world can get even shittier in a surprisingly short time. I tied up my hair into a low ponytail and walked out the door.

I tiptoed down the wooden stairs carefully. Once, Cherie stepped on a termite-bitten step and she slid and fell all the way to the bottom. After laughing my ass off, I helped her up then set out to find good enough material to repair the step. The best I found in the dumps, though, were old cardboard boxes. "I hope some Outer City snob tosses away a perfectly good bundle of wood soon," I said.

Cherie called back, "I seriously doubt that, Gen."

"Cherie, if I could find an intact gas can in the dumps, I can find a pile of wood."

I reached the bottom unharmed and headed for the kitchen. Drab and rundown as always too. Long gone were the scents of meat and potatoes, replaced by the smell of rubbing alcohol and grease. Cherie was bending down, searching through the bottom drawer of an old cabinet. I sat down at the old granite counter and traced a scratch on the surface. I said, "Hey, remember when I tried to chop vegetables for the first time?"

Cherie stood up with a small bottle in her hand. "You were pretty aggressive with that knife. Your dad had to wrench it out of your hands to make you stop." She put the bottle down on the counter and smiled. "You nearly ran the knife through his hands."

I shrugged. "Hey, that's how the guy in the cooking show did it. If you wanna blame anyone, blame him."

Cherie picked up an old med kit and inspected the contents. Okay, I did say that people didn't have the time to look nice anymore. Cherie's one of the exceptions. Somehow, she always looks neat and alert. Oh, she keeps things simple too. Her brown hair's kept short, her milk chocolate skin's untouched, and her clothes are just like mine. But her eyes are open and alert, her figure's plumper, and she's even got a beauty mark under her left eye. Is that what makes her look less like a poor, starving orphan than me?

Cherie noticed me staring and asked, "Something up?"

I blinked and shrugged. "Just wondering how you do that every day."

Cherie filled the bottle with some medical substance. "Do what?"

"The whole thing where you work as a medic every day but still look fresh and peppy. What's your secret?"

"Breakfast, exercise and optimism. Y'know, stuff you don't do."

"I bathe. Does that help?"

"Isn't there a sentence in one of your books that says something about beauty and optimism?"

"You mean 'If you think pure thoughts, they will shine out of your face like sunbeams and you will always look lovely?' Or something like that?"

"Yep. A little joy once in a while can do wonders."

I got off my seat. "Hard to feel joy in a place like this."

She smirked. "Why are you asking, by the way? I thought you didn't care about appearances."

"I-I don't. I'm just curious." I grabbed my haul sack.

"Oh, Gen. Stuff like that really doesn't matter! You're beautiful as you--"

I cut her off with my hand. "As I said. I don't care."

"It's alright to feel a little self-con--"

"I do not give. A single crap."

Cherie sighed. "Alright."

"Don't make any breakfast for me. I'm heading out."

"As usual." Cherie frowned and put her hands on her hips like a judgmental mother. "Can't you just eat two meals a day like normal people do instead of just one snack like a crazy person?"

"There're hardly any scavengers around in the morning, which means I get an advantage by getting to the good stuff before anyone else does."

Cherie smiled. "Why're you smiling?" I asked.

"Oh, it's just the word 'scavengers'. It's a cool word and all but it's just a fancy name for trash looters, isn't it?"

I scowled. "Is that what 'The Flare' calls us? Hypocrites."

Cherie closed the med kit. "Are you still on about the resistance?"

"Yeah, I'm on. 'Cause it's a stupid idea." I shouldered the haul sack. "I can't believe you ever joined them. You know that every resistance failed and every one of them died out, right? We literally saw one of them fail with our own eyes just a week ago!"

Cherie closed her eyes and sighed. "Gen, I'm not just going to sit by and watch all of us suffer. I'm one of the only medics left in this town, and I'm not going to waste my skills by never using them." She looked at me. "I don't want what your parents did to go to waste."

I looked down. Dammit, she caught me there. "But my parents stuck to being the town doctors. They didn't join any rebel groups because they were smart enough to know they'd fail."

Cherie sighed. "You're hopeless, Gen." She smiled. "But don't worry too much. They're keeping me out of the battlefield. I'm just going to stay at the base and treat people in the medical tent."

"That's good to hear, I guess." I shifted. "Maybe...maybe you should go live at the base instead. We wouldn't have this argument every day if you did."

I turned to leave but Cherie came up to me and gave me a hug, I made no motion to hug her back. "I can't do that. You're practically family. And if I left, who'd be here to stick with you?"

"The TV?"

She giggled. "Oh, c'mon."

We stood for a while til I said, "Alright, that's enough. Getting real sappy in here. Get off."

Cherie laughed as she let go. Then she looked sympathetic.

"Is it one of those days?"

I nodded. "It's one of those days."

"Man, I hate those days."

"I hate 'em too." I looked at the clock. "Crap, it's seven-thirty!" I ran for the door. "See ya!"

"Bye!"

...

This place never changes.

For example, the giant billboard morning broadcasts of town history. I call it "The Exposition Board". It reminds me a lot of long, droning expositon dumps in some of the books I've read. The Expo Boards are just fantastic, considering they're one of the only pieces of high tech the government decided to give the Outer City.

I opened the gate to the apartment where we lived and trudged down the road. Usually, I'd see some kids playing tag or kicking around a rubber ball, and some greasers out for a smoke. Today, though, the road was empty. Looks like the wall smoke made sure nobody wanted to go outside for a couple weeks. Lucky me. That means a lot less scavenging competition.

The Expo Board started up its usual speech. The government's logo An earnest announcer's voice boomed across the empty town. "Welcome to the glorious country of Eden! Eighty years ago, a world war ravaged the whole planet. Countries were destroyed and homes demolished. After ten years, the war subsided, leading the survivors to migrate to safer areas, which led to the creation of the country you live in today: the country of Eden!"

God, can that guy's voice get even more annoying? Glorious country, my ass. I mouthed along with the rest of it.

"To adequately distribute supplies to all areas of the country, an ancient temple was upgraded and repurposed to serve as the supply distributor. It was christened The Tree."

I noticed some kid looking at me, probably some other scavenger. He looked at the billboard, then rolled his eyes and smiled, as if he was trying to say "Real stupid, right?" I walked faster.

"But suddenly, conflict within the government split the country into two. There was now the Inner City and the Outer City. The Outer City's job is to provide the people with supplies and services such as agriculture, medicine, textiles, and many more. The Inner City's job is to provide the people with protection, water, electricity, and technology."

The last words were fading away in the distance, meaning I was near. I didn't need to hear any more of that crap anyway. It was so painfully inaccurate I might almost laugh. I walked up to the gate of the dumps. The dumps are just huge piles of garbage from the Inner City dumped into the Outer City from the walls. Lucky for us, a lot of them throw away perfectly good stuff, probably while holding their nose high and loudly declaring their item not up to standard to an empty room.

I scanned the area. Not many scavengers around. Perfect. The dumps are massive, and the area they cover is vast. Despite all the good stuff I find often, most of it is just straight up trash. I used to gag and vomit back when i first started, but now I can pick through moldy food, rusty cans, and even really nasty stuff like roadkill and feminine hygiene products with ease. The best places to search are the newest dumps, since they're most likely to have functional gadgets and edible food.

I searched through a nice, new pile and found a nice, clean box of microwaveable apple puffs. I said to myself, "Now who the hell would throw away these?"

"A crazy person, that's who."

I nearly jumped. I turned to see who answered and saw the same kid who tried to relate to me. I sized him up. He was a short, pale, skinny boy with bright blue eyes, shielded by clunky glasses, and messy blond hair who looked around my age. He was wearing a jacket three sizes too big and had this rehearsed smile plastered on his face. He waved at me. "Hey. I've seen you around a lot."

Some super-friendly lightweight. I scowled. "I've seen you around too. Don't talk to me again." I shielded my haul sack. When I started out, a girl talked to me all sweet and friendly, and once I let my guard down, she stole it and got away. I'm not letting that happen again.

He seemed to notice what I did. He raised his arms. "Don't worry, I'm not gonna steal your bag."

"That's something someone who would steal my sack would say."

He put down his hands. "Okay, true. I'm Chase."

"Hi, Chase. Leave me alone."

"What's your name?"

"None of your business."

"How's the haul?"

"Go away."

He sighed and went back to his own scavenging. "Just trying to make small talk. Y'know, the best way to survive is to stick in a group. Thought you could need someone to help out."

"Are you trying to help me out or are you trying to get me to help you out?"

"...Yeah. But--"

"Best to ask someone else."

"Do you have any friends?"

I coughed. "One. That's enough for me."

"Can I be your friend?"

"Fuck no."

He muttered, "Mean."

We searched in our respective piles for a while, but he kept popping up with questions like, "i found some roadkill. Hey, have you ever eaten roadkill?" or "Have you ever been to the oldest dump?" or "You talk to yourself a lot, you know?"

Eventually, I couldn't stand it so I left for the other side of the dump. The dump was pretty large, so it was far enough from that faux-friendly blabbermouth. His question about the oldest dump stuck in my mind, though. It was the oldest dump, so there was less chance of a good haul from it, but rebels have been searching it forever, looking for clues or machines from the Inner City to use.

I'd never admit it out loud, but I feel pretty selfish about Cherie's situation. I mean, Cherie's doing a good thing, being a medic and helping other people, and here I am demanding that she stick with me. I got flashbacks to the first time I heard she joined. I nearly punched her. I even raised my fist at her. Then I threatened to kick her out of the house. Then I called her stupid and selfish for joining. And that was just one fight. All the others came rushing back all at once. God, why am I such an asshole to her?

Stop it, I told myself. You pick to forget, remember? You're just bringing yourself down again. Idiot.

"Something the matter?" It was that blond Chase guy again. "You look a little tense."

"None of your business."

"Looked like you were thinking about something. What is it? Plans? Picking? Or," he tilted his head down, "the past?"

I dropped a can at the last one. "Please, for the love of god, go the fuck away."

"I see." He tented his fingers. "I think I've got you pinned now. Are you one of those people who likes picking to forget?"

I stood up. "I'm out." I decided to head to the old pile and find something for the rebellion, to make up for how I acted to Cherie. Not that it makes up for everything, but it's better than nothing.

He called after me, "Heading for the ancient pile? Are you part of the new rebellion?"

My face screwed in indignation. "How dare you."

"I guess that's a no."

I walked away quickly. Nosy creep.

I picked all the way to the noon bell. I still couldn't find anything that could be of value. I sighed. The other rebels probably picked it clean already. No use looking again. I shouldered my haul sack but before I left, I spotted a flash of brilliant green in the garbage.

"Hel-lo," I said. I pushed the garbage around it aside and picked it up. It was some sort of spherical device, and it looked in good condition. Whatever it was, it could be vital to the rebellion. I put it in my sack and headed for the newer piles. The Chase boy wasn't around anymore, to my relief. I scavenged a bit more til the night bell. Time to head home.

I reached the door and pushed it open. I said, "I'm back," and tossed the sack on the couch.

Cherie walked over from the kitchen. "Gen, I have big news!"

I flopped onto the couch next to the sack. "Is it about the rebellion? Wait, scratch that. It's a guy, isn't it?"

"Yup! I met just the most exceptional and fantastic guy ever today!"

"Gee, can't wait to hear you talk about him for the rest of the night."

She closed her eyes and pat my shoulder. "Thank you for being such a great friend," she said in mock seriousness.

"I met a guy too. He was annoying, loud, and nosy."

Cherie nodded. "Yes, yes. But was he hot?"

I shrugged. "I dunno."

"Describe him."

"Blond, short, glasses, pale. Real skinny. Had a dumb grin on his face half the time. Jacket was too big for him. His name was, like, Carter or Chevy or something."

"Hmm..." Cherie looked deep in thought. "I'll keep him in mind."

"He kept pestering me, asking me if I had any friends and telling me people survived better in groups. He was so fake it hurt."

"Or maybe," Cherie said, "he's just being nice and you interpreted it as fakeness again?"

I looked down. "Hm." I did have a tendency to do that. But something about him still rubbed me the wrong way.

"Nevermind that." I took the apple puff box out of the sack. "I found some apple puffs. Fresh, unopened box. Your favorite."

"And that is why we are best friends." She took the box eagerly. "What else?"

I took everything else out until finally, the only thing left was the orb. "Cherie, look, I'm sorry about being such a jerk earlier--"

She playfully digged at my arm. "Water under the bridge!"

I blinked. "Right. So there's this weird sphere thing from the ancient dump..."

I took it out. Despite its age, the orb still shined a brilliant jade that filled the room with its light. Cherie's eyes went wide. "Wha—how—"

I raised my eyebrows. "Why? Did I find something important?"

Cherie grabbed my arm. "You need to see the rebels. Right now."

...

"Wait, what? By right now, do you mean right now?"

"Seriously. Right now." The night was cold and owls hooted from their perches. Everything cast long shadows that faded into the darkness. Cherie was practically dragging me by the arm, taking me to wherever "The Flare's" secret hideout was. I was utterly confused, but I held onto the orb like my life depended on it. It was still shining brightly, which was both good and bad. Good because it meant we could see the street. Bad because it meant the street could see us.

"Not sure you should be taking me to your secret hideout when I have a huge, apparently world-changing beacon in my hands." I tried to pull her arm off. "I'm serious. We could get mugged. How about tomorrow morning? Is anyone even still at the hideout right now?"

Cherie stopped. "Well, no. The leader is, though. But we can show it to him!"

I held up my hand. "Cherie, look, I know you're passionate and all but I don't think this is the time for your passion and optimism. This is the time for some good old common sense, and common sense dictates that nobody is there for this world-breaking news and whatever old man runs this resistance is probably trying to have a good night's sleep like the geezer he is."

Cherie clamped her hand over my mouth. "Common sense also dictates that you don't talk about the resistance out in the open."

I pulled her hand off. "Then let's go back home and wait for tomorrow. Okay?"

She sighed. "Fine. But tomorrow, you're coming with me to the hideout."

"Alright. Not like I'll be missing much from the next day's dump anyway."

We headed back to the apartment gate. I sensed someone watching us from afar, but when I looked, nobody was there.

I shut the gate with a loud bang. Hopefully it would jolt whoever was stalking us.

I followed Cherie up the stairs and into our floor. Cherie locked the door, turned to me and asked, "What was that for?"

"Nothing, just a warning sign."

She waved her arms frantically. "Now you've alerted people to our location!"

I raised an eyebrow. "Yeah. Our house. Y'know, where we always are at night?"

"You could've also woken the neighbors up!"

"But I thought no one else was living in the apartment building except us right now."

Cherie clapped her hand to her forehead. "I meant the neighbors next door to the building, Gen."

"Look, can we drop it and just go to sleep? Considering your big reaction, I assume whatever's gonna happen tomorrow will need a lot of energy."

"Yeah, you're right." She stretched. "All that andrenaline got me beat. I'm gonna clock out easy tonight."

"Lucky you."