Screams ran through the rooms air. Bouncing off every wall, desk and ear.
The sensory overload would send anyone too weak to it into a fit.
Or maybe even encourage other crazies to join its symphony.
What a nightmare.
Saluim's eyes danced through the room. Class was ending. And so was school.
Laughing and chattering climbed over the lecturer's lazy attempts to deliver that last lesson, it was something about the importance of taxes and superannuation's.
The kind of stuff no youth was going to listen to.
Especially when the classroom was filled with young adults. Puberty made itself apparent amidst them all, the guys—at its peak. And the girls—just passing it. Both equally as naive and innocent yet desiring all the more.
It was places like this where whispers laid their eggs. Sprouts of rumors of drama and twisted truths slipped between the cracks in between the lines. Evolving to meet the setting. Contorting to reveal a truth that likely doesn't belong.
This effect was multiplied tenfold by the urges to leave. And the wishes to stay. Class was coming to an end.
The volume of the room grew louder, and the teacher now sitting down, disappointed that his lesson fell through so fleetingly. No one had listened to a word he said, and now they would live without this information, that he believed—was precious, especially to those taking their first steps into the world.
Not even Saluim had listened. His eyes were mostly drawn to the sound of early goers through the windows. Laughing and joking. Some jumping as high as they could to hit the metal foundations of the pathways roofing.
This school was a bit different from traditional ones.
Its buildings were only connected by smooth stone paths, tin roofing shading them from the blistering suns assault. Each building was one story only, consisting of four rooms that could all connect together if the cleverly installed walls were folded in.
Certain blocks had set purposes. Others had none at all and were used for general subject studies.
Some buildings were an exception from the one-story rule. But they were special. Housing science and technology study subjects.
Like Computer Science where they learnt of programming and the internet of things. They learnt how computers were made, and what parts created certain effects. They learned of the importance of CPU's and how they were made.
Or Film and Photography, where they practiced unique techniques with pictures and videos. Creating films and movies, or stunning photos that evoked emotion and thought.
The Robotics class had a short but fun natured teacher that offered knowledge of building computers. They'd play with breadboards, soldering irons, tiny computers and chips.
Design Study, which gave students insight on 3D printing and laser cutting. Sometimes exploring to 2D vector art or trying to understand building structure using professional software.
There was a marine science and aquatic studies classes, they learnt of the oceans, their laws, their history. They learnt to snorkel, dive, boat and fish as well.
Saluim always looked at the school like a military camp of sorts. It had lots of great things to offer, and eccentric characters that would jester through its trials like it was a joke. But it also had hard lessons to learn and concepts to grasp, the kind that would punish him if he didn't grip onto them hard enough.
The sun he saw through the glass barriers was, metaphorically speaking, melting the world around. The rocks wailed, sweating in its wake.
Through the windows he heard the tin roofing breathing. The sound of metal expanding with the heat, then contracting when a cloud offered it some cover—it was almost eerily alive.
Looking down on the floor, textbooks covered the bleak beige carpets with brighter, yet just as lifeless, dull colours.
A few desks to the side, his friend Mitchel, a redhead eccentric, had dropped his pencil case, littering the already now patchwork-like carpets with shiny sharpeners, pencils, pens, highlighters and the weirdly collected pencil shavings.
The clown had been holding onto pencil shavings that were especially long. If they satisfied him while he sharpened his pencil, he kept them.
By now abandon had filled the room. The students were brewing a theatrical chaos, and the teacher had slung himself into his expensive spinning chair, eyes locked onto his phone that had been reflecting off his glasses.
Rising from his seat, he leaned and crawled between evenly, yet thinly spaced desks, joining his friend in picking up the mess, hopes of getting a chat carried with him.
"Yo Sal," Mitchel's shot up in recognition of Saluim's oversized skater shoes, the kind of shoes you'd see on a cartoon character, or really annoying but kind of relatable anime character, "you bring anything for the leavers thing?"
Saluim didn't answer right away. Through the glass slip in the classroom's wooden door, he saw his younger brother, ripping the lid off of a tupperware container, offering the cookies inside to the girls with a stupid smile drawn across his face. He had always been a randy little devil.
Their mother wasn't a huge fan of sharing, she always said 'you feed ants, you get ants.' She was fair but perseverative. It wasn't often they were able to indulge in all things great.
"I dunno..."
Saluim wasn't a party or people's person. He liked to indulge in arts beyond what the school could offer in full glory. He liked music. He liked creating it. He liked listening to it. And he felt like so many other people couldn't—or rather wouldn't—share that with him.
"You never do man," offering an inviting smile, Mitchel rested his hand on Saluims shoulder, "just make it this one time dude."
His grip tightened on Saluims shoulder, but it was controlled and warm. It was comforting. Which came as a surprise.
Mitchel was a rowdy kid who raised eyebrows and always brought attention to himself, whenever he needed or wanted it. His scruffy red hair was his jester's crown, and his muscles, although not immediately noticeable, were built like steel threads woven together. He built them through enjoying cricket and rugby.
Despite that sporty, scruffy nature, he was a loving brother to his twin sister, and a fiend for history, specifically, war. So, needless to say, he was a well-read individual, and quick to read the room, adapting to it with unnerving ease.
Kind of a lady's dream boy if you think about it. Sporty, smart and caring.
What was there to not like about the dude? Of course, he was going to blend in well at any Schoolies party. A royal contrast to his gloomy friend.
Saluim didn't try to be gloomy, in fact, he was usually chatty and bouncing off walls with humour. The difference between him and the faces that really stood out, was control. Saluim didn't force it onto people, or use it to be interrupting.
It was his habits and looks that created that illusion. He wore dark, oversized hoodies, branded with his favorite artists. His shoes were the skater kind, revealing his poor fashion taste and lack of care to hold up appearances for others.
His hair was dressed in mazes of curls. Betraying the rest of his family's almost regal-like straight hair, the kind that flows beautifully smooth in rivers of black, like a parallel to time itself.
He was an oddball. A fuzzy one to boot.
"It'll be the last time you ever have to. Trust, here's the plan: you turn up, munch on some good tucker, say your goodbyes, and disappear."
Mitchel's face was painted with something resembling a mix of pity and empathy. Like he had been in the same spot once before, "Never need to do it again after."
His words holding some truth, almost made Saluim change his mind. But reality was, he would have to do it again.
In his last few years of school, he had worked at a games shop where they sold all kinds of gadgets for geeks and nerds. His kind of place, really. But they had held get-togethers for special events or holidays that, although optional, felt almost mandatory to attend for everyone.
"Maybe," He shut his eyes, chuckling at the idea of giving in to the perversely persuasive antics of Mitchel, "I'll think about it on my way out."
Today felt loud. Colorful. Weighted. In a kind of overstimulating way.
And as if to join its performance, the school's loudspeaker buzzed for a moment.
Followed with it, a powerful voice with a lot to say.
What it said brought panic and chaos.
The voice said—