S3, E4 | Speaking the Quiet Part Out Loud

> Thursday, 18th November 2038 <

Pressing her back into the side of the bathroom stall, Coleen lifts her chin toward the ceiling whilst pressing her eyelids shut. Slowly and evenly-spaced, the teenage girl’s breaths steady as she tries to lull herself into a much calmer headspace. Hanging by each of her sides, the blonde student fights off the tension that prompts the tendons in her hands to tighten and the muscles in her stomach to burn.

“Fucking asshole” the girl murmurs beneath her breath, shaking her head whilst balling her hands into fists, gently punching at the stall’s side as she maintains enough composure to keep from exploding into a ball of rage. For a few further seconds, the young woman goes still as she pulls in her largest breath of the day, filling her lungs with air for as long as they’ll allow themselves to expand before letting it free, thrusting a gust of air through her clenched teeth.

Within moments, the visibly frustrated young woman’s fingers spin the cycle-like lock that had kept any other student from entering the same stall, allowing her to push the door outward and re-enter the larger bathroom. Though she comes to a stop, the hanging accessories of the bracelet on her right forearm continue to jingle as Coleen pauses, immediately finding a familiar face awaiting her with arms crossed to match, the visage neither drawing pleasure or discouragement.

“Go hill hike, retard” the bully dismissively groans, paying the special needs student little care other than the roll of her eyes, advancing for the trio of sinks that line the front of the room. Biting into the corner of her bottom lip, Liv watches her blonde tormentor set her focus upon the centre-most mirror and lean close, fixing loose strands of hair whilst making an effort to mind her own business, refusing to acknowledge the student she’d spent years to this point bullying.

“Don’t hit Derby again” Liv remarks, taking advantage of the silence that fills the room and the lack of a third presence to speak, her words instantly catching the ear they’re meant for. With a strange gaze, Coleen turns her face toward her adversary, aware that she stands in front of the exit she’d need to pass through in order to leave, but thinking very little of it. “Excuse me?” the nested-up blonde teen replies, staring at her foe with a squint.

“You heard exactly what I said- I’m not going to bother repeating myself” Liv retorts, uncrossing her arms whilst stepping forward, closing the distance between herself and an increasingly-surprised Coleen. “Derby’s covered in bruises and I know exactly which three people are responsible for them” the bizarrely-coherent young woman states with awe-inspiring confidence, “if she ever winds up with just one bruise again, I will make your life a living hell.”

Aware of the threat that’s been posed, Coleen’s prior aggravations resume their initial hold upon her, taking the form of her hands as they lift into the air and shove her adversary back. Feeling her body jolt with the momentum that had been sent toward her direction, Liv smirks at the weak efforts that befall her before swinging her fist at the bully’s face, immediately knocking her to the ground with unmatched ease.

Hitting the floor bottom-first, Coleen immediately shakes off the initial pain of the strike by placing her hands against the ground, pushing herself backward until her retreat-like crawl is thwarted by the concrete wall. “What the fuck!?” the bully exclaims whilst trying to create separation between herself and the girl she’d believed to be special needs, though that assumption now feels impossible to make, “get away from me you fucking psycho!”

Nostrils flaring, Liv looks down at the young woman as she takes two steps forward, growing closer to the frightened bully, though staying distant enough to allow the attacked woman a chance to look up at her. “I’ve given you one warning and it’s the only one that you’re going to get” the assailant explains, holding her hands upward in a show of surrender, “all I wanted to make sure of was that you got the warning... Leave my friend alone.”

As quickly as they’d gone up in a display of surrender, Liv’s hands return to her sides as her body spins around, redirecting itself toward the door it now quickly steps through. As if having entered a strange dimension she’s yet to fully comprehend her presence in, Coleen looks around the room whilst grimacing in pain, finally feeling the effects of the strike as the awe wears off, leaving her to make sense of the attack she’d just sustained, and who it’d come from.

= Generation Alpha is created by Zachary Serra, all rights to the series belong to Zachary Serra and his entity of Pacer1 from the start of Season 1 onwards =

> Tuesday, 23rd November 2038 <

Wiping sweat from his brow whilst occupying the top-most step of a ladder, Andrew passes a glance at the familiar vehicle that comes to a rolling stop just outside the entrance to his shop. “What the hell is all of this!?” Mr. Webster calls out, carrying a folder of papers in one of his two outstretched hands. “The result of a population divided beyond common sense” the father of two replies, gesturing toward the variety of lude comments spray-painted along the building’s exterior.

“No, I mean this!” the defence attorney replies, waving his hand at the ladder his client stands atop, knowing the sight of a bucket and sponge in the store owner’s hand to indicate, “you couldn’t hire someone to clean this mess up for you!?” Shaking his head with a disheartened frown, Andrew scoffs at the claim before dipping his sponge back into the soapy bucket, preparing to take it to a set of red letters that spell ‘racist’- one of the more pleasant terms that adorn his building.

“If there’s any example I want to set for my family, it’s that I can handle things that need to be done myself” Andrew responds, splattering sud-filled waters along the building’s exterior before applying pressure to it. “I was going to close the store for renovations anyway. Cleaning the graffiti at least gives me a reason to do so for a prolonged period of time” the father admits, “since this whole ‘racist’ label thing won’t be going away anytime soon, that might not be a worry anymore.”

“Why not?” Mr. Webster questions aloud, stepping away from being close to the building as droplets of water fall toward the ground furiously, threatening to catch his expensive suit in the process. “What people are going to want to shop at a plant store owned by the local racist, Mr. Webster?” Andrew inquires, leaning one forearm against the top of the ladder as he wipes with the other, “this whole case will just end up with me going out of business.”

“Well, not if there isn’t a case!” Mr. Webster proclaims, watching the store’s owner look toward him before pointing to the folder in his out-stretched hand, “that’s what I was coming to talk to you about!” Confused, Andrew squints at the man before glancing at the plain note-carrier in his lawyer’s hand, unsure of what’s being gotten at. “What do you mean?” the besmirched store owner replies, discarding his sponge back into the water-filled bucket.

“Someone came forward with dashcam footage of what happened! They were parked in the lot next to that burger place that was next door to the supermarket!” the defence attorney proclaims with glee. “What!?” Andrew calls out, his eyes widening as he begins descending the rungs of the ladder that lead to the asphalt walkway around the side of his store.

“Apparently, they came forward the same day you got released from the slammer. I don’t know what’s been going on since then, but the cops must’ve been taking their sweet time at putting the pieces between his report and your report together!” Mr. Webster cheers, extending the folder of printed pictures toward the surprised father, who finds different screenshots of the altercation in its entirety- ironically in black and white.

With his lips slightly parted from each other, Andrew stares in awe at the visual proof that solidifies his claim, yet to present an over-the-moon attitude the way in which his attorney had anticipated. “You’re in the clear! His lawyer just dropped all charges and we’ve already got this thing being sent to the news!” Mr. Webster proceeds, seemingly more pleased with this outcome than his client is, “this is fantastic for you, what’s with the look of shock and awe!?”

In a slightly-stunned silence, the father appears to be at a loss for words as he squints toward the ground, returning the various photographs to the man who’d handed them to him. “I’m, uh... I’m not sure” Andrew confesses, using the pause to shift his reflection into his best attempt at happiness, trying to work his way toward the reaction his attorney wishes for him to give whilst dismissing anything less as his brain processing the news.

“This is fantastic news!” Andrew doubles down, finally beginning to wander his way toward the chipper and overjoyed mannerisms his acquaintance originally expected to see. “Yeah, there you go! You’re in the clear!” Mr. Webster reassures, seemingly convinced by the explanation that’s paid toward him, writing off the initial rejoinder as being caused by the suddenness of it all.

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“What’s this?” Coleen whispers to herself whilst pulling into her home’s driveway, staring at the back of a black SUV that occupies the spot her vehicle is usually meant to take. With the press of a button, the blonde girl turns off her car and steps out of the driver’s seat, a sugar-filled coffee carried in her hand as she approaches the front door to her home, attempting to enter just as she’d intended.

“You’re insane!” a masculine voice calls out from the kitchen, unaware of the ear that his voice catches in the far off sides of the home, his temper flaring just the same as the woman he speaks with. “I’m insane!?” a more feminine voice retorts, speaking as if she were intent on making her offence well-noticed, “I haven’t gotten a single child support payment from you for the last seven months! You haven’t shown your face around here for nine months!”

Keeping her presence under wraps, Coleen calmly walks toward the entrance to one corridor before remaining put, keeping her distance from the conversation whilst ensuring what’s said is within hearing range. “Child supp-!?” the male voice proclaims, stopping himself halfway through the remark with a gasp, almost amusing himself, “look around you, Susana! You live in a multi-million dollar home that you purchased with my money!”

Scoffing at the notion, Coleen’s mother rolls her eyes and smirks at the man’s comments, taking them as a personal insult more than anything else. “You got knocked up with my kid three months in, I married you because of it, and then you immediately turned around to divorce me!” the man doubles down, speaking over the various silence-filler and snide comments his former wife makes to discourage him, “why would I give child support to a woman whose entire livelihood is already paid for by me!?”

“The court told you how much you owed me every month! You know what happens when you don’t pay up!” Susana responds, watching her ex-husband’s head bow toward the ground amidst her pause. “Of course I know what happens when I don’t pay up, Susana. I haven’t seen my child in almost a year because you’ve weaponised her against me” the man rebukes, his tone having dropped to something more resembling sorrow.

“Weaponised” Susana laughs, poking fun at the claim the father of her child makes, “give me a break, Tyler.” Though their daughter cannot see it, her father’s eyes widen as his discontent only further deepens its hold over him. “You’ve forced me to lawyer up, pay for your lawyers, and make a case to the court that I’d like to be involved in my daughter’s life” Tyler explains, his hands pressed together and voice lowered to the calmest tone it can carry, “and still, you’ve refused me visitation.”

“If you won’t pay up, you clearly don’t value seeing your daughter that much” Susana responds, a comment that only further infuriates the man who her comments were meant for. “I-” Tyler attempts to reply, immediately falling silent before throwing his hands into the air, his back turning toward the home’s primary occupant as he shakes his head and walks off, “I’m getting nowhere with you.”

“Yeah, and you’re getting nowhere closer to seeing your daughter without opening up your wallet” Susana doubles down, following after the man as he walks away, refusing to let him escape her onslaught of insults on his way toward the front door. Keeping his composure intact whilst venturing toward the front door, Tyler weathers the comments his ex-wife makes whilst coupling his hands around his mouth, trying to forcefully prevent himself from speaking.

“I hope you’re not expecting to win in court, Tyler!” Susana continues to bark, following the man through the front door and out toward his car, “just pay up and you’ll see your daughter! Good luck convincing the judge that you’re fit to be a parent when you can’t even follow up on your commitment to pay for her!”

Without so much as a peep, the father to the woman’s only daughter climbs into the driver’s seat of his black SUV and quickly pulls out of the driveway, spilling out onto the street that he quickly uses to escape the situation. Able to hear the sound of burning rubber scraping against the asphalt through her open window, Coleen watches Tyler’s car speed off in the opposite direction as her.

Having hurried to her car and pulled out onto a second street, the subject of the parent’s argument watches her father’s bulky automobile disappear around the distant corner whilst her mother flips it off, returning for the front door to their home whilst muttering insults beneath her breath.

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From the start of one line to the end of it, Liv’s eyes traipse across the pages of the textbook that lays across the surface of her desk, taking in the information that the words come together to form. Feeling the weight of her eyelids grow, the teenager pulls her face away from the pages that take her focus and presses the base of her hands against them, trying to wipe the exhaustion that wishes to overwhelm her in the name of keeping a sturdier focus on her studies.

*knock, knock, knock*

Picking her head up at the sound of the gentle pattern of knuckle-taps, Liv’s face turns with the rest of her body in the spinning chair, centring themselves upon the door to her room, which remains closed for the moment being. “Come in” the girl mutters in a distant and automated tone, watching her door gently creep open and allow her a glimpse of the familiar face on its other end.

“Hi, I’m sorry to be a bother” Elaine remarks, stepping halfway through the entrance before stopping, not wanting to intrude any further than she already has, “are you busy right now?” Looking forward with a blank stare for a moment, Liv lets her bottom lip hang slightly apart from her upper one before replying. “Yes” the girl answers after a pause, hands draped over the sides of her chair as she lets the reply linger.

“Oh, alright- uh-” Elaine stammers, looking toward the ground with a slight disappointment, the emotion being one that she feels a responsibility to discourage herself from taking. “Just let me know when you’re free to talk for a minute or two, alright?” the woman follows up, bowing out of the conversation she’d started as quickly as it had been opened, not wanting to impede upon her step daughter’s duties to schoolwork.

“You look sad” Liv quips, inspecting the woman’s posture for the emotion that’s easy to read, watching her step mother’s face quickly try to dismiss the down-trodden visage it’d worn in favour of an empty smile. “Oh, no honey. No, I-” Elaine tries to reply, falling short of anything more than empty emphasis that succeeds a friendly refusal, her lack of more to add prompting her to try departing with a smile once more, “no, honey. I’m not.”

“It’s okay if you are” Liv replies, taking advantage of the social progress almost no one in the world knows of to point out the indicators that give her stepmother’s displeasure away. “I miss when you drove me to school. I miss how you and dad were before Sophie went away” she doubles down, watching the blank guise upon the grown woman’s face begin to melt away beneath the memory of pleasurable recollection, “I miss when we were friends.”

Though her heart takes great warmth in the young woman’s remarks, the last quip that her step daughter makes brings a slight dissatisfaction over the woman at the door. “Honey, we are friends” Elaine reassures, hiding her hope that the girl doesn’t feel that such a comment were untrue, “I know a lot has happened ever since then, but that doesn’t mean that we aren’t friends.”

Taking the woman’s comments to heart, Liv looks off into a corner of the room for a moment as she feigns processing, her efforts not spent on making sense of her stepmother’s comments, but of the ones she wishes to utter herself. “Then I haven’t been a very good friend” she concludes, yet to look back in the direction of the woman in her doorway, the comment spoken aloud with distance.

“It’s not that you haven’t been a good friend, dear. With your baby brother, with work, with each other- your father and I have just had a lot to do” Elaine responds, entering the rest of the way into the room. “We spent a lot more time together before everything happened with your sister. A part of growing up is that you have less time to spend with friends, that’s all” the girl’s former driver reassures, seeing her own way to the foot of the girl’s bed, which she takes a seat upon.

“That’s not a very good excuse” Liv responds, confessing such a statement in the same moment that her mother settles into the space at the end of her bed. “I’m sorry?” Elaine immediately questions, lowering her chin just slightly as she looks into the side of the girl’s face, the young woman’s eyes not budging from their place along a random spot of the floor.

“You’re my stepmother. We live in the same house. We have time for each other, but we don’t use it” Liv responds, taking very little time to process that reply compared to her others. “I shut you and dad out after Sophie went away. I just wanted to be left alone. Both of you have just let me have my space since then” the girl carries on, speaking freely whilst her stepmother listens on, “the two of you have had all the time in the world to spend with me. I just haven’t let you.”

With slightly-wider eyes than the ones she’d entered the room with, Elaine sits with the young girl’s comments for a moment before looking toward the ground herself, unsure of how to respond. “Well, honey... I-” she stammers, finding it difficult to come by responses that don’t contain parts that she discourages herself to bring up.

“It’s because I’m ‘special’, isn’t it?” Liv inquires, correctly using air quotes around the stand-out word that she looks toward the grown woman whilst saying. Initially looking at her stepdaughter with parted lips, Elaine’s eyes glue themselves to the younger woman as she stares in silence for a moment, mouth soon closing and head slowly beginning to nod apologetically, the best answer she can think to offer in that moment.

Slightly disheartened, Liv looks away from her mother’s face and toward the ground at first, her face eventually making its way toward the corner of the room once more. Thinking quietly to herself, the act-upholding teenager sits with the conclusion for a moment and lets it settle in, not yet knowing how to feel about the result of the conversation.

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‘We are closed until the start of December’ a white sign reads with black lettering, the collection of eight words presented toward the street-facing side of the small business’ storefront. Wiping his dirt-covered hands clean, Andrew steps away from the pair of doors and wanders into the back of it, retreating to the break room that he soon passes through in favour of exiting all together, stepping beyond the employee entrance and into an alleyway that connects to a small, side yard.

Opening the trunk of his sedan, the father of two and devoted husband retrieves a shovel from atop a large tarp, various other gardening tools a space off to its side. With ease, Andrew closes the trunk and turns in favour of the building’s side alley, the door to a gate already propped open with a cinderblock and allowing him unobstructed passage.

Having originally occupied the space earlier in the day by starting the process of wiping his store’s exterior clean of the graffiti that had been scattered amongst it, Andrew ventures toward the side lot for a very different reason now that the sun has fallen beneath the horizon. “You have a nice store, sir” a young voice calls out from behind the fence that had been installed around the right side of the premises in lieu of the damage that had been done to the building.

Looking up with surprise and widened eyes, Andrew’s face takes toward the direction of the feminine tone, spotting a blonde girl out with relative ease. For a moment, the man stands in silence as the visitor’s claim goes without a reply, left for interpretation without something in return for it. “Thank you” he finally responds, inspecting the girl’s posture without certainty over who she is, only able to read very little from her pocket-tucked hands and bright pink, puffy coat.

“Can I help you?” Andrew wonders aloud, her unthreatening posture affording him the opportunity to convince himself that her unannounced appearance may not conceal malicious intent. “Not really” the blonde girl replies, having yet to look at the store’s owner, and instead keeping her gaze focused on the assortment of plant life that lines the building’s central column inside.

“Why are you here then?” Andrew responds, having yet to move from the spot that he’d stopped in upon the voice’s arrival, hesitant to react in any way other than hesitant after the week he’d been assaulted with. “My mom and dad hate each other and I’m just a pawn in their game” the visiting teenager responds, her face separated by the chain link by little more than an inch’s length, “I’ve been driving around all day and passed by this place three times.”

“Well, I’m sorry to hear about your folks, but that still doesn’t answer why you’re here now” Andrew retorts, gently letting the head of his shovel rest against the softer-than-usual dirt, the cold climate that falls over the middle of Missouri slightly warmer than it usually is. “Your store was the only one with lights on when I came around the third time” the girl responds, turning to look in the father’s direction with a defeated grin, “the plants are nice to look at.”

Lifting his chin, Andrew looks into the teen girl’s face with as much confusion as he’d first encountered her with, unsure of what makes her stand out to him aside from the surprise that her presence presents. “Do I know you, little girl?” the man inquires with reservation, only to watch the stranger’s head bow toward the ground upon first reaction.

“I go to school with your daughter...” the girl replies, looking the man in his eyes as she pauses, holding back a slight irritation, “...the retarded one.” As if the word had launched a physical strike at him instead of an emotional one, Andrew lets the shovel’s handle fall from his hand as he steps forward, “what did you just say about my-?” he angrily questions, approaching the fence with a full head of steam before his progression is halted.

“She cornered me in the bathroom last week. She punched me in the face and told me to stay away from her friends” Coleen quips, her claims forcing the father to fall quiet for a moment. “I haven’t gone back to school since! I’ve got enough shit going on in my own family, I don’t need to deal with whatever’s wrong with yours!” the girl doubles down, stepping away from the barrier that the shop’s owner presses into, “so tell your daughter to keep her psycho hands off me!”

Calling out for the teenager’s return, Andrew ventures toward the second entrance that the gate holds, its door having been padlocked shut to prevent the public entry. Fitting his hand into his pocket, the shop’s operator reclaims the key and frees the door for himself to travel through, stepping out onto the sidewalk just as Coleen’s foot takes to her vehicle’s pedal, driving off into the night without another word.

“Don’t talk about my daughter like that ever!” Andrew howls, chasing after the vehicle until the moment that it burns rubber away from his reach, leaving him running into the centre of the empty road to watch the driver take off. Seething, the man kicks the ground in frustration and grunts as he punches the air, his aggravation having boiled over the edge and prevented from being acted upon by the girl’s departure.

With his hands on his hips, Andrew stares at the ground whilst the sound of a catchy jingle plays from the device on his wrist, buzzing with vibration as a call to the owner’s attention. “Answer call” the man grumbles aloud, conceding defeat to being left in the dust by the teenager’s vehicle as he stomps back to the store’s side lot.

“Hello?” the man inquires, speaking to the woman on the other end of his smart watch whilst returning toward his ground-penetrating shovel. “Andrew? It’s Elaine” the woman replies, her voice catching the ear of the man who angrily grasps the wooden handle of his tool. “Hey, honey. Listen, I’m still at the shop. I should’ve told you sooner that I was staying late, it just slipped my-” he attempts to explain, only to find himself thwarted by his wife’s interjection.

“Honey, listen...” Elaine remarks, her interruption both uncommon and attention-earning, stopping the remarks that her husband attempts to make whilst capturing his ear. “What’s up?” he asks with genuine curiosity, standing along the grass that he removes his shovel from, holding it in the middle of the air as he waits for the woman to continue.

“Well, I just got done talking to Liv a few minutes ago. We had a- well, interesting conversation” Elaine informs, the comment being one that prompts her husband to furrow his eyebrows. “Oh yeah?” Andrew replies, picking up the tool and hoisting it over his shoulder as he journeys through the alleyway-facing side of the gate, “what were you talking about?”

Retreating to his car, the father extends his foot to a sensor just below the vehicle’s bumper, its presence proving enough to trigger the trunk to open its door automatically. “Actually, that’s why I was calling you” Elaine replies, unable to watch her husband return his shovel to the automobile’s rear compartment and close its shell, “she said there’s something she wants to tell both of us together.”

== Generation Alpha ==