XI – There are things that Money cannot buy. So bring some Bitcoins… (Part 2)

- / Glitch - /

The school bells rang, announcing that another painful day of classes ended.

Edward walked out of his classroom as if someone had ironed his backs. “If they don’t have the money to pay a teacher, why do they have classes to show us an internet video?” he asked himself, walking to his locker. “I just don’t understand why…” He rambled with a hand on his exhausted spine.

Elizabeth, still trapped inside his head, rose her voice, “Why are they looking at you like that?”

“Who?” replied the boy, raising his frown and noticing that people glanced at him everywhere he went.

A student gossiped, “they are saying Eddy is that guy who was hanging out with Macro on the cover? There is no way. He’d have grown some inches…”

A teacher replied, “Didn’t Eddy destroy an entire toilet last week? I mean,” he pointed at the purple-eyed man stamping the front cover of a newspaper, ”they have a lot in common. It’s uncanny”—the man as he noticed that the boy got closer—“act normal, act normal!”

Edward walked crestfallen and suspicious. He noticed that the students struggled to do not stare at him. “What in the world is going on?” he asked Elizabeth, feeling as if there were a gravitational pull around him that attracted jokes and rumors. “Are they still going on about the ruined toilet?”

“I don’t think so. They are walking around with a school newspaper this time.”

“But this school has no newspaper. I thought they stopped making it after the massacre. There is no way they have started printing it again. The old prints were stolen”—he kicked a newspaper on the ground and saw the face of Thief King stamping the cover—“wait, what? This can’t be!” he said, yanking the document from the ground, incredulous. “When did they photograph us?”

Elizabeth chortled as if joy erupted from her insides. Her laughter was so loud that she deafened the boy. “Look at Macro’s picture!” she said.

“Macro?” asked Edward as he frowned upon a picture of Macro sitting down on fetal position and sucking his thumb. There was a puddle by his side. The punk looked as if he had wet the ground, as the image had no color. “Oh no, he’s gonna—”

Macro grabbed the boy by his shirt and rose him off his feet. “—kill you,” he completed.

“I-I know it’s hard to believe, but I had nothing to do with that!” bargained Edward. “I’m as confused as you are!”

“You take me for a moron, don’t you, dude?”

Brad, who watched the scene alongside his jock friends, laughed. “Nice job, Macro! Want some money for new pants?” he teased the punk. The jock’s friends burst off laughing.

Macro snorted, “*$&%%# you, dude—”

A bucket fell on his head.

“Mr. Ross and Mr. Williams,” began a woman in a penitentiary officer attire, “where are your uniforms? It’s time to start your shift!”

“What shift, Ms. Pershing?” faltered Edward, facing the woman.

Elizabeth spoke in his head, “Toothpick, remember the deal that Adela got for you? Clean toilets and the school might not sue your mom for the destruction that the Sprites did.”

“Wait, so Macro is on that deal too?” asked Edward, glancing at the punk as he rose from the ground. The bucket had left a mark on Macro’s forehead. “What did you do?” asked the boy, facing his new co-worker.

Ms. Pershing rose her voice, “he did something horrible. Even worse than yours. Now hurry up and get dressed, you two.”

Elizabeth pondered, “Don’t complain, Toothpick. This could be a good opportunity to investigate that newspaper. This could be the exposure that the blackmailer threatened us with.”

Hours later, Edward saw himself lying on the floor like a rugged carpet. The rake had left a red mark on his hand. “You sure this was a good idea, Elizabeth?” he asked her, trying to lift himself off the ground. “I can’t feel my hands—”

The sound of Ms. Pershing’s boots echoed across the hallway.

Edward rose from the ground as fast as if he raced a thunder, “I was not complaining, Ms. Pershing!” he said. “The ground is looking spectacular.”

The woman frowned on the result of his moping. “I’m not impressed,” she remarked. “But your shift is over for today. Pack up and go home.”

“What a relief,” replied the boy, standing up and shoving the grime off his uniform.

Karina, the girl who loves baseball, approached them. She had an exhausted look on her face. “Mom, are you done yet?” she asked Ms. Pershing, rubbing the eyes.

Edward recoiled. “Wait, she”—he pointed at Ms. Pershing—“is your mom, Karina? I’m so sorry—”

“You’re what?” protested the woman, swinging her ferule at him.

“Nothing!” replied Edward.

Karina stared at him, bothered. “I don’t wanna talk to you, Eddy,” she said, still bitter about him not showing up to play baseball with her.

The boy bargained, “I’m so sorry for what happened last week, I swear—”

The girl did not waste a word on him. Karina turned around and left the school alongside Ms. Pershing.

“You should play with her sometimes. Would certainly make you feel like a better friend and less like you are swinging a noodle when you do the ISG. I just doubt that she’d want to play with you.”

Edward stared as Karina and her mother as they walked through the exit door. The boy mumbled, “Karina has to wait for her mom to be done with work every day. It must be horrible for her. I wish I could give them a ride home. It’s not a good idea for two women to walk around at night. If only I had a car,” he said, walking to his locker.

“Why don’t you say that to them, Toothpick? Try using those exact same words and see what happens..”

“I feel like you’re being sarcastic.”

“Am I?” she mocked him. “Now let’s ignore this matter and go check the printing room—”

Edward kicked his rusty locker to unlock the lock—his usual routine. Yet this time a newspaper slipped off the insides and fell on his feet. “Wait, who left this?” he asked himself, yanking the papers from the ground.

A message written with a green marker stamped the front page, “The leaks will keep coming. Don’t be stupid. Judy Park, Hughes Road 222.”

Edward clenched his fist. “Damn it, what do you think they have on us?” he asked Elizabeth.

“Still nothing than pictures that only suggest, not state,” she replied. “At least I now know it was a girl who wrote this by the calligraphy, likely around your age. For a moment, I considered something worse could be on our tail.”

“I should go investigate the printing room. Maybe there is a clue there—”

The sound of a kick echoed through the school’s empty hallways. “What was that?” asked Edward, pursuing the origin of the sound. He peeked on a wall and saw Macro slamming the door of the printing room with his feet.

“Why won’t it open,” snorted the punk, hitting the door with his shoulders. “Why can’t it—”

Edward walked by his side and turned the knob of the printing room. The door opened without ceremony as if it invited them in.

Elizabeth concluded, “See? It’s imperative in life that we only break what is strictly necessary.”

Edward faced Macro, repeating what he heard, “It is imperative in life that we only break what is necessary.”

“Did you come up with that on your own, Toothpick?”

The punk rolled his eyes and put his hands in his pockets, blushing. He entered the room and frowned upon the printing equipment. The machines still had their price tags on. “Yeah, it wasn’t you who spread all that $&%* around the school,” concluded Macro, snatching a copy of the newspaper from the floor. “You wouldn’t spend that type of money to make fun of me.”

“It’s just physical press, Macro. People will forget about that joke soon.”

“They won’t. It’s all over the web, dude. Every damn Photogram profile has that picture of me supposedly wetting my pants.”

“It’s strange,” remarked Edward, scratching his chin. “The school gets a donation and we don’t hear about it? They left the door unlocked.”

“Those &$*%($ must be planning to take the machines home.”

“Or perhaps the person who was using this room also goes home late,” said Edward, glaring at an open window. The cold wind of the night blew the room’s curtains. “Whoever printed those images must be planning to do it again. I think we should stay quiet and—”

Macro slammed a printer with a hammer.

Edward recoiled. “What are you doing, Macro?” he asked, holding the punk by the arms.

“Dude, it was not you who was &$¨%& wetting yourself in a picture, alright?”

“I know, but that doesn’t mean you gotta act like this. We can still figure things out…”

Both boys discussed what should be the printers. Unbeknownst to them, a hidden camera filmed the discussion.

“Breaking school property again,” remarked Sammy, watching the scene through a tablet. “A spirit of chaos really inhabits you, Edward Williams. Yet after I threaten you with the images from this video, you will be tamed. The school won’t resist pressing charges.”

The girl rose from the grass. She printed the image of the destroyed printer and stored the photo in the new envelope that she planned to blackmail Edward with. “The destiny keeps me one step ahead. I knew you’d not resist going into the room,” she said, walking away and praising her own intelligence.

She did not notice that a shady vehicle watched her from afar.

“This is the school where the picture of the purple-haired man was taken?” asked a member of Cubs. He blew the smoke from a cigar, sitting quietly on the passenger seat of the strange car.

“Yeah,” replied the driver. He looked back and faced GEO, who sat with his legs crossed on the back seat. “Hearing anything suspicious, Glitcher?”

GEO rose his frown. “Not every element of reality is made equal,” he rambled, “some are more fallible than others, and are prone to be used to break the laws of nature.”

The driver chortled. “What are you on about—”

The Glitcher rose his sunglasses just enough for the man to see the color of his irises.

“—argh! Don’t eat me!” bemoaned the driver, screaming as if he had fallen in the middle of a herd of ferocious hyenas. “No! I beg you! No!”

GEO finished his speech. “That teenage girl”—he faced Sammy as she left the school—“ she is in possession of a glitched item.”

The smoking Cub on the passenger seat watched as his partner agonized.

“Y-Y-You think Thief Queen gave that to her?” asked the smoking Cub on the passenger seat, struggling to ignore his agonizing partner.

“We shall find out now,” replied GEO, unlocking the vehicle’s doors.

Tables for the Table Gods:

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