The Geek Revolution ✓

25 | club

CARSONVILLE HIGH SCHOOL'S BOOK CLUB has the displeasure of calling their headquarters one of the oldest and shabbiest rooms in the school. The smell that washes over me as I step in is rank, vaguely like a neglected attic.

Riley Salesi, a petite doll of a girl, with golden-caramel glasses, golden-caramel skin and a smile that defies the tiredness in her eyes, introduces herself, as I myself. She's the President. I know I've never appeared intimidating at first sight to anyone, but Riley looks like such a timid person that even a harmless stranger might make her wary.

"Welcome to Book C-club, Sophie." The stutter in her voice does not slip past me, though it might just be a facet of her personality rather than a sign of fright.

I smile at her in thanks, and really look around the room for the first time. Four chairs are set up in a circle in the middle of the room, all occupied, now that Riley has taken her seat again. Pushed against one wall is a large steel bookshelf that bends at some places with the weight of the books stacked on it.

There are stacks of chairs to one side, probably for all the people who used to be in Book Club before the Monarchy ruined it. The room looks so empty and bare of life, like it should be a tomb instead of a meeting place for students.

Unmistakable traces of water damage litter the room, from the tan stains on the ceiling to the crinkling posters on the wall, the words on which have long since been smeared by moisture and dried again. Black mold is starting to spot some corners of the room, and out of four fluorescent light panels, one is operational, though just barely, flickering sporadically.

My heart thumps painfully at the idea of them using this room for so long, that dust and disrepair have become the norm. I hate it when people who've done nothing wrong are forced to accept less than they deserve.

I don't think I have hated the Monarchy as much as I do right now.

The corner of my lip twitches up, with both disgust and pity. Four students. Is that even enough to form a club? My eyes circle back to the book club members, softening when they meet equally curious gazes. Maybe it's the aura of acceptance that radiates from Riley and her friends, but I feel at home with fellow bookworms like myself.

Like I could tell them any problem in the world and they would give me the best combination of comfort and practical advice.

A boy with shaggy black hair, skimming his eyelashes, says to me with nothing but utter concern, "You do know that this Book Club, right? You're not lost or anything, are you?"

"No, I'm meant to be here."

"Are you here to join?"

"No, but maybe later," I say. "I wanted to talk to you about the Monarchy—"

"—tell Brittany that we didn't do anything! She can't make us move again," Riley suddenly shouts. Jumping out of her chair, making it jolt backwards with a screech, she heads over to me with pure anger blazing in her eyes.

"What?" I take a hasty step back, "I'm not here for Brittany. I'm here for you guys."

Everyone looks at me with disbelief and caution. Of course, they don't trust me. Anything that holds a semblance of the Monarchy has the ability to turn an entire room of people against someone.

They analyse me, when finally their postures relax noticeably and a more amiable tone settles over us all.

"Well, I'm Isaac. I'm a freshman," says the shaggy-haired boy with a proud sideways smile.

"I'm Zoe. I'm a sophomore." Zoe, a girl with cocoa skin and a cutting jawline, waves to me.

Another boy with fiery ochre hair and freckles is slumping darkly in his seat; he simply mutters, "Phoenix."