The Cost of Words (part 1)

Author’s Note:

This chapter is part of a rough draft of my novel The Cost of Words. I’m sharing it for feedback while I write and revise, with the intention of traditionally or independently publishing the final version. Comments and suggestions are welcome.

P.S. Characters, group names, and the title might be changed in the final published version.

Chapter 1

Macy

Words are precious in my world; you are nothing without them. Speak carelessly and you might face consequences. At least that's what our parents tell us when we are little, but what kind of consequences? Not being able to speak seems like a consequence to me. But what do I know? I'm only 16, not even an adult yet.

I walk to school, seeing the usual beggars on the street, nothing new. Life has, and always will, be like this. There will always be the poor and the rich. That's just the way the world works, we'd be in chaos otherwise, trust me I've heard the horror stories before.

“Hey Tom, how are you doing bud?" I ask as I slide beside my best friend, and the only poor kid I associate with.

He waves, “I’m good Macy” I notice he doesn't elaborate or ask me back, before remembering he has to use his words carefully. Even though we've been friends for years, I sometimes forget.

Walking next to him makes the usual people stare, like always. Not only is it unheard of for a rich and poor kid to be friends but also our stark differences, physically, shock people. My petite 5”6 frame and his large 6”2 frame make us so different. Not to mention my light skin and dark hair contrast his dark skin.

“I've been doing great Tom, lots of adventures lately…” I ramble on for a couple minutes as he quietly listens.

I like having someone that can put up with my constant yammering, even if it's because he can’t speak.

I glance up at his word count above his head and notice he has 1000 less words than yesterday. He must've had another argument with his parents last night. I know this is detrimental to his average of 150 words a day, he'll have to go mute for a while to make up for it. I feel bad standing next to him, knowing he knows I'm set to talk freely for life with my 10 million words left.

We make it to Mrs. Lorelai's class, English 2, before long. I notice the usual distinction, poor sitting in the back, being silent and rich kids up front rambling on and on. I wave goodbye to Tom as he heads to the back of the class, it's unacceptable for the two of us to mix during class. I don't want Tom to be punished or lose more words that would break my heart, again.

My first heartbreak was when I was 14, it was over this girl, Debrah, she was charming and beautiful. I was so lucky to have her. We hung out everyday, cracking jokes and giggling. Who knew she'd break up with me a week after Valentine's Day. All cuz I was busy and couldn't respond for a little while. It was stupid and I still hold a grudge against her for it some days.

I get cut off from my stream of thoughts by Mrs. Loralai calling to get our attention, “Layla, when is our test” she asks a Soc.

“Why does it matter?” Layla snarkily replies.

“It’s fine Ms. Layla, just pay attention next time please”

I see Layla roll her eyes out of the corner of my eye and I can't help but admire her confidence. Then again, I admire most rich kids' confidence, it's incredible really.

The bell sharply rings and I go to pack up my stuff and find Tom. I notice girls whispering behind their hands and pointing at him, but I ignore them, hoping he doesn't see them. “Hey Tommmm” I say eagerly.

He waves back and I smile up at him, looking into his deep blue eyes. I know there's rumors of us dating, and since I'm bisexual, I won't lie, I have thought about it before. But there's no way on earth he would like basic old me. Plus it's unheard of for the two classes to mix.

I continue the rest of my day without Tom, we only have that one class together sadly. I see him in the hallways as I go to leave and yell his name to get his attention, sadly he doesn't hear me, but I wave in his direction anyways.

As I walk home the sounds of the city fill me. The skyscrapers and sounds of cars driving by relax me, I’m definitely a city girl. Not like there’s many small towns left anymore anyways, but I’ve heard of what they’re like. I spot a beggar on the side of the street. His clothes are torn and look ragged, and a quick glance at his words shows he has 40k left, not very many in retrospect. I feel bad for him but I've been taught to not interact with beggars, its practically social suicide.

“Pleaseee” he moans at me as I walk by, grabbing hold of my leg. I glance over at a nearby cop, hoping for help before the situation escalates. I make eye contact with him, his fierce brown eyes glinting as he strides his way over to us. Next thing I know the beggar has 10k less words and is screaming.

“That ought to teach you” the police officer laughs out.

Immediately I back away, not wanting to be associated with this poor man's torment and agony. I never saw someone lose more than a few hundred words, at least not firsthand. And it's alarming. Scary, even. I don't know what to think or do, should I have said something, stopped the cop even? Or should I have just run like I did, is this the right choice?