[FM] Sick of Circles (Tick)

Karina transferred from Salt Lake City to San Francisco at the start of her sophomore year, which was July, since school vacations had been abolished in those days. There were rumors circulating about the new girl, mostly crude jokes speculating on her religious background, but nothing out of the ordinary for high school students. Besides, she was too engrossed in the library’s extensive collection of fiction novels to be bothered by gossip.

Geometry became her favorite class, not because of the subject, but because she was assigned a seat in the back where she could secretly read whatever she wanted without being chastised by the teacher. Still, she passed the exams with ease, since she had already passed geometry before. Utah geometry credits didn’t transfer to California, even though the textbook was the same. She didn’t ask why. She had decided long ago that whenever something about the education system bothered her, she was better off screaming into a pillow at night than asking for an explanation.

Her second favorite class was Chinese, because of the subject. It fascinated her. That’s where she met Dorian, who became her boyfriend. He was taking it because he had already learned Chinese from his father, at least enough to pass the class without much effort.

She spent most of the class talking to Dorian. As long as they spoke in Chinese, they could avoid any complaints from the teacher. She learned faster this way than from reading the textbook, but she knew that if she really wanted to master it, she would have to find help outside of class, since it only took her a month to match Dorian’s vocabulary.

On Fridays Dorian would pick up Karina in a robo-taxi to get ice cream. On one such Friday, he was on his phone winning an important argument on the internet, when a girl, who was also texting on her phone, walked in front of the robo-taxi, stopping it dead in its tracks.

“Excuse me?” Dorian threw up his hands.

The girl made a twirling motion with her finger without looking away from her phone. The robo-taxi beeped but remained stuck. She finished sending her text, then walked away. “Clanker-rider.”

The robo-taxi pulled forward and Karina joined him inside.

“What’s her problem?” asked Dorian.

They watched the girl step into her mom’s vermillion European luxury car.

“That’s Salin,” said Karina. “She’s my friend. She’s helping me learn Chinese. I help her with geometry.”

“Bad vibes,” said Dorian.

“How would you know?” asked Karina.

“European car,” he said. “I’m not judging.”

“It sounded like judging.”

“I said she had bad vibes. I didn’t say having bad vibes was bad.”

“That doesn’t make sense.” She pulled a copy of “The Fellowship of the Ring” from her backpack and started reading.

“Oh! That reminds me, I got you a present.” Dorian reached into his backpack and pulled out another book. “For your birthday.”

“My birthday is the 21st of August.”

Dorian tilted his head.

“Yesterday.”

“Oh… Do you still want it?”

“What is it?”

“It’s called ‘The Fountainhead.’ ”

Karina shook her head.

“Did you already read it?”

“No, but I know about it. All the characters are ideological stand-ins made up to prove a point, nothing like real people. It might as well be a bunch of essays. You got me a book that you would like.”

“Do you-“

“No, I don’t want it.”

“Sorry,” said Dorian. “I wanted you to have a copy before it gets banned though. I guess I’m not too good at gifts.”

“I’m your girlfriend. Get good,” said Karina flatly. “I don’t want ice cream today.”

“Are you breaking up with me?”

“Not yet,” said Karina. “I want to visit my mom’s grave first.”

“Why did she leave ?” asked Karina. “And don’t bother trying to comfort me or make me feel better. You suck at it. Just tell me the reason, whatever it is.”

Dorian stared at the tombstone while Karina stared straight at the ground.

“I’ll tell you. But I have to use math to explain,” said Dorian.

“Okay,” said Karina.

“Do you know the square root of twenty-five?” asked Dorian.”

“Five,” said Karina.

“It’s plus/minus five,” said Dorian. “Negative five times itself also makes twenty-five.”

“Oh... Okay,” said Karina.

“How about the square root of negative twenty-five?” asked Dorian. “It’s not a trick question. They’ll ask you this in your fourth year.”

Karina thought long and hard before surrendering. “That doesn’t make sense.”

“It’s 5 i,” said Dorian

“It still doesn’t make sense.”

“Do you want to die yet?”

Karina laugh-cried in spite of herself. “That’s different.” She said. “What if she was here?”

“Okay, pretend she’s here. What’s three times seven?”

Karina rolled her eyes. “I already know three times seven.”

“But I’m still asking you,” said Dorian. “You still have to answer it.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Don’t you?”

Karina fell silent.

“How many more questions would it take?” asked Dorian. “If you thought they wouldn’t stop?”

“… like four,” said Karina.

Dorian nodded. “You and your mom are normal. People that are okay with themselves and the world are weird.”

“Call the robo-taxi.”

“What’s i squared?”

“I said ‘like.’ ”

Dorian ordered the robo-taxi.

“Why can’t I have her last name instead?” Karina asked.

“You could, someday, when you’re older. You just have to file some paperwork.”

“Okay. I’ll get older then,” said Karina definitively.

“Everyone gets older.”

“I’m choosing it.”

Dorian glanced at the ground. “I wish I didn’t have to.”

“Why not?” asked Karina. “You said Earth was a prison planet made to remind us that free will is a mistake.”

“It is, but I’m the prison guard, not the prisoner. It works for me.”

“Maybe we can figure something out. Someday.”

Dorian shook his head. “I don’t think we’ll have that technology in our lifetime.”

“Sure we will. You’ll just be the weird 40-year-old who got in late while everyone else on Earth is twenty-one forever. Try to take care of yourself until then.”

“Nah.”

“Minus one.”

“Huh? Oh. Nice!”

“Why is the robo-taxi taking so long?”

“There’s an intersection on the way over with a broken stoplight. It’s always empty, but the light always takes like twenty minutes to change. Everyone with a real car just drives through it, but the robo-taxis can’t. Everything sucks since the CIA killed Trump.”

“The robo-taxis are free though. How else would people get around if they can’t afford a car? And Mr. Franz says Trump was a would-be dictator.”

“Gerald is an idiot. He only chose to be a teacher because he’s lazy and stupid. That’s why he wastes everyone’s time ranting about politics in what was supposed to be a math class. Trump was just trying to keep the empire together in one piece. It wasn’t easy, and he was surrounded by socialist traitors.”

“You rant about politics at inappropriate places, too.”

“That’s different. I’m right.”

“You’re right, and alone.”

“So, now it’s over?”

“Yeah, it’s over.”

Karina visited Salin at her house to hang out and study that weekend.

“Could you show me how to write my name?” she asked. “In Chinese?”

“Sure. Let’s see…” Salin picked up the pen. She traced a few characters in the air to see what might fit. “Hey, I know what we can do! You have can have the same “Lin” character that my name has.

“That’d be cool.”

“Okay, so we’ll start with 卡. That’s just to match the ‘ka’ sound. Then 蔺. That’s ‘lin,” same as my name. Then 娜. 那 shows that it’s pronounced ‘na,’ and 女 on the left makes it a girl’s name. Ka-lin-na.

With one hand still holding the pen, Salin held out the red sheet of paper to Karina, who gently held the edges with both hands to avoid smudging the ink.

“卡蔺娜,” she read aloud. “Thank you, 萨蔺秦 (Salin Qin). I mean, 秦萨蔺 (Qin Salin).”

“You’ll get the hang of it,” said Salin.

“I hope so,” said Karina with an abashed smile.

“No,” said Salin, her eyes downcast. “You will.”

“Should we switch to geometry now?”

“Okay,” said Salin.

“I think I like Chinese better,” said Salin after a few practice problems.

“Yeah, me too,” said Karina.

“Teaching it to you, I mean,” said Salin. “Teaching it feels easier than using it for some reason. All my family says I sound too American. You make me feel like I’m good at it.”

“You are good at it,” said Karina.

“I’m not as good as I’m supposed to be. Like geometry. I should be better. I have to be better.”

“No one has to be good at geometry.”

“I do. I have to win.”

“Against what?”

“I don’t know,” said Salin. “Whatever comes up.”

Salin stared at a stain of black ink that had marked one of her white bed sheets while they were writing.

“Why do you read so much?” Salin asked.

“Just for fun,” said Karina.

“Can you teach me? How to have fun? The way you do it.”

“Hm… I can try. I always thought fun had to come from inside you.”

“I don’t know if I have an inside.”

“Everyone has an inside.”

Salin’s eyes were fixed on the ink. Karina threw a pillow at her.

“What was that for?”

“I’m A/B testing. It’s how I solve geometry problems when I haven’t studied. I just put in random numbers until it works.”

“Well, it’s not that.”

“I’ll keep trying.”

“Okay.” Salin gave her a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

“We could order pizza,” said Karina. “That can be fun.”

“I’m not hungry. How do you know what to read? Like, how do you choose which books?”

“I check reviews, then I just make a list of which ones I want to read and go through it.”

“A list?” Karina saw a glint of light in Salin's eyes. "Can I see it?”

Karina held her breath for a moment. “It’s kind of private.”

“It’s just to learn how you have fun. I want to see the process.”

“…Okay.”

“Did you have fun with your friend?” Salin’s mom asked, surveying the scattered paper, markers, brushes, and pens that littered the usually barren room.

“Yeah.”

“Your school isn’t cheap. I work overtime for you to get a good education for yourself. Not for you to play teacher to someone pretending to be your friend for freebies. Karina has more than enough privileges to get by without your help.”

“Pick up your shit.”

“Y-“

“You’ve had enough chitchat for one day. You already know how to talk. Fix your grades. Don’t be a failure.”

The door closed with a slam, and Salin dropped to her knees and began picking up the inky papers that scattered the floor. She considering hiding them somewhere, but they were already being ruined by the wetness of her tears.

“Swish.”

A shadow jumped onto her desk chair and swiveled around to face her.

Salin gripped the cat with both hands.

She rubbed her tears and snot on the cat. Her eyes reddened. She sneezed. She cried more. She sniffled more, so she kept rubbing harder until she couldn’t cry anymore.

She put the cat back on the chair and returned to cleaning her room, which meant throwing everything away everything that wasn’t useful, though a few useful things were caught up as collateral damage. She picked up the cat whenever she felt pain well up in her eyes, which occurred frequently, and the cleanup took a long time.

“You’re my only friend, kitty. You’re the only one that’s cared about me for as long as I can remember.”

“They said on the news that they’re making an anti-aging vaccine for pets.”

“Stay alive, kitty.”

“No, you’re not.”

“…”

“Don’t let the dogs win.”

Salin sat down next to the cat and opened her computer.

“A/B testing huh?”

She opened her bedroom camera, zoomed in on the list, and hit “print.”