The Spectrumverse

Issue #1

Outside, on the rooftop, Billy sat with his back to an air vent. Looking eastward, he saw much of Haverford’s industrial quarter.

On a good day, when the weather was good, he could just see the outskirts of town. Around midday was the best time when the view was the clearest.

Billy wasn’t having a good day. Gazing toward the distance, he tried to think of something else, anything besides the letter.  His shirt had gotten a little dirty from earlier, so he rolled up the sleeves all the way up to his elbows. It complimented his jeans. In his clenched fist was the very letter that caused all his grief. From the distance came a loud squeaking noise. The door leading up to the roof had been opened and someone had stepped out.

Billy turned his head to see who it was. By the doorway stood his childhood friend, a goofy sort, with a gormless look about him. He wore a brown woolly cap over his long, fuzzy golden-brown hair. He wore a black t-shirt with a silver peace-sign on it. Over that, he had a long coat on, almost like a trench coat, but somewhat lighter. On the back of his coat were countless patches. On the left sleeve is the symbol of the US Air Force.  

The young man in the long coat crossed the rooftop holding an old lock in his hand. Once he was close enough, he ruffled Billy’s short faded brown hair in amusement. He laughed; Billy simply pushed his hand away before patting his hair down. He vainly attempted to restore the parting in his fringe, lucky he was able to retain his right-sided parting.

“Damn it, Freddie! I hate it when you do that,” Billy said with annoyance. “You never complained before,” Freddie responded.

“Takes me ages to get my hair looking good.”

“Haven’t seen you this upset since Zoey Douglas moved to Connecticut.”

Billy couldn’t put it into words. The pain was still fresh in his mind. Instead, he simply slumped backward and propped himself against the side of the air vent. Freddie wanted to know more but didn’t want to push his friend. Looking out in the same direction, he tried to guess what it was from the view. All he could see was everything south of Haverford City Hall. All Freddie could see were several restaurants, two movie places, and one exceptionally large building.

Just in the distance, he saw an art deco-style exterior with an unreadable sign. Freddie remembered what it was and suddenly snapped his fingers in realization.

“Did you hear back from the museum?”

Billy simply sighed. Reaching into his shirt pocket, he took out an opened letter and handed it to Freddie. Unfolding the letter and reading the message, Freddie felt disappointment and sympathy for Billy.

“No luck? That sucks pal.”

Billy leaned forward and pressed his hands to his face. He moaned in anger, but it quickly subsided. “I really wanted that position. It was going to be my summer job, I had it all worked out.”

Freddie patted Billy on the shoulder; he wasn’t good in situations like this. Freddie handed the letter back to his friend.  “Don’t worry about it. I’m still going to join the Air Force, but I’m waiting for them to get back to me. I bet they get a lot of applications.’ Billy turned his head toward his friend and made a smoking gesture “Sure it has nothing to do with you smoking those massive joints?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Are you kidding me? Do you remember that party at Cindy Carter’s house? You hollowed out that baguette, poked holes it in, and then cut off one of the ends, and jammed about twenty joints in each hole and smoked all of them at once. You remember what they called you after that?”

“Yep. Freddie the dank-engine.”

The two broke out into sniggering laughter which descended to the level of adolescent and immature humour. Whatever disappointment Billy felt for the last few hours was quickly fading and both young men soon calmed down.

“Don’t worry about the museum, Billy. It Isn’t the end of the world or whatever.”

Billy crossed his arms as he thought back to his childhood, “Growing up, I practically lived there. Every weekend, I was there. Every new addition, I was the first to see it and when they announced they were hiring, I was the first to apply.”

“And it feels like a kick in the balls.”

“Exactly!” Freddie also began to reminisce. “You remember when we snuck into that baseball game. The one against the Hornets and the Yankees?”

“It was a good game until we got thrown out.”

Billy turned to the side and got back up to his feet. Placing both hands on the back of his head, the young man started pacing. His mind was racing. Unsure of how to precede, Billy simply tried thinking of alternatives.

With so many options, he wasn’t too sure which direction he could or should take. Everything he had worked toward had been in hope of attaining his first proper job and now it had been for nothing. Billy felt unsure about everything. Something he was not comfortable nor accustomed to at all. Even the view couldn’t distract him from the turmoil of his future.

With everything going on, Billy didn’t know what to do. Wondering what Freddie had planned for the summer, he decided to ask, if not reluctantly. “Hey Freddie, are you working this summer?” Getting back up and straightening his coat, Freddie crossed his arms. 

“I’m gonna be washing dishes down at Benda’s Diner. The one on the corner of Settler Square.” “For the whole summer?” Freddie nodded.

Billy wasn’t too impressed but wasn’t disappointed. Benda’s was a second-rate Wendy’s. It didn’t span the globe, so it didn’t have a lot of appeal. Although he now had a secured job, Billy was a little envious. The food wasn’t half bad, but he wasn’t sure if he wanted to follow his long-time friend down that route.

Yet another aspect could off-set his reluctance to apply. “How much is the pay?”

“About nine ninety an hour,” Freddie uncrossed his arms and slit his hands into his coat pockets “Not bad for a dishwasher.”

“Yes, but I got to do ten hours a day and four days a week. It’s only a summer job though, so I’m not too bothered. The guy who interviewed me said he used to serve in the Air Force.” “And when you told him you wanted to serve to…”’

“It swung me the job.” Freddie briefly glanced at the doorway that led onto the rooftop.

Curious as to how his friend managed to get through the locked door, he noticed something. In Billy’s left pocket of his pants, he could see the outline of a lock. Billy noticed his friend was looking at his waist. In efforts to satisfy Freddie’s curiosity, Billy reached into his pocket and took out a square padlock. Covered in rust, they could just make out the logo of some now-defunct security company across it.

Freddie was impressed, laughing at the ancient padlock and how decrepit it appeared. Billy threw it up in the air then caught it straight away. The laughter was contagious and steady. Billy gave in. He broke out into a fit of laughter. In this humorous moment, Billy’s grip loosened, and the padlock slipped from his hand and crashed to the ground. “When did you learn to pick a lock?’ Freddie asked as he stopped laughing.

Billy wiped away a single tear from the corner of his eye. “Mr. Kelly keeps a spare in the storeroom. Even without the key, it's flimsy as f**k. Besides, the lock was made in the seventies. Think Ford was president then.”

Freddie’s mind recalled the name from some of his lessons. Snapping his fingers, he tried to remember “Ford, right, I’m not a crook.” Billy’s amusement evaporated and left behind a residue of disbelief. Furrowing his brow, he couldn’t comprehend such a lack of information.

“Nixon. It was Nixon who said that” Billy couldn’t believe how Freddie could be so uninformed. Billy pushed Freddie’s shoulder in a humorous manner. Freddie found it amusing.

Brushing off the playful shove, he straightened his jacket. This humorous moment of friendly antics was gradually fading as the two returned to their calm and normal personas. Other memories flooded back. Billy looked around at the roof of their high school, on another of the air vents.

In faded blue paint were the words, “Freddie was here” above the bolts that kept the unit in place. Billy nodded toward the writing. Freddie caught on and turned his gaze. Spotting the worn-down writing, Freddie thought back to the very day he wrote it down.

“That must be about seven years old by now.” Billy nodded in agreement

“First time we ever came up here. It was also the first time I saw you pick a lock. You were a good teacher.” A gentle breeze blew in from the east.

Both Billy and Freddie felt the cold wind, it only lasted for a few moments. Freddie felt the brief chill and tried to close his coat. This did little to bring warmth to his person. Billy could see the discomfort in his friend.  “Maybe we should go clear out our lockers,” Billy said patting Freddie on the shoulder.  Freddie was delighted. Not at clearing out their lockers but getting away from the draft was reward enough.

Billy quickly knelt and picked up the padlock. Heading back to the main door, Freddie followed behind. Billy stood to one side, allowing Freddie to go through before him. Once his friend had vacated the rooftop, Billy closed the door and locked it behind him. He carefully slid the top latch through the large bolt, closed the lock, and let it naturally hang from the bolt, ensuring it looked exactly how it did before. Freddie nudged Billy. He turned toward his friend and saw Freddie signalling to get a move on. The two raced down the narrow stairwell all the way to the bottom where they were stopped at a weathered door.

Quickly twisting the brass handle, Billy let Freddie out first and then he went out, closing the door behind him. The two emerged in the storeroom.

A collection of mops dangled on the wall atop different buckets. Opposite the mops were shelves filled with cleaning solutions. The two wasted no time in their escape.  Pushing through the door to the storeroom, the two excitedly went to the corridor on the second floor. At the other end of the corridor, students were going about their business.

No one noticed Billy and Freddie walk out of the janitor’s storeroom. As the two merged into the crowd, they both let out a sigh of relief. Heading toward the main stairwell, the two casually stride down to the first floor. The layout of the first floor was a basic corridor. On both sides were rows of lockers with bright red doors.

Down this corridor were many people, young men, and women. Dozens of social groups were clustered together in different places down the corridor. From jocks to loners, Graphic High truly had a diverse collection of students. While Billy walked among them, he didn’t focus on anyone. Freddie, on the other hand, walked with a certain type of swagger.

Trying to gain the attention of every girl he could. Seeing this kind of behaviour made Billy roll his eyes. While he had become accustomed to it, others at Graphic High didn’t find it so appealing. Pushing their way through the crowds, the two made it to their lockers. They stopped when they came to their locker, standing next to each other, both with bright red doors. Billy punched in the combination and opened his locker. Inside were two books he needed for school and half a packet of chewing gum. Billy was able to quickly round up everything inside in an instant.

Closing the door to his locker, Billy noticed the poster in Freddie’s locker door. Inside was a bikini-clad diva draped over the bonnet of a red Ferrari. He watched as his childhood friend had to clear his overstuffed locker. At the bottom of his locker was a rucksack. Freddie pulled it out, unzipped it and started forcing everything from his locker into the rucksack.

With great determination, Freddie pushed jackets, beanies, and mountains of stationery into his bag. Billy watched with anticipation, excited to see if Freddie could do it. Freddie glanced up and saw Billy leaned against his locker door, watching the event with interest.

“Screw you,” Freddie muttered to himself.