A man in a gray trench coat stands on Pluto, speaking telepathically to a Dragon. He paces, hands in pockets, coat belt secured tight. He hunches forwards as if he’s cold. But he can’t feel cold.

  He paces and paces, sitting with what The Dragon had said. His coat is such a deep perfect gray that, in some spots, he appears like a floating head haunting the dwarf planet. He kicks up the sparse pebbles and chunks of ice with just enough effort to send them into orbit. Easier than putting. He’d been at this long enough for the first batch have made it back around.

  It is surprisingly bright at noon on Pluto. As bright as the crack of dawn on Earth. Though he’d be able to see no matter what time of day.

  “I’m… sorry.”

  “Is that all you have to say?” The Dragon beams into his consciousness.

  “No, that doesn’t even begin to put it into words. But before I say anything else, I’d like you to finish telling me.”

  “Telling you what in particular?”

  “Everything.”

  “Hm. Understood. I will complete my covenant and tell you everything. My mind exists in the past, present, and future for this very reason. And upon telling you everything, we will have our discussion, and I will be gone. Everything will be in your hands from there. I’m not here to help you as I am for the others.”

  “Very well. I… don’t know if I’m worthy of doing any of that. But I have faith in a being such as yourself.”

  “Hm. Have faith in a being such as yourself. Take heart in the knowing that the purpose of this very moment is for me to tell you these series of events. Though, be warned. The first part is particularly tragic.”

  ***

  Stolen novel; please report.

  “Huh?” Damian took out his headphones.

  “I said take out those damn earbuds man, it’s class time.” Mr. Young snapped at him. He sucked his teeth. “Come on man, I’m doing my work!” Half the class chuckled; the other half knew better. “I don’t wanna hear it. If I’m speaking or not, you’re in my class, and you need to abide by my class rules like everyone else-”

  “But I’m doing my work, I’m not bothering nobody!”

  “Ah! Hey now, I’m not asking you to ace that packet or anything, I know you couldn’t even if you tried, okay? I’m just asking you to follow the rules, okay?”

  With a sharp inhale he repeated, “But I’m not bothering nobody I’m just tryna do my work in peace please-.”

  “Okay. I said what I said. Keep up this back and forth and I’m calling security.”

  Damian checkmates by putting his headphones back in and turning the volume up even higher. Mr. Young leaned back in his tall black leather chair. “And you were doing so well this school year. Suite yourself.” is what Damian would’ve heard as Mr Young reached for the phone on his desk.

  He would’ve also heard the snickering of his classmates. Some whispering about how he’s back on this kind of behavior, others fearful of an explosion when the security arrives, and a few bug-eyed ones confused as to why he didn’t just listen. He would’ve heard all of that if he wasn’t clinging onto Kid Cudi’s words to remain zen in that moment. He was so mad he had to pretend to keep working before he fell back into it. He was just coming to like Algebra II.

  “See? You all see this, right? Don’t end up like this kid, alright? Trust me, I went to school with a lot of guys like this, just like you all. And I esure you, kids like this wind up dead or in jail.” Mr. Young beat his chest. Though the class didn’t like that one, even if some of them didn’t like Damian. Who, by the grace of God, didn’t hear that despite Mr. Young piping up.

  He did hear the security enter the classroom though. The metallic click sharp enough to penetrate the music. By that time he’d actually gotten back to finishing his quadratic equation, and was gonna make a point to do so, despite Frank, the biggest security guard, standing next to him saying, “c’mon mane, get ya stuff.”

  The entire class leaned in their seats in the opposite direction of Damian. An ugly orchid, with Damian the center cluster of pollen. A pen dropping from a desk, and the jazzy beat bleeding from the headphones, is all the sound in the room. “C’mon mane!” he buzzed, tapping him on the shoulder.

  With eyes closed, and another sharp breath, Damian removed his headphones. He thought of his mother. And from there, he restrained his response to only, “Alright bruh, don’t touch me.” as he got up.

  “No problem, come with me.”

  He slung his fading black book bag from the ground over his shoulder and makes a pointless effort to brush off the dust accumulating on its bottom. He leaves his pencil on his desk, and drops the packet on a triumphant Mr. Young’s desk. No eye contact with anyone. Not that they were trying.