Welcome to Chapter VIII of my novella ‘Peeved’ releasing chapter by chapter! You don’t need to read the previous chapters to know what’s happening in this story, but if you’re interested I’ll put the link to them at the bottom.
Recap
The plan was simple: Speak my mind, fix the world.
My quest:
Number 1:Cut out the baggage in my lifeNumber 2:Make my quiet carriage always quiet- Number 3: Start a revolt at Alliance that forces management to change the company culture
- Number 4: Stop my noisy neighbours from partying late at night.
- Number 5: Make Samuel the laughing stock of the company
If I pull it off, maybe people would stop seeing me as just a little Indian geek they could slap around.
So far? I’ve made enemies, lost friends, drawn blood—some mine. Got written up for telling off a clingy customer, then verbally nuked an annoying uni friend. Now step two is a movement. Regulars back me up, reclaiming the quiet carriage, one noisy offender at a time.
It was a Tuesday morning, three weeks since I had started my new way of living, when I realised I’d lost my keys. Because who doesn’t like some fun to spice up their morning? Fifteen minutes of ransacking later, I found them–sitting in a bowl of mouldy rice at the back of the fridge. Delicious.
Possessed by the spirit of Michael Schumacher, I tore down to the train station. At the car park I Tokyo-drifted into a spot, leapt out, and bolted down the Gymea Station steps.
‘Stand clear doors closing,’ the announcer droned.
No time for my usual quiet carriage. I dived into the nearest one, nearly flattening three people.
‘Sorry, sorry!’
Death stares galore.
But I made it.
The train jerked into motion and I took a few deep breaths–then the noise hit me like a wave.
School kids were tearing through the aisle, shrieking.
‘You’re too slow! You’re too slow!’ one howled.
In the corner, four office workers cackled through a loud debate.
‘I saw on Sunrise that men who dress well are more likely to cheat,’ said one woman.
‘God, Glenda,’ snapped the best dressed man, ’you believe that drivel?’
‘You’re just pissy because you know it’s true, you slut!’
They all shrieked with laughter. Everyone around them jumped.
I slapped my hands to my ears. What hellhole had I stumbled into? Two doors down, my peeps in 3QB were probably meditating in blissful silence. I might as well have been in another country.
I glanced for the inter-carriage door, ready to flee–but of course, this one led to the guard’s room.
No escape.
I’d have to wait till the next stop to race back to 3QB, and some peace.
Two minutes. I could handle two minutes.
I closed my eyes, plugged my ears, and pictured kangaroos bounding through fields of green.
Bliss.
Then the swaying slowed. I opened my eyes. We were stopping–between stations.
Of course. The gods were testing my patience.
I waited for an announcement, but… nothing.
‘HAHAHA!’ cackled the group of office workers.
A curly-haired kid tripped over my foot. Pain shot up my leg. It took all my self control to not incinerate him.
He brushed himself off, and ran away. No apology.
What the hell happened to kids these days?
Still no announcement. The walls closed in.
That’s when I saw her: a woman in the corner, sunglasses on, brown hair draped like curtains, trying to vanish into herself–my fellow sufferer.
The office workers shrieked with laughter.
That was it.
‘Hey!’ I barked, ‘Can you please shut up? Some people don’t want your voices in our heads before nine a.m.’
The carriage fell silent. Even the brats stopped.
‘Pardon me?’ said Mr. Well-Dressed, glaring.
‘You heard. And you–’ I pointed at the curly-haired boy. ‘This isn’t a playground. Didn’t your parents teach you to apologise when you hurt someone?’
The boy looked down at his shoes, ashamed.
The woman in the corner smiled.
Finally, the speaker garbled to life, ‘Sorry about the wait, folks. There was a signal error at Kirrawee. All good now–Kirrawee next stop.’
The train crawled forward. Silence–thick and awkward–held until we pulled in.
I burst onto the platform, ready to sprint to 3QB. But I paused.
I looked back through window and saw the kids running, the workers squawking, and the woman in the corner slumped in defeat.
My heart sank.
I know what you’re thinking–why didn’t she just follow you to the quiet carriage, Arjun?
Fair. But no one deserves to commute on the verge of ripping their ears out.
One of my quiet-carriage comrades waved at me from 3QB, beckoning me over.
I shook my head.
He frowned in confusion.
A street-preacher’s quote came to me: ‘Jesus said, “It is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick.”’
‘I’m needed here,’ I called out.
The man nodded his head skeptically and went on the train.
I’m no god–I can’t catch every train. But I could at least try to make the ones I do less soul-destroying.
I added new item to my list:
Number 6: Make all the carriages on my train peaceful
TO BE CONTINUED…
Isaiah Prasad 