Chapter Text
“Mr Hansen, are you listening?”
The laughter from the class coming after my teacher’s comment knocked me back into reality. I quickly looked up to the front of the classroom, where my math teacher, Mr David, was teaching something about algebra. He now stood, commandingly, in the front with his arms crossed over his chest.
I’d been looking out the window, at the large oak tree that was planted in front of the school. It was the one good part of my high school, the one piece of beauty in a sea of despair, anger, heartbreak and teenage angst.
“Yes.” I responded in a half-hearted voice. I plastered on a nervous smile, feeling my heart beat faster because I knew that everyone was looking at me. Watching me. Judging me quietly in their minds. My hand flew to my cast right away, trying in vain to cover it up.
“Then please repeat to me what I just said.” Mr David replied, tapping his foot in rhythm with my heightened breathing as he glared at me. The other students giggled in a way that showed that they were trying not to laugh, and my face heated up.
Mr David’s Squip, a small semi-opaque man in a suit who looked much like Mr David, was glaring at me, too. The Squip was about a foot tall, hovering about an inch over Mr David's shoulder.
Mr David didn’t have an outright problem with me, but his Squip did. I knew that if my Squip worked that my Squip and his Squip would have a very long, very rude argument with each other.
And, because I was sans Squip, I had to think my own way out of dumb situations I got myself into. Like the one I was currently in.
“Um, the chaos theory?” I attempted, not knowing where my words had come from. I surprised everyone in the class with my answer, including myself. Mr David raised an eyebrow as my palms began to get sweaty.
In my mind’s eye, I could see him throwing me out of his classroom and calling the principal. The principal would then kick me out of high school, and Mom would be so ashamed. Or maybe Mr David would make me the laughingstock of the school for both not having a Squip and for caring more about trees than math. I wasn’t sure which was worse.
“I’ve never, in all my years as a teacher, taught the chaos theory, Mr Hansen.” Mr David’s voice was stale, and still surprised. A small smile slowly crept across his face as he thought of the perfect punishment for me not listening in class. “Can you tell me what the chaos theory is, Mr Hansen?”
My mind blanked, just like every other social interaction I usually had on a daily basis. Only this time it was between a teacher and I, in front of the whole class. I tried not to focus on the people in class, trying to not acknowledge that I’d be the laughing stock of next hour’s lunch if I got this wrong.
“Chaos theory is the idea that life is chaotic?” I tried. I bit my lip so hard I feared I’d break open the skin and have blood flood my mouth and kill me, if Mr David’s Squip didn’t kill me first.
“That is almost right, Mr Hansen.” Mr David nodded, suppressing his own smile and laughs. He quickly shook the happy mood he was in and stared me down, his thoughts shifting towards now punishing me. “You are going to write me an essay that will be on my desk on Monday morning about chaos theory. Got it?”
“Yes, Mr David. You’ll have an essay by Monday.” I choked out, playing with the fingers on my left hand in an effort to distract myself from the laughing and shouting voices that I was drowning in. The sound made me wish that lunch would just come already, so I could hide in the computer lab away from everyone else already.
Although Mr David seemed to find what had just happened somewhat funny, his Squip was shaking his head slowly and, if he had laser vision, I would have a very large hole going through my skull by now. His Squip flashed a final angry red, and turned back to the board, admiring the equation that Mr David had written in black Expo marker.
Laughter filled the room, and I heard the sound of many teenagers saying that they would be posting videos of what had transpired on different social media sites. Yet another reminder of why I didn’t use the Internet for anything but schoolwork. Social media was still a social thing, and social means people.
Squips from students, which were supposed to be turned off in class, flickered into existence for the last minute before class ended. Each of the Squips were different, and they each emitted a different color of light through their semi-opaque bodies. Squips and students talked and joked and laughed, reminding me once again how different my world was from theirs. The bodies of the Squips, small and slightly aglow, twinkled in the dull light of the classroom.
Even though I technically had a Squip in my head, it couldn’t be activated for whatever reason. Doctors and scientists said that Squips didn’t work in less than one percent of the population on planet Earth. The implants that allowed me to see other people’s Squips still worked, though. I had been debating since the start of middle school if seeing other people's Squips was a blessing or a curse.
“Well, I guess that’s all I have to say today, class.” Mr David addressed the other students in the classroom, his voice raising in volume with each word over the loud white noise of the students he was speaking to. “Remember to do problems 60 through 75 for homework, and have a wonderful weekend!”
The bell rang, and the other students in my class rushed out of the door, happy to get to lunch. It was like watching a dam burst, everyone trying to leave at the same time. I tried to steady my breathing and think happy thoughts as I threw my math textbook into my backpack.
I rushed out of the classroom, while the nerds still lingered to talk to Mr David about math, their excited voices a far cry from the mean, minced sounds of the hallway that was laid out before me. A sea of people and Squips made me almost dizzy as they moved and ran to their lunch hour. I could almost sense the headache that some of my fellow classmates must have from running their Squips all day, I was told they could be incapacitating.
My math class was, thankfully, on the same side of the school as the computer lab. I’d been using the large, usually unoccupied room as my refuge from my high school’s lunch room since Sophomore year when I realized that students didn’t get yelled at for lingering during lunch.
I let myself relax a bit as I walked over to my favorite computer. It was an older version of a Mac, with a faded Apple logo with the number 11 etched onto the logo in silver Sharpie. Each of the computers had a similar logo with a number, going from 1 to 40. I didn’t know why the school had such a large computer lab, hardly anyone used it. Squips made computers almost completely obsolete, yet the school still had 40 of the things lying around.
Logging in was simple, every student at my high school had a simple and easy to remember username and password that the school created for them when they were freshmen. The first three letters of the first name and the first five of the last name were what made up the username, and the password was four randomly generated numbers.
There was the predictable Apple startup sound that no one, not even the tech team at the high school, could seem to silence on the Macs. I quickly clicked onto Chrome, remembering my meetup my therapist that my mom had scheduled. I knew I’d have to print out the letter I had written to myself about Zoe.
“Remember to print out one of those letters you wrote, Evan!” My mom had said as I walked out the door that morning. Her voice had been high, she was no doubt happy that it was Friday and the weekend was coming soon.
I wasn’t sure why she was so happy about the weekend, she still had to work weekends. It wasn’t like people stopping getting sick or something just because Saturday rolled around. If anything, it only got worse.
Still, I smiled slightly at her voice in my memory, opening the Google Doc that I had on my Drive and hitting the ‘Print’ button under ‘File’. I heard the sound of the printer working, shuffling papers and whirring quietly from the corner.
The sound of footsteps mixed in with the sound of the printer. I didn’t bother to look up to see who was coming in, it was probably just Mrs Parpart doing some more video editing on her iMac during her lunch period.
Clicking onto a new tab, I started looking up anything I could find on the chaos theory I had so stupidly brought up during my math class. I took one look at each website before bookmarking it and copy and pasting the text onto a new Google Doc and preparing to print it out for later.
After fifteen minutes of quickly finding every I could out about the chaos theory - which I was right about how it explained why life was so crazy and how no one could ever predict the future - I printed all of the documents out at once. I worried that the poor, ancient printer might explode, but I wanted to get to eating my lunch at some point in my lunch hour before arriving in my next class no less than twenty minutes early.
The usual sounds of the printer working filled the room, and I ran my fingers over my cast dejectedly. I remembered my fall, the sudden pain that filled my arm before I could feel nothing. The perfectly white cast had no signatures from anyone at school. Mom had told me to get someone to sign it, so I hoped that I could convince a teacher to sign it before the end of the day.
The sound of footsteps were heard again, and this time I turned around. I smiled, ready to talk to Mrs Parpart. She didn’t really care that I spent time here, and she would usually just edit and talk about her two sons while I sat quietly in listened. She’d love to sign my cast, it might even make her day. And the best part, she followed the rule of no Squips in the school, so I wouldn't have to stare at a dizzying blip of light over her shoulder.
Instead, as I turned around, I was faced with a fellow student. A Senior, Connor Murphy.
I blushed at his appearance, not expecting him of all people to show up. I quickly whipped back around to face Mac number 11, pretending that I was typing. In all reality, I was just filling the Google search box with gibberish as I tried to force myself to think of something to do, to say.
“Are these yours?” Connor’s voice snapped me out of my anxiety for a second. I turned around, my heart beating faster than it usually did when I had a social interaction with people.
Connor held all of the papers that I had printed out in his hand. His arm was extended out towards me, he wanted me to take the papers. I didn't understand why he was being so nice, and I questioned it, but it didn't once cross my mind to snub him and not take the papers.
If he had read my letter about Zoe, I was done for. I gulped and nodded, trying to smile. I don’t know what expression actually came out across my face, but I hoped it wasn’t too ugly or off putting.
“Thank you.” I smiled and took the papers he offered me. They were all of the chaos theory ones I had just printed out, with the letter about Zoe still on the bottom, unread. I quickly shoved the papers into my backpack and pulled out the lunch I had packed myself, hoping to avoid conversation by eating food.
“Why are you studying chaos theory?” Connor asked, and I couldn’t tell if he was genuinely curious or just trying to pass the time. It was just the effect that Connor had on people, they were unable to figure him out. “Some kind of science project or whatever?”
“Math class, actually.” I replied, my voice low. I didn’t look Connor in the eyes, and instead focussed on my shoes, tracing the lines of the design with my eyes.
“Sounds advanced.” Connor said, and I could hear something acute to laughter in his voice. I couldn’t be sure, because I’d never heard of Connor Murphy ever smiling or laughing. “No one signed yet?”
“Huh?” I looked up from my shoes to see Connor looking at my cast. Suddenly, it felt like it weighed a million pounds and was crushing my arm slowly. “Yeah, no one’s signed yet.”
“Well, let me, then.” Connor reached into his pocket and grabbed a black Sharpie before I could even protest.
Connor quickly grabbed my arm with a steady hand and wrote his name in large, black letters over the pristine white cast. His name took up almost all of the space on the cast, making it seem much less pathetic than before.
“Now we can both pretend like we have friends.” He said, his voice sounded sad and happy at the same time. He quickly put the Sharpie back into his pocket and placed his hands on his knees.
That was when I realized something that had made me wonder since I first saw him, but I hadn’t been able to put my finger onto it until now.
“You don’t have your Squip activated.” I realized aloud, looking Connor in the eyes. He made a nervous face and his eyes clouded over in a way that told me that he didn’t want to talk about the topic I had brought up.
“I disconnected it for the day.” Connor replied, his words short and precise. I knew that Squips could be shut off, but I had never heard of anyone shutting theirs off just because they didn’t want to talk of them. Especially not a teenager. Squips were almost necessary to survive high school.
“Oh.” Was all I could think to say. I started playing with my fingers again, trying to ignore the awkward silence that had fallen over Connor and I.
“Well, Hansen, I have to get back to lunch.” Connor stood up, walking in large strides over to the door of the computer lab. He hesitated at the last second, as if he were going to turn around have a conversation with me about something. But he thought better of it, and kept moving.
Once he was gone I looked down at my cast, which now had a name on it. I traced his name with my finger, happy that I would have something good to report to Mom tonight. Connor has signed my cast, I had a friend, and she didn’t have to worry about me.
And the best part? My letter to myself was safe from prying eyes.
“Welcome home, Evan.”
My whispered greeting to myself bounced off of the walls of the kitchen as I slowly closed the door to my house behind me. I set my backpack down onto the table carefully, not wanting to crush any of the papers in it. I flipped the on the lights with my left elbow, smiling slightly at the stunt.
The kitchen was small, with counters lining the walls on almost every side. In the middle was a too-large table that seemed to take up all of the space that wasn’t taken up by the counter. The oven and fridge were both older than I was, and they both were still working better than anything than the new ones my neighbors had to replace every five years.
My eyes wandered the old, familiar walls that had pictures of roosters and chickens and perfectly created meals, over an unpleasant yellow backdrop that was the wall. The off-white of the oven and fridge made the unpleasant yellow seem even worse. But the dark wood of the table and the counters were a good change from the rest of the decor.
I walked over to the kitchen cupboards and took out some chocolate chips. Chocolate is the answer to all life’s problems, as far as I’m concerned. People will hate you. Situations will go from bad to worse. But chocolate will never never hurt you, or least it hasn’t turned on me yet.
The bag was unopened, Mom knew how much I loved the dumb cooking supplies that were inside of the cheery yellow plastic wrapping. I picked up my bag from the table, careful not to knock over the napkin holder or the salt and pepper shakers that were sitting in the perfect center of the table.
Holding my snack in one hand, and my school work in the other, I walked to my bedroom. I pushed open the door effortlessly, and I was welcomed to the cleanest, most pristine room a teenage boy could have.
There were no piles of clothes littering the ground, no naughty posters plastered on the walls. My clothes were contained in a chest of drawers that was on the farthest wall away from the door, and the posters that were up on my walls were ones of trees from all over the world.
Above my bed was the most amazing tree I’d ever seen. It was a big oak, and I loved it because it had leaves the size of adult hands, and its bark was so perfectly colored. Mom had gotten me the poster as an effort to save the forest the tree was in from being cut down, buy posters and an environmental agency could buy out the land and save the trees.
The walls of my bedroom were a light blue, and my window was slightly ajar to let in some airflow into my otherwise claustrophobic room. My blue curtains swayed in the wind. The floor was wood, which meant that on cold mornings my feet would freeze when they were with or without socks. I had covered the floor in multicolored throw rugs that were of all shapes and sizes.
I placed my bag down on the floor next to my bed and opened the laptop bag I kept my laptop in. I pulled out my laptop, brushing my fingers against the perfect plastic that my laptop was made out of. The Dell logo was engraved on the back of the screen, in silver lettering over the black laptop.
Since I didn’t have a Squip, a laptop was needed for me to be able to function in the world and get on the Internet. With a Squip, I would be able to connect to the Internet effortlessly, and have the Squip type things on documents by me just thinking the words. It was how essays could be written in under an hour.
I could still remember the first time Mom told me that I couldn’t have a Squip. I was pretty young, in fifth grade, when most kids get a Squip. Implantations in the brain to be able to see Squips are given to each child at birth, but Squips are usually implanted until age ten due to brain functions that I couldn’t understand then, and still can’t understand now.
The doctor was unable to understand why the Squip he had had me swallow wasn’t working. He assumed a faulty Squip, and he had me swallow another one when I came back two days later. But, when it didn’t work again, the doctor realized that it might be a problem with my brain.
A couple of tests later, my mother's fears came true: I couldn’t have a Squip in my head. I would be forever different from everyone else, I’d have to constantly use computers, and I’d never have the web of intercommunications that all Squip users enjoy.
I got over the fact I didn’t have a Squip pretty quickly, it just wasn’t something I was too worried about until I was in middle school. That was when socially is was unacceptable to not have a Squip. This, mixed with my social anxiety, made the perfect storm for me. Sadly, I hadn’t yet reached the eye of the hurricane I seemed to live in.
Opening my laptop, I saw the Dell logo flash across the screen as the screen asked me for my password to access my laptop’s full capabilities. I typed in my password, and I was greeted with my desktop image of a large palm tree from hawaii.
I clicked on Chrome, preparing to work on my essay on the chaos theory. I had read through each of the papers I had printed during the study hall I had during the last period of my day. The chaos theory was pretty simple to explain, as long as one just explained the basics. There was a lot of science that went into the chaos theory, but none of it was too hard for the average high school student - or teacher - to understand.
I ripped open the bag of chocolate chips with my teeth, and dumped some of the bag right into my mouth. I smiled, feeling happy that if I was going to suffer through this dumb essay, at least I was going to suffer through it with the help of chocolate.
The Google Doc was working out perfectly, and I had gotten done the introduction and the first body paragraph by the time that 6pm rolled around. My stomach told me that I had to eat something soon, and I slowly walked into the kitchen after closing my laptop.
I padded to the kitchen in my sock covered feet and rummaged through the cupboards for something for me to eat. Mom or I had to go out grocery shopping soon, because there wasn’t much to eat. I finally decided that I’d cook myself up some ramen, it wasn’t like I could burn the house down making noodles.
I made myself some ramen on the stove, and I added some mushrooms and peppers that Mom had in the fridge (one of the few fresh foods that were still in the house). I took my time eating, it wasn’t like I wanted to rush back to my room to finish the essay. All in all, I wasn’t having a too bad a Friday night.
If Mr David had stuck that assignment on anyone else in my class, it might have ruined their weekend. But, like most of my weekends, this weekend was going to be spent by doing homework. The semester was ending soon, and the teachers were happily giving everyone more work than the average teenager could properly do.
By 6:30pm, I was done eating and I cleaned the dishes in the sink, along with the ones I had just used. The warm water cascading over my hands helped to calm me down, and it made me feel better than I had felt all day. Once all of the dishes that needed to be cleaned were cleaned, I dried them and put them back where they came from.
Walking back to my room, I decided that I’d do all of my essay writing for math class tonight and then work on my other homework tomorrow. Since I didn’t have to work this weekend, it would be the perfect time to get done all of the upcoming assignments the teachers had put in Google Classroom that were still a few weeks out.
I’m not a nerd, I just have nothing better to do.
The rest of the essay wasn’t as easy to write the first part. Turns out chaos theory is pretty complicated, and it needed a seven paragraph essay and not a five paragraph essay. By the time I was finally done, half my essay was underlined with angry, bent red lines that indicated a misspelled word or grammatical error.
“I’ll edit it in the morning.” I whispered sleepily to myself. I cast a sidelong glance at the digital clock on my nightable, and I saw that I had spent four hours finishing up the essay that I wasn’t even supposed to have assigned to me. My head was pounding because I had stared at my computer’s screen too long, and the colors in my room looked weird.
I reached down into my laptop bag, and fished out the charger that was sitting inside of the black bag. I plugged the charger into the wall, and began to charge my laptop in anticipation for my long weekend of homework. The little red light on the side of laptop flashed hypnotically, telling me that the laptop was close to being dead, but still charging.
Pushing myself off of my bed, I walked over to my dresser and changed into my pajamas. I picked out my clothes more based on comfort than anything, and my pajamas were no different. They consisted of a grey shirt that had been washed so many times that it felt like a cloud, and some old soft pants that were a black, white and grey plaid pattern.
Before I crawled into bed, ready to sleep off the headache that was putting pressure and pain in my temples, I turned off my light and opened my window a tad bit more to let in the cool outside air. When I finally got to nestle under my blankets, I laid my head on my pillow. Then a miracle happened.
For the first time since I was a child, I didn’t spend an hour agonising over all of the embarrassing things I had done that day or worrying about how terrible tomorrow would be. Instead, I fell right to sleep.
My dreams were happily nonexistent.
“Calibration in process. Please excuse some mild discomfort.”
A splitting pain in my head woke up, along with a voice. I pulled my body into a sitting position, trying to look around to see who was speaking to me while I was trying to sleep. My body was sticky with sweat and my muscles felt sore and overused, even though I didn’t have PE until next semester and I had walked home many hours ago now.
“Calibration complete. Access procedure: initiated.”
The pain got worse, until I wasn’t sure if I could keep silent any longer. I wanted to cry out, but I worried that, because it was still dark out, if Mom came back and heard me yelling, she might freak out and call the cops. I didn’t want to freak her out, so I bit my lip until I tasted blood.
And I wasn’t sure I wanted to report to the cops over a disembodied voice in my head that was causing me the most painful headache I’d ever had to live through.
“Accessing: neural memory. Accessing: muscle memory. Access procedure complete. Evan Hansen, welcome to your Super Quantum Unit Intel Processor. Your Squip.”
“Squip?” I whispered in wonder, a small smile creeping across my face at the words ‘your Squip’. I threw my blankets off of my torso, and looking around for the little speck of light that was a Squip. “I thought I couldn’t have a Squip. . . What is going on?”
I stood up, my body swaying a tad in my fear of what had just happened. Had I somehow ingested a Squip without knowing? Or were the ones that I had had deactivated from all those years ago coming back to take revenge like evil AI computer programs do in the movies? Was this some kind of prank that someone was pulling on me? Was it Jared’s doing?
I looked down at my cast, seeing that Connor’s name was still on it. I pinched my other arm that I didn’t have a cast on, and but it didn’t wake me up. I tried again, and pain shot up my arm. Fearfully, I searched my room with my eyes for my Squip, now that I knew I wasn’t dreaming this whole thing.
My anxiety made me still with fear, I would sometimes just fully shut down when I didn’t have the ability to fully construct sentences due to my fear.
“Hansen?” The voice that spoke sounded nothing like the cold, dead computer voice that had caused me so much pain before. My shoulders stiffened and I debated turning around to face the Squip, knowing that it was behind me based on how the voice sounded in my ears.
On the one hand, I wouldn’t be a social outcast anymore if I had a Squip. But on the other, I’d have to figure out what the heck had just happened, and that would mean investigating, and it was the middle of the night.
“Are you my Squip?” I asked, drawing my shoulders close in a defensive position. I knew I was asking a dumb question, but I refused to turn around until I got an answer. Maybe I was just hearing things or this was a dream.
“I think so.” The voice said, and it sounded like a male voice I had heard before. Slightly angry and rough, yet also powerless and clean. Could it be?
“Connor?” I gasped as I saw him. His body, hair and clothes and were all was semi-opaque, like how all Squips look. He was surrounded by a grey light I had never seen before. It was halfway between darkness and pure, white light it was perfect for his personality.
“How is this possible?” He wondered aloud, slightly disgruntled and angry. “I’m supposed to be dead, not living as someone’s Squip. What did you do, Hansen?”
Connor spoke my last name with anger enough to make me pale and hold my hands up in surrender while my heart thundered in my chest. He sneered at me, his grey light becoming slightly more black as his mood became worse and worse.
“Why would you be dead?” I cocked my head to the side, lowering my hands back down to my sides against my better judgement. “Connor, what happened?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.” Connor became suddenly closed off, turning away from me. “Maybe this is my punishment for the way I lived. I’m stuck with Evan Hansen of all people for the rest of eternity. Great.”
“Hey!” I cried, raising up a finger in my defense, “I’m not that bad!”
“Yes, you are that bad.” Connor said flatly, giving me a sideways glance through his hair. “You really are, Hansen.”
“Stop calling me ‘Hansen’.” I ordered quietly, sitting down on my bed. My order came out sounding more like a plea with my sleepy voice. “It makes me sound like I’m a little kid again.”
“The way you decorate your room it does make you seem like a little kid.” Connor fired back, his eyes scanning my walls in the near-darkness in my room. There was a street light that was allowing some illumination into my room, but it was mostly dark. “Jesus, Hansen, got enough trees?”
“I like trees, okay?” I blushed, feeling a stutter coming on. I pushed it down and forced myself to speak normally. “At least I don’t shop exclusively at Hot Topic.”
“You crossed the line, Hansen.” Connor stared daggers into me, and I shied away from his stare. “I don’t shop at Hot Topic, contrary to speculation.”
“I’ll stop teasing you about Hot Topic if you stop calling me ‘Hansen’.” I crossed my arms over my chest, happy with myself for the good negotiating skills I was using. “How does that sound?”
“The more you hate me calling you Hansen the more I’m going to call you Hansen, Hansen.” Connor retorted, crossing his arms over his chest. He looked smugly at me, smirking slightly. I frowned and blushed, looking away. “You can’t escape me, and I can’t escape you. I’m going to make the best of this situation, for myself, that is.”
“Good for you.” I replied, starting to feel fatigue come back to my body. My eyelids were getting heavy, and the surprise of Connor showing up - as my Squip, no less - had worn off. I was tired, and I needed to get some sleep.
“What am I supposed to do while you’re sleeping?” Connor whined, knowing what was coming as my eyelids fluttered. I yawned loudly and shrugged at his question before responding.
“Explore my room, maybe?” I suggested with a shrug. “I really don’t care, as long as I can get some good, decent sleep.”
“Okay.” Connor resigned, moving to sit on the top of my bedframe. “It’s a little after 3am, you should try and get some sleep before tomorrow. Then we can start our weekend.”
I looked up at Connor as I laid my head down on my pillow. How was it that the guy who I was afraid of just a few hours ago was now my Squip? How was it that I was able to have a person as my Squip? How was I able to even have a Squip, after the doctors said that my mind just couldn’t handle it? Was it possible that I had somehow been able to overcome my ability to not have a Squip? Was Jared behind this somehow?
The questions swarmed in my head like angry wasps, but I silenced them. I wondered if Connor could read my thoughts, and if he knew about my crush on his sister, Zoe. I hoped not, or else I was in for a world of pain, since now I knew that Squips could, in fact, give people nasty headaches.
“Night, Connor.” I whispered as I got myself comfortable in my bed, hoping for another dreamless sleep. But one that wouldn’t be disrupted by immense pain this time.
Connor said nothing to indicate he had heard my words.