"Olive, Harold, where are we?" asks Alia.
I start to finally observe our environment. We're in the same alley, but there is way more trash. I look straight. Trash. I look left. More trash (and Harold). I look right. Nothing but trash (and Alia).
The ground is full of trash. The trash on the floor goes up to our shins. I can barely see the bottom.
"Alia's right!" I say. "Where are we?"
"Guys, look at the words on that building over there!" Harold says, pointing at words on a building not so far away from where we were. It says, "Welcome to TRashWorld". I wonder why the "r" in "TrashWorld" is also capitalized.
Just then, we saw a tall boy with a dark orange backpack. He looked really, REALLY familiar. Oh no-
"Tristan!?" Alia and I say all at the same time.
"Hi guys!" Tristan says, running to us. Something seemed weird. Maybe it was the fact that Tristan said "Hi guys" in a nice way. Maybe it was the fact that Tristan didn't pretend to eat eggs off our faces first thing when he sees us. Maybe it was the fact that-
But I didn't get to finish my thought, because Harold asked, "Tristan!? Is that you?"
"Of course it is!" replied Tristan. "Who else?"
52Please respect copyright.PENANAuzxgmQtoyK
"Well, you didn't even roast us!" I say.
"Of course not!" said Tristan. "Roasting is mean!"
"Wait, Tristan, what is this place?" Alia asks.
"I thought this place was TrashWorld?" states Harold.
"This place isn't 'TrashWorld'." Tristan says. "It's T.R. Ashworld! Our president is T.R. Ash!"
Harold looks down. Alia and I look at each other.
"Mr. Ash sure owns the happiest place on earth!" Tristan says.
"He owns Disney World?" Harold asks.
"No!" Tristan replies. "He owns TrashWorld!"
"Uhm, happiest?" I ask in disbelief. "Is being surrounded by banana peels and someone's lunch napkin supposed to make me happy?"
Tristan managed a laugh, a polite one, not the mocking kind he always gives me when I ask a serious question in class. "Oh Olive, you're so good at coming up with these jokes. It never fails to make me smile."
I gave Alia and Harold a questioning look. Tristan, the mean boy Tristan, is giving me a compliment. Is he making fun of me or has this boy finally gone nuts?
"Girls, (he looked away from Alia and me) Harold, as if you don't know this already," Tristan began. "It isn't the spoils around you that's supposed to make you happy. This world of ours has no adults, which means there are no rules. Anyone can do whatever they want. That's why it's the happiest place in the universe. Of course there are consequences for not having to clean up after yourself, hence the trash. But who cares, right?"
52Please respect copyright.PENANAdTHbiaFO8r
Alia's eye starts to twitch.
"Who cares!? Who cares!?" Alia shouts. "Everybody cares! It's trash! Nobody likes being surrounded in trash!"
"Olive, Alia, is that a kid driving a car!?" Harold points to a red car. He's right. A tiny kid is in the driver's seat.
"I 'dunno, TrashWorld is crazy." I say.
"I'LL TELL YOU WHAT'S CRAZY, OLIVE!" Alia says like she's lost her mind. "NOBODY EVEN HAS THE GUTS TO PICK ALL THIS UP! OR EVEN NOT LITTER!"
"Alia, chill, you see this every day!" Tristan says, as if this was the most normal thing in the world.
"So the next thing we'll see is kids driving around in police cars and arresting other kids!?" I metaphorically say.
"Why are you saying that? I see kids driving around in police cars every day after school! And by the way, the teachers are kids, too!" Tristan says, with a chill voice, as if we didn't see a kid drive a car.
My mind starts to hurt. Think, think! We were walking home from school. Tristan was bugging us. Bridget was bragging about her new phone. Miriam was telling dad jokes. There was a tornado. And then the whole world turned upside down. This has to be a dream. I bumped my head somewhere as the tornado came crashing down to us and fell asleep. That's got to be it. Now if only I could wake up. I pinched my face.
Ouch!
Harold and Alia looked at me weirdly. "Uh-oh, please don't be weird too," Alia shook my shoulders wildly.
"I'm okay, I'm okay," I said, disappointed. My eyes began to tear up. "Actually I'm not okay. I don't know where we are and I just want to go home." I slumped on the sidewalk.
"It looks like you all could use a break. Why don't you all go to my place and I'll give you some milk and cookies. Those always make me feel better when I have a boo-boo. Come on, my place is just right here somewhere, behind that mountain of junk." Tristan offered gesturing vaguely.
"Uhm, I don't know what's weird: Us in the trashworld or Tristan offering us milk and cookies," Harold said as he followed Tristan. 'This day couldn't get any weirder."
ns216.73.216.134da2

