The scene: A high school cafeteria that is, improbably enough, populated entirely by years. That is to say, the numerical representation of years. You have 1776, replete with a wig and tri-corner hat, at a table close enough to the exit that he could sneak out early to smoke a cigarette out back before heading to class. Everyone knows he does it, but no one stops him. He s 1776, after all.
Arrayed around 1776 are 1787, 1865, 1945, 1984 and 1998, a tightknit group of years who call themselves, without any sense of irony, the Goodyears. The Goodyears are the elite of this school. Of course, everyone else hates the Goodyears but also desperately wants to be accepted by them. Years still talk about the time 1969 agreed to 1984 s dare to change her full name to Summer of 69 only to earn the Goodyears mocking laughter.
Most of the other tables are occupied by years of more middling stature, clustered by interests. There s the sub-Goodyear football players, years like 1943, 1863 and 1777, gathered at one table, trading war stories. There s the drama geeks, 2000, 1941, 1860 and friends, orating loudly and with lots of hand gestures, some from a standing position.
In the corner, next to the garbage cans, appropriately distanced from the other tables, are three sullen years: 1918, 2020 and 2021. These are the goths. Dressed in black, and dripping with angst, the goths lean in, speaking quietly to each other, their soft voices further muffled by their masks.
2021: [sobbing inconsolably] I had dreams, expectations . . . And here I am, still at the pandemic table. With you guys.
2020: Hey! It s not that bad. At least you had schools open sometimes, and sports, and toilet paper and not as many riots.
1918: And no world war . . . Get over yourself.
2021: Yet. No world war yet. I still have a week.
1918: Dude, you have indoor flushing toilets, cars, airplanes and Netflix.
2020: And Prince Harry and Meghan moved to the U.S.!
2021: Seriously? I thought you were trying to cheer me up. The problem is, I had a taste of what might have been [pauses wistfully], a glimpse of life at the other tables. Back in June, the pandemic was supposed to be over and life was going to be normal. And then Delta . . .
