The orb didn't reveal any secrets upon initial inspections. In fact, other than the fact that he could see it and was holding it, Franc couldn't confirm that it existed.
He first put it under a microscope, but as he looked through the lens, there was nothing there. He pulled his face away and repositioned the strange object, expecting that he had simply gotten a bad angle. After checking the position of the object and the view through the microscope multiple times, he decided there was something wrong with his microscope.
The next logical move was to try to get it to react with one of his tools.
He pulled a small pedestal closer to him and set the orb on top of it. He watched it for a couple of seconds, waiting for something to happen. Nothing did. After taking it off of the pedestal, Franc took a small metal rod and moved to touch it to the strange object. However, instead of tapping its surface, the rod simply passed through it.
That was the moment he decided that he needed to contact some of his new associates. He took a picture of the orb and immediately uploaded it to his computer so he could email them. On a whim, he decided to open the picture and check it. When he did, he found that there was no orb in the shot.
It took him three more attempts to decide that the object couldn't be photographed.
"What are you?" Franc asked, mostly to himself but also partially hoping for an answer.
His hope was rewarded with a slightly brighter glow from the orb.
Franc stared in disbelief. Then, he spent a moment chastising himself for feeling even a twinge of disbelief after what he'd seen in the last several weeks.
"Can you here me?" Franc whispered to the artifact.
The orb's red surface darkened to black then faded into a bright shade of yellow.
"Can I trust you?"
The yellow shifted very suddenly back to red.
Franc, eyes wide with fear, leapt across the room, pulled a small wooden box from under his mattress, threw the orb in it, and ran with it to his backyard. It took him the entirety of the next two hours to dig a hole he felt was deep enough to bury it.
Tuesday, September 24, 2013
Monday, September 9, 2013
Chapter 3 Part 2
All he could see was black.
Then out of the black came a shining, beautiful angel. She touched him gently on the cheek and guided him out of the darkness. He stared into her beautiful, pale blue eyes, slowly realizing who was standing over him. Then her features began to blur and morph . . .
Into the face of Jermaine.
Franc's brother stood over him, slapping him repeatedly in the face. "'Bout time you woke up," said Jermaine in his disgustingly smug voice. "You had us worried there for a second." A hope sprung up in Franc as he considered all of the possible meanings of the word 'us'. He took a deep breath, the overwhelming smell in his nose confirming his deepest hopes. "Oh don't worry. Mom and dad are here. I called them as soon as I found you like this."
Crash.
The smell of Penny's perfume clung to Jermaine as he stood over Franc, but she was nowhere near them. Us. Franc was certain he had never been so disappointed to realize his parents were home.
After a frantic shake-down from his mother and quick glance from his father, Franc returned to his bedroom followed closely by his brother. "So what really happened?" The question was not casual or concerned. It was conniving. He knew something and was looking for more.
"I don't know," Franc said, only half honest. "One second I was fine, the next you were slapping me in the face."
"Uh huh," said Jermaine skeptically. "So then what's this?" He held up a small, round object. Its red exterior shone with a familiar glow, but Franc couldn't place it. That made it easy to deny any knowledge of it with a casual shrug. "Oh don't worry," Jermaine continued as Franc cringed at the catch phrase. "Mom and dad don't know about it. I found it in the microwave and noticed you had some popcorn. I'm just curious about what it is."
"I don't know what it is," said Franc frustratedly. "Can't you just drop it and go to bed?"
Jermaine offered a half-smile that suggested he knew more than he was showing. Franc knew that it actually meant he thought he knew more than he actually did. "Ok, then. Don't worry. Your secret's safe with me."
And with that, Jermaine went to his bed and slept.
Franc, on the other hand, laid in his bed just until he could hear Jermaine's unnecessarily heavy breathing that always accompanied sleep. He then snuck over to Jermaine's side of the room, picked up the strange object from the microwave, and took it to his desk.
Then out of the black came a shining, beautiful angel. She touched him gently on the cheek and guided him out of the darkness. He stared into her beautiful, pale blue eyes, slowly realizing who was standing over him. Then her features began to blur and morph . . .
Into the face of Jermaine.
Franc's brother stood over him, slapping him repeatedly in the face. "'Bout time you woke up," said Jermaine in his disgustingly smug voice. "You had us worried there for a second." A hope sprung up in Franc as he considered all of the possible meanings of the word 'us'. He took a deep breath, the overwhelming smell in his nose confirming his deepest hopes. "Oh don't worry. Mom and dad are here. I called them as soon as I found you like this."
Crash.
The smell of Penny's perfume clung to Jermaine as he stood over Franc, but she was nowhere near them. Us. Franc was certain he had never been so disappointed to realize his parents were home.
After a frantic shake-down from his mother and quick glance from his father, Franc returned to his bedroom followed closely by his brother. "So what really happened?" The question was not casual or concerned. It was conniving. He knew something and was looking for more.
"I don't know," Franc said, only half honest. "One second I was fine, the next you were slapping me in the face."
"Uh huh," said Jermaine skeptically. "So then what's this?" He held up a small, round object. Its red exterior shone with a familiar glow, but Franc couldn't place it. That made it easy to deny any knowledge of it with a casual shrug. "Oh don't worry," Jermaine continued as Franc cringed at the catch phrase. "Mom and dad don't know about it. I found it in the microwave and noticed you had some popcorn. I'm just curious about what it is."
"I don't know what it is," said Franc frustratedly. "Can't you just drop it and go to bed?"
Jermaine offered a half-smile that suggested he knew more than he was showing. Franc knew that it actually meant he thought he knew more than he actually did. "Ok, then. Don't worry. Your secret's safe with me."
And with that, Jermaine went to his bed and slept.
Franc, on the other hand, laid in his bed just until he could hear Jermaine's unnecessarily heavy breathing that always accompanied sleep. He then snuck over to Jermaine's side of the room, picked up the strange object from the microwave, and took it to his desk.
Thursday, September 5, 2013
Chapter 3 Part 1
The moment Franc had gotten home from school, he had gone to his room and locked the door. For the next 24 hours, he had stayed in that room ignoring sleep, food, and everything to do with the outside world, opting instead to work frantically on his project. There had been a brief momentary interruption when his mom came home, during which he calmly explained the events leading to his suspension and she calmly and willingly accepted it without further question.
That was the moment he knew for sure that it was working, giving him the motivation to finish.
Over the course of that first day of suspension, he hadn't seen Jermaine at all. He was, of course, grateful for this fact, but he was also intrigued. His brother should have been home no more than a couple of hours after him, yet there had been no sign of him. Granted, he had taken some time during his work to turn his attention toward his dear, sweet brother, but Jermaine hadn't been the target of the project until the last half hour. Was it possible for it to work that quickly? More importantly, was it possible for it to work post ex facto?
After he finally liberated himself from his room, Franc took a brief tour of his house, looking for any signs of any other life. There was none. His parents were out on their bimonthly date night, but that also usually went hand-in-hand with Jermaine throwing a party. Instead, there was nothing but silence.
Franc grinned and ran to the living room, plopping himself down on the couch. After turning on the TV and finding a channel that seemed to be in the middle of a bad sci-fi movie marathon, he went to the kitchen for some popcorn. Though he had been the last person to make popcorn and had done so only a couple days before, it took him a bit to remember where it was. He knew that it should be somewhere in the kitchen and somewhere low, but that didn't narrow it down hardly at all. He finally found it in the cabinet under the microwave, and casually put it in the machine without paying attention, pressing the buttons as though he were a pre-programmed machine.
Two and a half minutes later, Franc took the popcorn from the microwave and opened the bag, ignoring the formalities of placing it in a bowl. As he reached his hand into the bag, the room around him began to spin. He stopped, dropped the bag and supported himself against the wall until everything stabilized. Then he very calmly picked the popcorn back up, walked to the living room and firmly planted himself once more before the television.
Franc finished the popcorn long before the first movie was over and flung the bag across the room. As he lay on the couch, fully enthralled in the movie he wasn't actually watching, he was snapped back to reality by a breaking news bulletin interrupting the station.
He managed to focus just long enough to see an image of his school in flames before passing out.
That was the moment he knew for sure that it was working, giving him the motivation to finish.
Over the course of that first day of suspension, he hadn't seen Jermaine at all. He was, of course, grateful for this fact, but he was also intrigued. His brother should have been home no more than a couple of hours after him, yet there had been no sign of him. Granted, he had taken some time during his work to turn his attention toward his dear, sweet brother, but Jermaine hadn't been the target of the project until the last half hour. Was it possible for it to work that quickly? More importantly, was it possible for it to work post ex facto?
After he finally liberated himself from his room, Franc took a brief tour of his house, looking for any signs of any other life. There was none. His parents were out on their bimonthly date night, but that also usually went hand-in-hand with Jermaine throwing a party. Instead, there was nothing but silence.
Franc grinned and ran to the living room, plopping himself down on the couch. After turning on the TV and finding a channel that seemed to be in the middle of a bad sci-fi movie marathon, he went to the kitchen for some popcorn. Though he had been the last person to make popcorn and had done so only a couple days before, it took him a bit to remember where it was. He knew that it should be somewhere in the kitchen and somewhere low, but that didn't narrow it down hardly at all. He finally found it in the cabinet under the microwave, and casually put it in the machine without paying attention, pressing the buttons as though he were a pre-programmed machine.
Two and a half minutes later, Franc took the popcorn from the microwave and opened the bag, ignoring the formalities of placing it in a bowl. As he reached his hand into the bag, the room around him began to spin. He stopped, dropped the bag and supported himself against the wall until everything stabilized. Then he very calmly picked the popcorn back up, walked to the living room and firmly planted himself once more before the television.
Franc finished the popcorn long before the first movie was over and flung the bag across the room. As he lay on the couch, fully enthralled in the movie he wasn't actually watching, he was snapped back to reality by a breaking news bulletin interrupting the station.
He managed to focus just long enough to see an image of his school in flames before passing out.
Sunday, April 7, 2013
Revolución Part A
From the moment he got out of his car, he knew something was off. He wasn’t sure what it was, but something was just not right. Maybe it was the fact that there seemed to be less birds chirping. Maybe it was that no one was outside skipping out on third period. Maybe it was the one kid he saw walking quickly away from the school.
Maybe it was simply the fact that he hadn’t been running this late in years.
He entered the school carefully. If everything had gone as planned, he was covered and would be able to walk into fourth period as if he had been there all morning. Everyone was bustling quickly through the hallways to their next class, talking a bit more excitedly than usual. He noticed everyone’s faces mixed with confusion, fear, awe, and the occasional spark of pride. He also quickly noticed that the closer he got to his class, the quieter it got.
It didn’t take him long to figure out why.
Dark storm clouds swirled about her head, flames erupted from her mouth, snakes wriggled their way through her hair, and death itself spewed from her eyes. The mangled bodies of her last three victims lay at her clawed feet as she sniffed around for the next student to maim.
Or at least that’s how it seemed at the time.
He had never seen his English teacher so angry before in all his days. In fact, no one had ever seen Ms. Plaisance this upset. He didn’t dare risk becoming the next casualty, so he waited until someone else caught her attention, said a silent prayer of thanks for that poor soul, and quietly slipped into the classroom.
Admiral, as his friends called him, found an open seat next to his second-in-command, Commodore. Commodore’s letter jacket proudly displayed his nickname on the back, surrounded by patches representing all of his state awards in football and track. Between Commodore’s athletic success and Admiral’s presidency of the student body and their combined social connections, the two of them virtually ran the school. All of the students respected them and most of the teachers recognized this fact enough to give them a fairly wide girth.
Admiral sat next to Commodore and quietly, trying to avoid drawing the attention of Unpleasant Plaisance, inquired about the success of their plot that morning. “Did Ensign cover for me?” Ensign was a freshman who worked in the office that their quartet of friends had recently taken under their wing.
“He said he did,” replied Commodore confidently. “And I haven’t known that kid to be wrong about much. Lieutenant has your homework for next period.”
“Awesome. Captain said his uncle called in sick for him, so he should be covered.”
A loud and very deliberate cough came from the back of the room, signaling Ms. Plaisance’s entrance. All heads snapped forward, no one dared to wait for the bell while in that classroom. Unpleasant Plaisance had made it clear on day one that the bell signaled neither the start nor the end of class. She did that. And no one ever forgot that fact.
No one.
What Admiral did often forget, however, was to pay attention. So as Ms. Plaisance began her lecture about some guy who wrote something a long time ago, Admiral began planning out the best way to capitalize on his actions that morning. So far, everything had gone off without a hitch. Assuming Ensign and Commodore had done their jobs, no one with any authority would be able to pin any of that morning’s activities on he and Captain, and by his calculations they were about twenty minutes from everything hitting the fan.
So if they were still twenty minutes out, Ms. Plaisance’s mood couldn’t be their fault. He casually looked over at the student who had been his unwilling diversion as he tried to enter class. She was staring unblinkingly at the board, softly sobbing. He felt a bit responsible for her current state, but rather than feeling guilty, he was simply curious. What could possibly have set their English teacher off like that? After all of their hijinks, they had never made her this angry. The idea that anyone could possibly make her angrier than he ever had baffled him.
A sharp pain in his side brought Admiral back to the present. He turned to face the board with just enough time to see Commodore retract his elbow before Ms. Plaisance turned around to ask a question. Without looking, Admiral offered his friend a silent nod of thanks for the jab that might have saved him. Hopefully, someone else would offer further assistance if she called on him. Luckily, before she could settle on a target for her question, bells started going off throughout the school, warning of a fire.
Admiral looked down at his watch. Six minutes early. Oh well.
He quickly grabbed his backpack and darted for the door before Ms. Plaisance could give her standard reproach that it was just a drill and the writings of the great Wilbur Milkshake (or whatever his name was) were far more important than a ten minute break from class. Commodore was hot on his heels with the rest of the class just behind.
Surprisingly, Ms. Plaisance didn’t seem to be concerned with getting them back into class. In fact, if Admiral had taken the time to look back, he would have seen the look of near relief on her face and her walking calmly to her desk. Things could not have been going much better.
Or so they thought.
Maybe it was simply the fact that he hadn’t been running this late in years.
He entered the school carefully. If everything had gone as planned, he was covered and would be able to walk into fourth period as if he had been there all morning. Everyone was bustling quickly through the hallways to their next class, talking a bit more excitedly than usual. He noticed everyone’s faces mixed with confusion, fear, awe, and the occasional spark of pride. He also quickly noticed that the closer he got to his class, the quieter it got.
It didn’t take him long to figure out why.
Dark storm clouds swirled about her head, flames erupted from her mouth, snakes wriggled their way through her hair, and death itself spewed from her eyes. The mangled bodies of her last three victims lay at her clawed feet as she sniffed around for the next student to maim.
Or at least that’s how it seemed at the time.
He had never seen his English teacher so angry before in all his days. In fact, no one had ever seen Ms. Plaisance this upset. He didn’t dare risk becoming the next casualty, so he waited until someone else caught her attention, said a silent prayer of thanks for that poor soul, and quietly slipped into the classroom.
Admiral, as his friends called him, found an open seat next to his second-in-command, Commodore. Commodore’s letter jacket proudly displayed his nickname on the back, surrounded by patches representing all of his state awards in football and track. Between Commodore’s athletic success and Admiral’s presidency of the student body and their combined social connections, the two of them virtually ran the school. All of the students respected them and most of the teachers recognized this fact enough to give them a fairly wide girth.
Admiral sat next to Commodore and quietly, trying to avoid drawing the attention of Unpleasant Plaisance, inquired about the success of their plot that morning. “Did Ensign cover for me?” Ensign was a freshman who worked in the office that their quartet of friends had recently taken under their wing.
“He said he did,” replied Commodore confidently. “And I haven’t known that kid to be wrong about much. Lieutenant has your homework for next period.”
“Awesome. Captain said his uncle called in sick for him, so he should be covered.”
A loud and very deliberate cough came from the back of the room, signaling Ms. Plaisance’s entrance. All heads snapped forward, no one dared to wait for the bell while in that classroom. Unpleasant Plaisance had made it clear on day one that the bell signaled neither the start nor the end of class. She did that. And no one ever forgot that fact.
No one.
What Admiral did often forget, however, was to pay attention. So as Ms. Plaisance began her lecture about some guy who wrote something a long time ago, Admiral began planning out the best way to capitalize on his actions that morning. So far, everything had gone off without a hitch. Assuming Ensign and Commodore had done their jobs, no one with any authority would be able to pin any of that morning’s activities on he and Captain, and by his calculations they were about twenty minutes from everything hitting the fan.
So if they were still twenty minutes out, Ms. Plaisance’s mood couldn’t be their fault. He casually looked over at the student who had been his unwilling diversion as he tried to enter class. She was staring unblinkingly at the board, softly sobbing. He felt a bit responsible for her current state, but rather than feeling guilty, he was simply curious. What could possibly have set their English teacher off like that? After all of their hijinks, they had never made her this angry. The idea that anyone could possibly make her angrier than he ever had baffled him.
A sharp pain in his side brought Admiral back to the present. He turned to face the board with just enough time to see Commodore retract his elbow before Ms. Plaisance turned around to ask a question. Without looking, Admiral offered his friend a silent nod of thanks for the jab that might have saved him. Hopefully, someone else would offer further assistance if she called on him. Luckily, before she could settle on a target for her question, bells started going off throughout the school, warning of a fire.
Admiral looked down at his watch. Six minutes early. Oh well.
He quickly grabbed his backpack and darted for the door before Ms. Plaisance could give her standard reproach that it was just a drill and the writings of the great Wilbur Milkshake (or whatever his name was) were far more important than a ten minute break from class. Commodore was hot on his heels with the rest of the class just behind.
Surprisingly, Ms. Plaisance didn’t seem to be concerned with getting them back into class. In fact, if Admiral had taken the time to look back, he would have seen the look of near relief on her face and her walking calmly to her desk. Things could not have been going much better.
Or so they thought.
Thursday, April 4, 2013
Chapter 2 Part 3
Franc would never fully understand the far-reaching effects of his actions that day. He honestly didn't care about any results or consequences at that moment.
Or, more accurately, he didn't dare to think about them.
He worked hard to turn his brain off and simply walk. He had never been there under circumstances such as these before, but his feet somehow knew the path to the principal's office as though they had walked it every day of his life. He vaguely noticed a teacher asking him if he had a hall pass, but this didn't even moderately phase him. He simply walked by without ever acknowledging her. The principal's secretary offered a similarly futile hindrance as he brushed by her into Mr. Hevel's office.
Franc stomped proudly and unapologetically into the office and dropped into the seat across the desk from his principal who was on the phone. Mr. Hevel looked at him with a mixture of confusion and frustration as he tried to decide how to deal with the situation.
"Nick, I'm going to have to call you back," Hevel said slowly and cautiously as he hung up the phone. "Mr. Bar. Is there something I can help you with?"
Franc smiled to himself, realizing how he must look. "No."
Mr. Hevel was stunned. He had never seen Franc like this. Something about him, something in his eyes and the way he was sitting, suggested that nothing that happened in this office, or anywhere for that matter, made any difference to him. "Franc," he said, switching into a much more compassionate tone, hoping to ease Franc into a more cooperative state, "what are you doing here? Did something happen?"
Franc's grin grew a bit as he noticed the principal's change in demeanor. "Yes."
These short answers weren't like Franc. He was usually so conversational and ready to offer more information than was needed. "Would you like to tell me what it was?"
Franc's face switched from his almost manic smile into the face of an excited young boy, ready to tell all about his adventures and battles against bad guys and monsters. "Well, Unpleasant Plaisance was being a power-drunk bitch, and I had had enough of it, so I told her," he giggled, fighting to contain his excitement, "I told her exactly what I thought of her. Then I came down here so you could hear about it too!"
Mr. Hevel was legitimately concerned now. No longer was he simply curious about his student's odd behavior. Now he had reason for concern about his mental stability . . . and the safety of his other students. Ms. Plaisance was frightening enough in the best of moods.
He tried to get a handle on the situation. "Why don't I call Ms. Plaisance, and we can all talk this out, ok?"
Franc looked at him quizzically. "No thank you, sir. I'll take my suspension and be on my way."
"Excuse me?"
"My suspension. What I did should have earned me at least a couple weeks' suspension. You can talk to the old shrew yourself if you need further confirmation, but I think you'll agree that that is the only logical punishment. I'd also rather not waste any more time here, because ultimately, we're both going to agree that it would be best for me to go home immediately."
"Well . . . "
"It's fine. Here," Franc pulled a piece of paper out of his backpack, scribbled some notes on it, and tore it in half. He set the first half down in front of Mr. Hevel. "Here's the numbers where you should be able to reach my parents. I'm gonna walk home, so don't bother asking them to come pick me up, just tell them about my suspension." He handed him the other half. "And this is a note explaining to them exactly what happened and that I'm going to be suspended for three weeks. I just need you to sign it. That way, even if you can't get ahold of them, they're still in the loop." He politely handed the principal a pen before adding a bit sarcastically, "Because we all know how important it is for parents to be involved in their children's education."
Mr. Hevel looked down at the two pieces of paper and back up at Franc.
Franc smiled at Mr. Hevel and waited patiently.
After a minute long stare-down that was much more uncomfortable for Mr. Hevel than it was for Franc, the principal relented, signed the note, and handed it back to Franc. "Thank you," said Franc pleasantly as he took the note and left the office before Hevel could get another word in.
He walked confidently past the secretary and out the front door, looking down at the note in his hands and reading it over to make sure all of this was real. Then he crumbled the note in his fist, set his gaze in the direction of his house, and started walking very deliberately. He had no intention of stopping or even slowing down until he got there.
Three weeks.
He only had three weeks, and he wasn't going to waste a minute of them.
It was time to finish his project.
Or, more accurately, he didn't dare to think about them.
He worked hard to turn his brain off and simply walk. He had never been there under circumstances such as these before, but his feet somehow knew the path to the principal's office as though they had walked it every day of his life. He vaguely noticed a teacher asking him if he had a hall pass, but this didn't even moderately phase him. He simply walked by without ever acknowledging her. The principal's secretary offered a similarly futile hindrance as he brushed by her into Mr. Hevel's office.
Franc stomped proudly and unapologetically into the office and dropped into the seat across the desk from his principal who was on the phone. Mr. Hevel looked at him with a mixture of confusion and frustration as he tried to decide how to deal with the situation.
"Nick, I'm going to have to call you back," Hevel said slowly and cautiously as he hung up the phone. "Mr. Bar. Is there something I can help you with?"
Franc smiled to himself, realizing how he must look. "No."
Mr. Hevel was stunned. He had never seen Franc like this. Something about him, something in his eyes and the way he was sitting, suggested that nothing that happened in this office, or anywhere for that matter, made any difference to him. "Franc," he said, switching into a much more compassionate tone, hoping to ease Franc into a more cooperative state, "what are you doing here? Did something happen?"
Franc's grin grew a bit as he noticed the principal's change in demeanor. "Yes."
These short answers weren't like Franc. He was usually so conversational and ready to offer more information than was needed. "Would you like to tell me what it was?"
Franc's face switched from his almost manic smile into the face of an excited young boy, ready to tell all about his adventures and battles against bad guys and monsters. "Well, Unpleasant Plaisance was being a power-drunk bitch, and I had had enough of it, so I told her," he giggled, fighting to contain his excitement, "I told her exactly what I thought of her. Then I came down here so you could hear about it too!"
Mr. Hevel was legitimately concerned now. No longer was he simply curious about his student's odd behavior. Now he had reason for concern about his mental stability . . . and the safety of his other students. Ms. Plaisance was frightening enough in the best of moods.
He tried to get a handle on the situation. "Why don't I call Ms. Plaisance, and we can all talk this out, ok?"
Franc looked at him quizzically. "No thank you, sir. I'll take my suspension and be on my way."
"Excuse me?"
"My suspension. What I did should have earned me at least a couple weeks' suspension. You can talk to the old shrew yourself if you need further confirmation, but I think you'll agree that that is the only logical punishment. I'd also rather not waste any more time here, because ultimately, we're both going to agree that it would be best for me to go home immediately."
"Well . . . "
"It's fine. Here," Franc pulled a piece of paper out of his backpack, scribbled some notes on it, and tore it in half. He set the first half down in front of Mr. Hevel. "Here's the numbers where you should be able to reach my parents. I'm gonna walk home, so don't bother asking them to come pick me up, just tell them about my suspension." He handed him the other half. "And this is a note explaining to them exactly what happened and that I'm going to be suspended for three weeks. I just need you to sign it. That way, even if you can't get ahold of them, they're still in the loop." He politely handed the principal a pen before adding a bit sarcastically, "Because we all know how important it is for parents to be involved in their children's education."
Mr. Hevel looked down at the two pieces of paper and back up at Franc.
Franc smiled at Mr. Hevel and waited patiently.
After a minute long stare-down that was much more uncomfortable for Mr. Hevel than it was for Franc, the principal relented, signed the note, and handed it back to Franc. "Thank you," said Franc pleasantly as he took the note and left the office before Hevel could get another word in.
He walked confidently past the secretary and out the front door, looking down at the note in his hands and reading it over to make sure all of this was real. Then he crumbled the note in his fist, set his gaze in the direction of his house, and started walking very deliberately. He had no intention of stopping or even slowing down until he got there.
Three weeks.
He only had three weeks, and he wasn't going to waste a minute of them.
It was time to finish his project.
Monday, March 18, 2013
Chapter 2 Part 2
Franc tried his absolute best to not wait up for Jermaine, he really did.
He was exhausted from not sleeping much over the last several weeks and from having his heart ripped out and shoved back down his throat. All he desperately wanted was to go to sleep. That was it.
He laid in his bed and stared at the ceiling for what felt like hours. He kept willing himself to fall asleep. He tried relaxation techniques, he tried counting sheep, he even tried convincing himself that everything that was going on around him was simply a dream. Nothing seemed to work. He just laid there.
And laid there, and laid there.
And laid there.
Then the moment he had been dreading came along: he heard the front door close and his brother's steps coming toward their room.
When Jermaine walked in, Franc pretended that he had been asleep for hours. He even threw in a couple of irregular snores that he knew he was prone to do in his sleep. That stopped pretty quickly, though, when he realized that he could smell his beloved's . . . Penny's perfume on Jermaine. That was the moment when he accepted his fate and decided that the only thing he could do was try to look at the bright side.
At least he always got a good night's rest when he cried himself to sleep.
The next morning passed uneventfully. He avoided talking to anyone as much as he possibly could and hurried off to school where he shuffled through his classes until he got to English . . . the one class he shared with HER.
He just hoped that Unpleasant Plaisance would have some kind of assignment that would keep him from watching his beloved . . . Penny. Her name was Penny. That fact still hadn't sunk in.
Luckily, his teacher did have an activity to keep his attention, but that silver lining came with a very dark cloud. They had a test that day that he had forgotten about.
Crap.
Ms. Plaisance walked through the class handing out the test as she explained the format. "The test consists of fifteen essay questions. Each one must be at least a page long with textual evidence to support your argument."
Franc stared at the test in disbelief. "Fifteen pages WITH textual evidence in less than an hour? You've got to be kidding me."
"Excuse me, Mr. Bar," said Unpleasant Plaisance unpleasantly. "But complaining about the test isn't going to give you any more time to work on it or improve your grade. And as I understand it, you don't exactly have much room to risk losing any more points in my class."
Apparently, he hadn't been talking to himself like he thought. Oops.
Franc looked around the room as everyone worked furiously on their tests. He deliberately avoided looking at Penny and returned his attention to his own test lest the Unpleasant One accuse him of cheating. As he tried to read the first question, he found that none of the words made any sense. He could make out the words: blue, author, historical, etc. Unfortunately, he couldn't make any sense of them when put together.
He couldn't take it anymore.
"Excuse me, Ms. Plaisance, but is it a superiority complex or an inferiority complex?" he asked rather loudly.
"I beg your pardon," she said suspiciously. A few students looked up.
"Well, a test this difficult can't possibly serve any educational value. No one could possibly complete, never mind pass, this test. If your purpose with this test isn't to help us in our education, your purpose must simply be to make us miserable." At this point, he had the entire class's attention. "That means that either you are so full of yourself and power drunk that you simply get off on making your students miserable, or you realize what a worthless piece of shit you and your class are and try to compensate for your blowoff subject by making an unnecessarily difficult class so that you feel a little less like a tapeworm in someone's ass!"
"Mr. Bar!" No one in the class had ever seen Ms. Plaisance so furious, but Franc had a full head of steam going at this point and wasn't about to stop there.
"Or maybe, the problem is simpler than that. Maybe you just haven't gotten over the fact that your husband couldn't stand what a relentless shrew you are and left you. Maybe you feel like the slowly rotting corpse of a harpy you are and misery simply loves company. Maybe, just maybe, you are so bitter about the fact that no one loves you that you can't stand the sight of anyone else's happiness!"
Ms. Plaisance's face had never been so red with anger since anyone in that class had been in High School. Her voice shook ever so slightly with the white hot rage burning inside her. "That's it . . . "
Franc held up a hand to interrupt her. "Don't worry. I'll see myself to the principal's office."
And with that, Franc Bar stood up and walked out of the room followed by the stares of disbelief, fear, and admiration of the other students in Unpleasant Plaisance's third period English class.
He was exhausted from not sleeping much over the last several weeks and from having his heart ripped out and shoved back down his throat. All he desperately wanted was to go to sleep. That was it.
He laid in his bed and stared at the ceiling for what felt like hours. He kept willing himself to fall asleep. He tried relaxation techniques, he tried counting sheep, he even tried convincing himself that everything that was going on around him was simply a dream. Nothing seemed to work. He just laid there.
And laid there, and laid there.
And laid there.
Then the moment he had been dreading came along: he heard the front door close and his brother's steps coming toward their room.
When Jermaine walked in, Franc pretended that he had been asleep for hours. He even threw in a couple of irregular snores that he knew he was prone to do in his sleep. That stopped pretty quickly, though, when he realized that he could smell his beloved's . . . Penny's perfume on Jermaine. That was the moment when he accepted his fate and decided that the only thing he could do was try to look at the bright side.
At least he always got a good night's rest when he cried himself to sleep.
The next morning passed uneventfully. He avoided talking to anyone as much as he possibly could and hurried off to school where he shuffled through his classes until he got to English . . . the one class he shared with HER.
He just hoped that Unpleasant Plaisance would have some kind of assignment that would keep him from watching his beloved . . . Penny. Her name was Penny. That fact still hadn't sunk in.
Luckily, his teacher did have an activity to keep his attention, but that silver lining came with a very dark cloud. They had a test that day that he had forgotten about.
Crap.
Ms. Plaisance walked through the class handing out the test as she explained the format. "The test consists of fifteen essay questions. Each one must be at least a page long with textual evidence to support your argument."
Franc stared at the test in disbelief. "Fifteen pages WITH textual evidence in less than an hour? You've got to be kidding me."
"Excuse me, Mr. Bar," said Unpleasant Plaisance unpleasantly. "But complaining about the test isn't going to give you any more time to work on it or improve your grade. And as I understand it, you don't exactly have much room to risk losing any more points in my class."
Apparently, he hadn't been talking to himself like he thought. Oops.
Franc looked around the room as everyone worked furiously on their tests. He deliberately avoided looking at Penny and returned his attention to his own test lest the Unpleasant One accuse him of cheating. As he tried to read the first question, he found that none of the words made any sense. He could make out the words: blue, author, historical, etc. Unfortunately, he couldn't make any sense of them when put together.
He couldn't take it anymore.
"Excuse me, Ms. Plaisance, but is it a superiority complex or an inferiority complex?" he asked rather loudly.
"I beg your pardon," she said suspiciously. A few students looked up.
"Well, a test this difficult can't possibly serve any educational value. No one could possibly complete, never mind pass, this test. If your purpose with this test isn't to help us in our education, your purpose must simply be to make us miserable." At this point, he had the entire class's attention. "That means that either you are so full of yourself and power drunk that you simply get off on making your students miserable, or you realize what a worthless piece of shit you and your class are and try to compensate for your blowoff subject by making an unnecessarily difficult class so that you feel a little less like a tapeworm in someone's ass!"
"Mr. Bar!" No one in the class had ever seen Ms. Plaisance so furious, but Franc had a full head of steam going at this point and wasn't about to stop there.
"Or maybe, the problem is simpler than that. Maybe you just haven't gotten over the fact that your husband couldn't stand what a relentless shrew you are and left you. Maybe you feel like the slowly rotting corpse of a harpy you are and misery simply loves company. Maybe, just maybe, you are so bitter about the fact that no one loves you that you can't stand the sight of anyone else's happiness!"
Ms. Plaisance's face had never been so red with anger since anyone in that class had been in High School. Her voice shook ever so slightly with the white hot rage burning inside her. "That's it . . . "
Franc held up a hand to interrupt her. "Don't worry. I'll see myself to the principal's office."
And with that, Franc Bar stood up and walked out of the room followed by the stares of disbelief, fear, and admiration of the other students in Unpleasant Plaisance's third period English class.
Wednesday, February 20, 2013
Chapter 2 Part 1
Franc couldn't believe it. His beloved mystery girl was sitting on his front porch!
He froze midstride and simply stared. He couldn't bring himself to do anything else. His knees were too weak to walk; his mind was too frazzled to think; his mouth was too dry to talk . . . or breath. He didn't realize he wasn't breathing until Tom slapped him hard on the back, bringing him back to the moment.
"Cassanova," said Tom with an unnecessary amount of pride in his voice, "why didn't you tell us you had a date?"
Tom was grinning from ear to ear, and Franc's mouth hung open. Liza, on the other hand, simply looked curious. "Franc," she said cautiously, "what is she doing here? Did you know she would be here?" Franc's attempted response failed. "I'll take your silence as a strong yes," she said sarcastically.
"Dude," Tom said enthusiastically. "You have to go talk to her!"
He was right, of course.
His dream girl was sitting on his front porch. Moreover, she was sitting on his front porch, waiting! She kept looking around expectantly as though whatever, or whoever, she was waiting for would be there any minute. Was it possible she was waiting for him? Possibly. Who else could she possibly be waiting for? No one else from their school lived on his block . . . and definitely not in his house! She HAD to be there for him!
In that moment, something changed inside him. A powerful force erupted inside his gut and flowed through his entire body. He practically radiated confidence as he set his gaze and began the home stretch to his front door and his destiny!
His thoughts were swirling. His entire life flashed before his eyes: past, present, and future.
He saw himself growing up, going through elementary practically alone. Some friends, but most of them moved away or moved on. He saw middle school where he first met Tom and Trystan. He saw Tom slowly change over that year from bully to best bud and Trystan reluctantly following along. He saw the first day that his mystery girl arrived at school. He saw scene after scene of her flipping her hair, laughing with her friends, and walking down the hall. Her montage was only briefly interrupted by their ragtag group being joined by Liza. Then it was back to her all the way up to this moment.
He saw the block, virtually empty save himself, Tom, Liza, and his beloved. He saw the houses, virtually silent save the Custer's beagle in their backyard. He saw the street, virtually abandoned save the oddly familiar yet out-of-place car sitting across from his house.
He saw himself walking up to her. He saw their first date and their first kiss. He saw them dating, going to prom together, and kissing. He saw them going off to college together, getting engaged, and kissing. He saw their wedding, their honeymoon, their honeymoon, and their honeymoon again. He saw them growing having children, growing old together, and kissing. He saw himself lying on a hospital bed and her holding his hand as he took his last breath.
It was beautiful.
With this new vision giving him confidence, he charged forward. There was no hesitation in his steps nor concern for anyone else in his mind. The only people that existed at that moment were him and his beloved.
And she was beautiful.
He reached his driveway, and as he approached she stood as if to meet him. She flipped her hair over her shoulder and straightened out her shirt. A smile spread across her face as he approached and she turned . . . to meet Jermaine as he came out of the front door.
The ground vanished, and he fell into a bottomless abyss.
He vaguely heard Liza up on the surface speaking to Tom, "Really? Jermaine and Penny? I never would have guessed!"
He could hear the doors close as the two of them climbed into the car that had earlier picked Jermaine up from school. He heard the engine start and drive away as Tom began to speak. His voice echoed into the hole, but Franc only picked up a few words. " . . . Liza . . . did you . . . name . . . fun . . . Penny."
The last word was like a rope that he grabbed onto and used to pull himself up. He came back from the abyss to land softly on the surface and look into the faces of Liza and Tom. He felt life reenter his body. Finally after all this time, he knew her name.
And it was beautiful.
Penny.
Jermaine had to go.
He froze midstride and simply stared. He couldn't bring himself to do anything else. His knees were too weak to walk; his mind was too frazzled to think; his mouth was too dry to talk . . . or breath. He didn't realize he wasn't breathing until Tom slapped him hard on the back, bringing him back to the moment.
"Cassanova," said Tom with an unnecessary amount of pride in his voice, "why didn't you tell us you had a date?"
Tom was grinning from ear to ear, and Franc's mouth hung open. Liza, on the other hand, simply looked curious. "Franc," she said cautiously, "what is she doing here? Did you know she would be here?" Franc's attempted response failed. "I'll take your silence as a strong yes," she said sarcastically.
"Dude," Tom said enthusiastically. "You have to go talk to her!"
He was right, of course.
His dream girl was sitting on his front porch. Moreover, she was sitting on his front porch, waiting! She kept looking around expectantly as though whatever, or whoever, she was waiting for would be there any minute. Was it possible she was waiting for him? Possibly. Who else could she possibly be waiting for? No one else from their school lived on his block . . . and definitely not in his house! She HAD to be there for him!
In that moment, something changed inside him. A powerful force erupted inside his gut and flowed through his entire body. He practically radiated confidence as he set his gaze and began the home stretch to his front door and his destiny!
His thoughts were swirling. His entire life flashed before his eyes: past, present, and future.
He saw himself growing up, going through elementary practically alone. Some friends, but most of them moved away or moved on. He saw middle school where he first met Tom and Trystan. He saw Tom slowly change over that year from bully to best bud and Trystan reluctantly following along. He saw the first day that his mystery girl arrived at school. He saw scene after scene of her flipping her hair, laughing with her friends, and walking down the hall. Her montage was only briefly interrupted by their ragtag group being joined by Liza. Then it was back to her all the way up to this moment.
He saw the block, virtually empty save himself, Tom, Liza, and his beloved. He saw the houses, virtually silent save the Custer's beagle in their backyard. He saw the street, virtually abandoned save the oddly familiar yet out-of-place car sitting across from his house.
He saw himself walking up to her. He saw their first date and their first kiss. He saw them dating, going to prom together, and kissing. He saw them going off to college together, getting engaged, and kissing. He saw their wedding, their honeymoon, their honeymoon, and their honeymoon again. He saw them growing having children, growing old together, and kissing. He saw himself lying on a hospital bed and her holding his hand as he took his last breath.
It was beautiful.
With this new vision giving him confidence, he charged forward. There was no hesitation in his steps nor concern for anyone else in his mind. The only people that existed at that moment were him and his beloved.
And she was beautiful.
He reached his driveway, and as he approached she stood as if to meet him. She flipped her hair over her shoulder and straightened out her shirt. A smile spread across her face as he approached and she turned . . . to meet Jermaine as he came out of the front door.
The ground vanished, and he fell into a bottomless abyss.
He vaguely heard Liza up on the surface speaking to Tom, "Really? Jermaine and Penny? I never would have guessed!"
He could hear the doors close as the two of them climbed into the car that had earlier picked Jermaine up from school. He heard the engine start and drive away as Tom began to speak. His voice echoed into the hole, but Franc only picked up a few words. " . . . Liza . . . did you . . . name . . . fun . . . Penny."
The last word was like a rope that he grabbed onto and used to pull himself up. He came back from the abyss to land softly on the surface and look into the faces of Liza and Tom. He felt life reenter his body. Finally after all this time, he knew her name.
And it was beautiful.
Penny.
Jermaine had to go.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)