SYSTEM*PRODUCTIONS PRESENTS:
THE PAST FORWARD
BY
BRIAN C. WILLIAMS
EDITEDING HELP BY
MELINDA HAROLD
BLOODWASTE BOOKS
The sale of this book without its cover….well, is, sort of, impossible since it really does not have a cover but let us go through the legal spray out anyways. If you purchased this book without a cover, you should be aware that it was reported to the publisher as “unsold and destroyed.” Hands up to you who have books like this in your collection? Now that I have put my hand down we can continue with the credits and copyright and legal and stuff that people just do not ever pay attention to unless it is pumping their own horn.
An Original Publication of BLOODWASTE BOOKS
A Bloodwaste Books book published by
System*Publishing, a division of System*Productions
Melbourne, Florida
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead or living dead, is entirely and very much so in the coincidental.
Copyright © 2010, Brian C. Williams, System*Productions. THE PAST FORWARD and all related titles, characters, and elements are trademarks of System*Productions. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. While unauthorized reproduction is sometimes needed, please remember us writers types are for the most part a poor lot just in search of a ways to tell our stories and enough money to add to our Doctor Who collections….well, at least that fits me.
First Bloodwaste Books ebook edition December 30th, 2010
For more information on The Past Forward, the artists who contributed to this book, and The Tin Universe please contact System*Productions at billy.was.here@gmail.com
Edited by Melinda Harold and Brian C. Williams
Photography by Brian C. Williams
Dedicated to
Mar, someone tell her I dedicated this to her. Then she might read it :)
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Melinda for editing help, Mar for not killing me in my sleep, the cats for the dreams. This books will have never been possible if not for my friends past and in the now: Wave, Mo, Shortfrie, Alia Sun, Brave Summers, Tankgirl, Oracle, Speede, July, Touch, Calm, Ghost, and for those I forgot to mention just give me a good swift kick the next time I see you.
a little from the
STEREO
PREFACE
In this book, this universe, this world, this reality, this Earth upon which the stories of this book take place are much like our own. Much like our own but different in a few noticeable ways: Different in the sort of ways brothers are different from one another and sisters are not. The way cats are different from one another but dogs are not…
PROLOGUE
2009
Petra, Jordan
He is not at all comfortable with being in this heat. The being born part of his life happen on Victoria Island in the Western part of Canada, some nice weather there. Living there a person is always able to wear a jacket, even in warm times. Right now he would strip if he had a chance to do so and drop into a pool of cold water.
The youthful years of his life with his father were spent fishing the Grand Banks of Newfoundland after his mother left him with his father during one of his summer visits.
He could have been happy in the Navy for the rest of his life considering he spent more time on the water than on land.
As a young adult he entered the military. Soon he found himself in a Special Forces unit sitting around waiting underground for someone with superhuman abilities to go insane at the world, a certain someone whose name starts with a P.
During his time in Special Forces is where he developed a great love for music and reading, taking into consideration that that was just about all he had to do while playing military gofer sit and stay.
After the thoughts of that operation temporally died he got a transfer to London where at least it was a rainy sort of cold. That was a few more boring years spent listening to conversations about baseball, Leonard Nimoy, and the price of gas. Some spy stuff too.
Have you heard of the phrase “mind numbing boredom”? The movies would let you think a spy would never use such a phrase, as usual they are wrong.
He asked for a transfer to less boring.
He got a transfer to less boring.
He is standing in front of the Ed-Deir monastery on one of the hottest days of the year. One of the hottest days registered on temp anywhere in the world and he was waiting for a delivery. Standing around waiting isn’t very 007.
His body is beginning to think he may run out of sweat at any moment.
The area was secured and cleared for this meeting by other members of his unit. The Norah are the kind of military black ops unit that scares you by how much people don’t know about them. Some of the things people don’t know about them: What does their code name mean? Who do they actually take orders from? And what mission statement is the unit truly following?
The day before this HOT one he was in the middle of a group of refugee camps mixed in with a million plus Palestinian refugees trying to find either someone who speaks English or even American, to find something to do while his men were out setting up today’s events. His importance required him to stay put in a secure place and when Palestinian refugee camps are considered an out of harm's way place, the other place to a center sit sounds downright terrifying.
He didn’t find anything to do and ended up back at his camp on the Jordan River listening to the latest from the music industries factory of disposable pop culture. His unit rejoined him one less and with their mission in hand, “All this way to wait for someone to tell me something. Having an unlisted cell number just makes things difficult.”
He was ready to drift off into the good old feeling of prickly heat in his pants when he noticed someone walking up the path towards the Ed-Deir, in his general direction. You guessed it; the individual looked like he stepped out of a market in Syria. Well, a market in Syria depicted in hidden racist fashion by the latest Hollywood action movie.
When the new arrival was within spitting distance of him he could smell something diffidently not of any Souk he ever walked through. This person had just eaten the Coronal and as far as he could recall the nearest KFC was in Australia. This lingering scent meant this individual had the pull to pull power and push power and get him to Jordan very quickly and without any sort of red tape hassles.
The stereotypically dressed individual looked over Agent Peak, ‘You’re sweating?’
‘It’s either your charm or maybe the heat.’ Agent Peak pauses, glares, and pushes his bottom lip out with his tongue, ‘It’s hot.’
‘It is.’
‘Well? You said you had information on him. Do you or are you just here to hold hands with me?’
‘He has a daughter.’
‘That’s information not worth an original Go-Bot. She has a fucking Social Security Number.’
‘But do you know he’s pawned her?’
‘Does she know what her family tree is knee deep in?’
‘From what we understand, yes.’
‘So he is going ahead with his plans since he was finally able to produce a female heir?’
‘The movements we have seen him make of late show that things look to be going that way. If they need she’ll be the sacrifice to control the next Pledge.’
‘So what’s our direction?’
‘Stay put for now. You will be signaled if things seem to be getting out of hand.’
‘And we come in and clean up?’
‘That is what you Norah guys do best. It only hurts everyone if anyone controls that power again.’
Only a few thoughts passed through Agent Peak’s mind as the walking movie stereotype walked away from him and not one of them had anything to do with his actual mission direction.
‘Stay put he says.’
He sighed and put back in his ear buds to blast some old school T.L.C. as he made motions to gather his team to his position. Now they start planning how not to go nuts waiting here for what could be their home for a few days or years. This is whats hard on his thoughts.
CHAPTER 1
You may have heard of me if you closely follow your local news, the local news if you live in Central Florida, or watch clips of other people’s local news on YouTube.
And that’s so sad.
I live in Melbourne. No, not in Australia, weren’t you paying attention? I live near the place where that thing fell from the sky and went all Deep Impact into the Sunshine state? They made a nice documentary called Stereo about it, well, that’s what I was told happen. I only have the documentary and such and others to go by because I wasn’t really able to notice even something happening as big as that in the state.
You may have caught mention of me if you have an online news feed addiction that you have been scrolling through over the past year or there is even more of a chance of you having heard of me if you pay regular visits to the best blogs, with the best blogs always being those that fall into your attention or those of your friends, and no I’m not talking about the cat ones. Those blogs with photos of cats with junk on them should be banned for being too cute for their own good.
Too Cute for Your Own Good should be made into law.
I’m too cute for my own good CUFF ME AND TAKE ME AWAY!
My sister just told me that sounded wrong?
My sister is wrong.
And since I was speaking of the law, before my sister tried to insert her perverted mind into my thinking, paragraphs like I’m doing in this introduction should also have a law against them to keep it from taking up the position of starting a book and driving an editor to snort Wonka Fun Dip. Glade I’m a character, grammar and spelling aren’t my problem though I’m aces at that sort of thing.
It’s your entire fault Brian, Right there, in your face.
I am “Coma Girl.” There I said it, which seems silly to me to type, and the few times I have spoken it out loud it was overly surreal, even if it is in reference to me, personally, direction of the “I” that I am, and those events that make up the origin of Coma Girl did happen to me, but it still doesn’t get any easier to think of myself along those lines.
Check out the free Cut Chapter: School Of The Blind for a little dip into my brain.
There was a lot of “me” up there. Please don’t get the idea that I’m an ego maniac. Though to note, it is cool that I get a dollar for every Coma Girl t-shirt sold. Who else has t-shirts sold with their face on them? Ok, in the age of Cafépress almost everyone, buuttt I’m getting off track here, back to the track. Florida Yesterday calls me, “The Woke up from Coma Girl.” One of the many home town free papers called me, “An Maple Accident.” These publications excel at communication and the use of the English language.
They should hire some hack to write for them.
…uncomfortable pause…
Either of those descriptions I just pointed out (forget the “accident” one) or my grandma’s, “Our Miracle Child” get on my nerves. I am not a “child” and “girl” is used in much the same fashion as calling a woman a bitch because some redneck thinks she opened her mouth without a nod from him in permission that she can speak. It’s the under 18 form of bitch if you ask me. I am a person of 15 years of age, close to the 18 years of life point, and I deserve respect beyond being called a “child” or a “girl” no matter the situation it’s being used in.
There was a little of my sister in my righteous indignation there.
But I am Coma Girl, that deserves respect. I know how to speak Dharuk, Polari; and Sotho, Do you?
Not that it does me any good because I’m still going to have to take French.
Sorry for another crazy group of writing there. It is not an easy thing to write an introduction to your life events. Breaking the fourth wall and all aside this just isn’t starting out that well. So much for any best sales lists. I’m afraid I’m going to come off really bitchy in this introduction so I’m trying to be witty. I guess I’m not very good at it? When someone calls my sister a bitch she takes it on with pride, I need some bitch pride, though when it does happen to her she usually walks away with the title in pride after punching the proclaimed statement maker between the eyes.
I’m not much of puncher. I don’t think Nancy Drew or Shirley Holmes ever punched anyone.
My heroes.
My sister has a criminal record…well, several. Yes, that did come out of nowhere. I might have “sister issues.” Do you know she once peed on someone’s windshield, a windshield that was attached to a formally brand new SUV which belonged to a very up the nose sort of person. The vehicle owner was a local councilmen who called her “mildly retarded” during a town council meeting about shutting down two local libraries, all in the poorer areas of Melbourne of course.
My sis is a gem.
Maybe I shouldn’t have told you about her having a record?
She’s giving me mean looks right now.
Back on the number seven train, meaning getting back on track, besides coma related names I go by Gail Busiek. When I was young… younger, a child, my mother would sometimes call me Gail Ellen Busiek when shouting fo…well, at me, which is hilarious since I don’t have a middle name. Moms tend to do weird things with your name when searching you out for punishment. My sister’s “only when she was in trouble middle name” was Crowe. Yeah, we haven’t been able to find out why?
Ever since I came out of the coma things have been a little strange. Not strange in ways such as me coming out of it named Ellen or with the ability to see through walls or find out there are two worlds, one of my subconscious and one of our world. Nor do I have psychic powers and a love for walking sticks. All of those are interesting things to have in your story but not relevant here, just more of my wondering brain.
I do not remember anything from my two year hospital stay in a coma state. If you look up Coma you will find that it says: a coma (from the Greek κῶμα koma, meaning deep sleep) is a profound state of unconsciousness. When I told my sister how proud I was that I was something “profound” she also reminded me that I went into a coma because of head trauma, “You were in a brain dead empty bottle state.”
“You fell out of a tree.”
That’s her.
It is a special kind of love we have between us, myself and my sister.
“Then you feel down some steps.”
She’s a flea market gem.
On the Ranchos Los Amigos Scale my head bonk was pretty bad. I do not recall anything from the year it happen. The RLAS is a more complex scale; which is one of those medical scales that confuses even genious like myself. The scale consists of eight separate levels, and is often used in the first few weeks or months of coma while the patient (which was me) is under close observation, when shifts between levels are more frequent.
But I go on with details, don’t want to Bore You Into A Coma…
… I thought it was funny…course all of that Ranchos stuff could be complete bullocks because I looked it all up on Wikipedia. Plus Ranchos Los Amigos sounds way too much like a meal deal at T-Bell.
My strange out of the coma strangeness has me coming out of all of it smarter than how I went in.
Way smarter.
Like Dougie Howsier smarter, (old school Neil Patrick Harris for those who don’t watch reruns, and wasn’t that the best How I Meet Your Mother episode when he did his computer journal at the end?)
Many doctors have poked and studied me and decided something just clicked in my brain but no matter the how now I know things like: The Redtail Chub has a habitat of living in rocky runs and pools of creeks and small rivers. I know this though I have never been fishing in my life. Explain that?
I also know stuff like: In 1494 Henry VII’s position was strengthened by the passage of Poyning’s Laws and the fact that Neil Diamond was a fencer or maybe…?. I think I heard that last one on House the other night? Mom is in love with Wilson and watches it all the time.
Things seep into my brain from passenger side life viewing. Most of the doctors who have studied my brain have the opinion that I have a sort of total and uncontrollable recall of information which has entered my brain in passing. I’m sort of a super-computer with a glitch.
I’m a glitch.
“You’re most defiantly a glitch.”
That’s close to bitch?
My sudden level of intelligence brings out for the most part one reaction from other people, they become haters. I got that from watching wrestling one night with Jeff, my sister’s best friend. Jeff is cool and you will like him. Watching pro-wrestling is one of his many amusing inconsistencies.
After taking a special test I will be skipping ahead to my junior year of high school; which is something my older sister Karen is not the happiest about, though she will not say anything, a sister knows though, gem she may be.
So I guess we need to get on with things for this book because the writer is tapping his watch for me to wrap things up here with this introduction.
Here comes “Coma Girl” high school,
Here comes “freak brain”,
Here comes the future editor of Doctor Who Magazine,
“Karen, does this shirt say junior?”
“That shirt says I’m a spaz who dresses like a comic geek.”
Gem.
“Do you know some scientists think the moon may contain large mineral deposits of diamonds and gold?” Gail
“Stop the random facts!” Karen
“Like how Jim Parsons would have been a better choice for the new Spock?” Gail
“YES!” Karen
“That was more opinion and needless pop culture referencing than fact.” Jeff
“Both of you, STOP!!” Karen
CHAPTER 2
In this book you will find people saying things like:
‘I’m old enough to make my own underwear choices.’
And
‘Can I kick your ass and it be ok if the E.R.A. passes? I’m a supporter if you say yes.’
And you will probably find way too many pop culture pitch outs.
Anything else on the high or low brow measures is highly due to delusions of grandeur on the part of the writer.
CHAPTER 3
2010, August
Melbourne, Florida.
‘I just don’t get what getting upset about it accomplishes? You can’t change a whole fucking language based on mistakes at the beginning when people hadn’t even invented vowels yet?…..had they?’ Jeff
Jeff said those thoughts to Karen sitting on the Busiek’s living room couch beside Karen and Gail; while playing on the TV was a BBC documentary on a comic book writer with a beard way past mad.
Gail downloaded the documentary from a website and burned it to a DVD for them to watch tonight. She is always planning out video viewing nights and such for her family, Jeff included, which also sometimes includes her creating flyers and email notices to give to everyone about what they will be watching.
Jeff is usually the only one who shows up for her DVD nights but tonight Gail was actually the only one watching anything. Karen and Jeff were text messaging people on their phones while talking to each other.
Plus, Gail made Jeff a copy to take home with him for later.
‘And please don’t go off on me for not understanding,’ Jeff added to his previous line of thinking.
Karen flipped her phone closed, ‘Sexist language and assumptions are so underlined in our society that the fight is just as much to get people to see what the problem is than to change how anyone speaks. And before you say anything about it being “generic” or “universal” that just pisses me off further because that’s like saying universal is male and if you look at nature, that just ant so.’
Jeff thought about talking but a look from his best friend told him no.
‘I have to look at text books that habitually speak about “his car.” I hear about how in America anyone can be anything “he” wishes to be. Universal? Fuck that, “All men are created equal.” “That’s one small step for man.” Am I the only person this pisses off?’
Gail paused the documentary with Mr. Moore standing on stage alone and stood up,
‘You know there is a place in Virginia where you could use the gender-neutral pronoun, co, and no one would blink an eye. There are also reports of students in London using, yo, as a gender-neutral pronoun.’
‘Wikipedia?’ Jeff
Gail sticks out her tongue at Jeff, ‘If I’m not mistaken this is referred to as Epicene pronoun usage.’
Jeff looks at Karen, ‘I bet she aint mistaken.’
Karen shruggs her shoulders as Gail coutinues, ‘Epicene pronouns have popped up time after time in some science fiction over the years. Not to mention internet instant message usage in some circles is quite common. There are people who think this totally liberates us from dependence on the masculine, “his.” English has been oversimplified over the centuries.’
Karen and Jeff look at her, Jeff with a smile on his face, Karen slightly amused.
‘What?’ Gail asked in response to their facial reactions.
Karen stood up to go into the kitchen, ‘Sister you are like a complicated squirrel.’
Gail sat down beside Jeff, ‘Was that an insult?’
‘It came from your sister.’
‘HEY!’
Gail got up and followed Karen into the kitchen, ‘Why do you go out of your way to be an ass to me.’
‘Maybe because you go out of your way to make people think you’re smarter than me.’
‘I am. That hypnosis and view by others is acceptable to me.’
‘You are a spaz in the sense of being worthless to anyone except mom and dad.’
‘I would like to thank you for this distinction.’
‘Aaaaaah!’ Karen charges out of the kitchen, ‘You can’t even be normal when arguing.’
Karen sits down beside Jeff on the couch as Gail goes into her bedroom.
Jeff decides to change the tension, ‘I want some Goddamn popcorn.’
‘You insult my religion with your use of God in vain.’
‘Bring me some notch-roundeye-squasho popcorn.’
‘That fake edginess is sickening.’
Jeff shrugs his shoulders, ‘And you being a bitch to your sister isn’t saint worthy. I love you but you’re more than a little harsh with her.’
‘We’ve had this talk before Jeff. I’m glad she’s not dead but she’s not dead and I don’t have to be nice to her and everyone can fuck off who thinks otherwise.’
CHAPTER 4
Jeff hates it when Karen goes off to take a shower and he is left alone in her bedroom. One reason is that he’s always tempted to go through her collection of photos of Willow from Buffy and that would just setup feelings of wanting to be alone and then Karen would reenter the room and then confusion sets in.
But for the most part he gets uneasy in her room alone when she showers thinking her parents for some reason, even though they know nothing is going on, think that he is some sort of sex seeker in their oldest daughter’s bedroom.
He is, just not for their oldest daughter.
Gail walks in eating an Oreo ice cream, ‘Sis in the shower?’
‘Yeah,’ Jeff was sitting at Karen’s computer desk, ‘I don’t have the chops for daily bathing myself.’
Gail sits down beside him on the floor scrunching up her nose, ‘It’s brutality for us all.’
Jeff non-accidentally pushes a folder off the desk to not so gently land on Gail’s head.
‘Watch it,’ Gail says rubbing her head, smiling.
‘Is that some form of self-deception to say that actually hurt?’
‘No, my thoughts are just pain censors of their own.’
Jeff sniffs the air to catch the faintest smell of watermelon, the scent of Karen’s body wash.
‘Shouldn’t you be off doing something scholarly, Scholastic Brain?’ Jeff asked
‘My enhanced intelligence does not make me a halo of school work,’ Gail answered.
‘I believe your thought processes have a splinter down the middle. You remind me of a small, less teethy, female version of Tom Baker.’
‘That’s a titanic comparison there Mister.’
‘You would love to wrap yourself into a Time Lord identity.’
‘Better than being a cyborg.’
‘Who mentioned cyborgs?’
‘Union Jack?’
‘Dude, even I’m getting lost in this geeky conversation.’
Karen walks into her bedroom wrapped in a towel, ‘Geeks, I’m surrounded. Gail, get out, we are heading out to buy the new Special Special edition of The Doors and you are not invited into our plans.’
Gail leaves with, ‘I know the differences between The Big Bang, Oscillating; and Steady-State Theories.’
Jeff turns around in the desk chair he was sitting to face Karen who was sitting on her bed, ‘I think she just called you stupid.’
Karen, ‘I think she’s a little asshole.’
‘Gail’s a blue chip stock, she is scary smart now, and even you have to admit that?’
‘Pain in the ass smart is more like it. Do you want to watch my old edition of The Doors before we leave?’
‘What is wrong with your taste in movies.’
That was a statement, not a question.
‘How do you get away with calling us geeks when you are going to buy a special Special-Special edition of a Blu-ray when you already own the bare edition, the VHS, several DVDs, and even the laser disc?’
Karen leans into Jeff’s face as they both are smiling waiting for it, ‘Because you still have your Doctor Who underwear from when you were five years old, and Gail knows the names, and has them in a little journal, of all of the actors who have played Cybermen. You two are distinctive geek breed onto yourselves.’
Then she flashes Jeff, ‘I just want Val Kilmer to see these.’ And walks back to the bathroom as Jeff answers her, ‘Yeah, but have you seen him lately? Picture a beached manatee. Not textually Simon Templar lately.’
CHAPTER 5
You might think having a father who is a restaurant owner, one time fast food fry cook. And a mother who is a professional cook, author, one time cooking television show host, would signal gourmet eating for Gail and Karen around the clock each and every time they sat down to the family dinner table for a meal such as breakfast?
You might think this and be very, very wrong.
Janet Busiek does not swim the way of bringing work home, that’s unhealthy. She goes swimming in a course of opening canned grits and sometimes gets the bowls, bringing them to the children she loves oh so much at home, and to put the these activities in a different zone from everything else in her life.
Right now early in the morning before heading off to school Gail and Karen are just staring at their mother whose sitting at the oak and iron table their father picked up on a trip to Liverpool a few weeks ago. He’s always buying things that need to be shipped later when he travels internationally with his life. For the most part purchases which make his wife’s head shake.
‘What?’ asked Janet to the puzzled looks currently on the face of her teenage daughters?
The daughters picked up their bowls in comedic unification and looked them over like aliens looking at a ferret and then they looked at each other with wide playing eyes.
‘You opened our cans?’ was a question from Karen.
‘So?’ Janet
‘You got our bowls?’ was a further question from Gail.
‘So?’ Janet again.
‘Are you feeling ok mom?’ the daughters chorused.
‘You two inherited your father’s smart ass mouth,’ she smiled, ‘But you both got your IQ’s from me,’ pointing to her brain as she said that.
She exchanged more fake playful smiles in the faces of her daughters, ‘Have a good day Young Ones and I’m leaving your presence now. Talk among yourselves.’
After she was gone from the house by the way of the kitchen door, Karen turned to Gail ready to spit a few smart ass comments, ‘Did mom just call us an overrated British sitcom? I can’t stand that show.’
‘I don’t think they call them sitcoms in Britain,’ Gail responded.
‘Hush coma brain, it was a joke. How come you went into the hospital cheerleader girl and woke up a love child of Bill Nye and Mark Waid?’
Karen stood and carried her bowl into the living room to watch the morning traffic reports leaving Gail in the kitchen.
From the kitchen younger sister shouted, ‘Call me a geek all you want but you have the complete run of Mark Waid’s Flash issues!’
An aggressive response was shouted from the living room, ‘Get dressed quick little sis or I’m leaving you here. A wreck already has traffic backed up on Babcock Street.’
Gail knowing her older sister ran for her bedroom in a blur.
Karen’s car was not speeding down one of Florida’s most congested roads. In a perfectly boring fact her vehicle was only doing five mph in what was congested crawling traffic.
The crawling was overwhelmed by the appalling nature of way too many SUV’s moving all around them. A fact that Karen had already noted and noted with more than few four letter words.
Inside the barley moving mini Gail was being irritated by something of her own, her sister’s choice of music, ‘Do we have to listen to Ani all the time? I like her but why can’t we mix in a little something “anything else” every now and then?’
Karen put her head on the steering wheel frustrated at the slow progress of the traffic, ‘The question ought to be, should I have given you a ride to school at all?’
‘If you didn’t I would have to walk stupid.’ Gail spat out at her sister with such confidence in her comeback.
‘And they call you a genius. Keep what you just said in mind. Think on it and contemplate your navel.’
Gail slowly nods her head yes in a understanding answer to Karen and then she turns up the volume on the cars mp3 player and begins to mockingly sing fanatically like a little folksinger fangirl on crack.
CHAPTER 6
Franz Kafka High School is Melbourne Florida’s only school not named after an astronaut or president.
And it a damn brand new school.
Ok, that is not true but it is close to being the truth about it being the only school not named after an astronaut or president.
At least for this reality it is close to being the truth
The school’s name itself is a mystery. It’s not every day when you will find an American high school, in a largely conservative community, named after a German, Jewish, writer, whose sisters died in a concentration camp, and he himself died of starvation from the effects of tuberculosis.
The three large structure buildings of the school is totally aboveboard, honest; don’t ask questions, it’s not safe.
Plus I haven’t thought of all of the details yet.
One big truth about F.K.H.S. is that there is absoultly no parking for anyone outside of a few faculty and staff. Everyone else, as everyone else means all of the studant body, have to park across the road from the school campus in the Ryan-Mart parking lot. Good thing it’s a small school or Colin Ryan probably wouldn’t allow it. Plus allowing the usage was good company PR.
After a bit of driving, up and down rolls, Karen and Gail find a space.
‘Who was the genius who built a school with only 15 parking spaces?’ Gail asked that with this being her first time seeing the newly built school.
‘I think the architect went to F.I.T.’ Karen
‘You know if that burn was in a comic book, no one outside Florida would get that reference.’ Gail
Karen stares at her sister, ‘In what way does information roll around inside your head?’
The sisterly banter continued as they exited Karen’s car and started their walk towards the school.
To me during mornings at schools the scene looks like ants arriving at a sugar hill from fifty different directions in one different group after the other.
Besides the groups there are the singles. The individuals students without friends to group with, or wait for, trying to fade away into nothing so someone doesn’t notice how alone they are until the first bell rings and they can merge into classes. The same approach is used for hallway endurance.
One of the individuals bumps into Jeff who was walking still wiping the sleep from his eyes from his cats waking him six or seven different times during the night. Jeff recognized him as Albert Wallander. A normal by all means teenager by appearance who use to also attend the same school Jeff and Karen attended before seven schools combined into F.K.H.S. and two other new schools.
Jeff’s first thought was how sorry he already felt for Albert. Even at their old school Albert didn’t fit in and always was in survival mode day in and day out. F.K.H.S. consisted of a selected group of students from the closed schools; some called it the best of the best but more like the chosen of the masses. Albert was chosen because of his father being the schools grounds keeper. He thought he was doing his son a favor, he wasn’t.
Albert quickly told Jeff sorry and hurried off to find somewhere to blend in within all of the groups. Jeff didn’t even get a chance to say it was ok before Albert disappeared into the mass of bodies. He tried to trigger a reminder in his head to ask Albert about Naruto if he saw him later because he remembered him being a fan of the series.
Jeff’s sleepy head forgot about Albert though pretty quickly and went back to rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he was waiting to meet Gail and Karen at the main school entrance. His last name is Borges by the way and if you spotted him walking down the road you would probably describe him as normal and skinny, though Karen describes him with the following words: senstive, painter; and owner of a British Shorthair cat named Emma and a Bombay cat named John.
Gail just describes Jeff as cool and odd. She likes how he doesn’t edit himself and from a young mind, even a genius that’s cool. The odd comes in the things he likes, loves, and enjoys an that’s everything from pro-wrestling to Greek poetry. And there are those odd Russian t-shirts he wears.
He is a little absent-minded also so he came to the first day of the new school year without any school supplies or his books. Though that absent-minded tag is something others have put on him and he goes along with for laughs. He plays the stupid act at times also with self-defecating humor. If he was completely honest he would tell you the only reason he goes to school at all is to hang around Karen and observe people.
Jumping back a sentence or more Jeff does not describe himself because that would be more than a little weird and there are enough big egos in this book already with more to come.
Jeff and Karen have known each other since kindergarten and were good school friends but became best friends when he was busting tables at her father’s resturant. During the summer he works full time there but because school is starting back he is back to a part time schedule of weekends only. He has become a part of the Busiek family having no family of his own and is paid the same wages daily by the family even though he is only working weekends in a deal he made for painting the resturtant and redesigning all of the funiture.
Jeff has also become a big brother type to Gail, ‘Look Coma Girl’s sporting the Darlek tee.’
‘It’s Dalek,’ Gail responded with a smile knowing Jeff was joking with her.
They have bonded over a mutal love of British science fiction. A bonding which now has migrated into a weekend bonding ritual which makes Karen have several fits of nausea while they pop in DVD after DVD.
Karen put her arm around Jeff’s shoulder, ‘Maybe you should be her shaperon and escort? I sure don’t want to be around her this much on my first day of classes.’
‘Hey!’ Gail said angery, ‘Right here walking beside you.’
Karen did not even turn her eyes to her sister, ‘I noticed. Now go to the principal’s office and get your schedule. We will meet you in the lunchroom in an hour.’
‘But where…?’
Karen angrily interrupted, this time look straight at her younger sister, ‘Offices to the left and follow the signs to find the lunchroom. You are Einstein Coma Girl after all. You shouldn’t have any problems finding simple locations should you?’
Jeff was ready to say something but Karen drags him away by the arm leaving Gail standing in the scrambling herds of the hallway traffic alone.
Jeff stopped Karen’s pulling of him ten or twelve lockers down the hallway and got into her face, ‘Beyond harsh?’
Karen rolled her eyes, ‘Well, she isn’t in a coma now.’
She walks away from Jeff in a march, ‘I’m over the whole feel sorry for her deal. Way over it.’
CHAPTER 7
Gail closed her eyes as all of the people hussled and hurried and probably another “H” word around her, past her, and smellingly too close to her. Her last school was a really small school and this crowding feeling was the same she gets sometimes when she’s in Ryan-Mart. Most of the time she’s fine but sometimes when they go there she starts to feel, not claustrophobic, but still kind of claustrophobic?
The halls were crammed with hope, fear, and fear. It’s the same old, same old of high school angst. People dressed in young emotional states of preepy, goth, slut, emo, jock, the stereotype of your pick is there for your viewing pleasure. Most want a fast track to some kind of youthful identity that will make them feel happy. The road to those identity searches are paved with unpleasantness and pain and most when they arrive at the end of the road will find nothing about the same time someone tells them they’re an adult and need to get past trying to find out who they are.
For a moment all Gail could think about was the accident and that’s sort of pointless since she does not remember anything about it. She is almost living within a nothing thought as this passage of time passes. The only thing she knows about what put her into a coma was what her parents and Karen told her.
She was told what happen when she finally came out of the coma. The story goes that her and Karen were playing in Wickam Park when Gail climbed a tree and fell and hit her head. A rather 1950’s thing for her to be doing climbing a tree. Karen went to get help but in the meantime Gail recovered enough to stand up, stagger off, and fall down a set of high cement steps that lead down to the mini dog park. The nice lady who worked checking dog tags in the mini park held her until the ambulance and her sister found them.
As she daydreamed about head, crash, hurt, coma, the only other thing to enter her audio focus was the sound of footsteps, the sound of loud heel, toe, heel clipping footsteps. This was high heels against new school floors, the sound of money.
Why had this become her thought focus?
Destiny?
Gail opened her eyes as Joanna Osip ran face to face with her at a pace that knocked them both on their ass.
A very cliché movie scene that was and I really can’t believe I wrote it, nor the fact that I was able to spell cliché first attempt....ok second attempt…SHUT UP!
When she first started in kindergarten the teachers called Joanna Osip the little albino rich girl. Some people have no feelings at all but that also has a lot to do with the very nature of being around so many young minds for so many hours out of the day. You want to film a documentary on cruelty, set a camera secretly in a school for a year or day.
That is was too deep of a topic to get into here.
Karen even admits with delight to starting the mantra many called her in 3rd grade, “Whiteout Stick.”
The next year after 3rd grade Joanna was hardly recognizable to anyone who knew her. She started then and still does go a long way everyday to change how she looks. Her hair color is keep to a dark brown but not too dark, the designer outfits she wears cover most of her body, and it is hard to catch her without sunglasses on.
Karen once called the way Joanna dresses as a self-hatred form of racism but more important pure racism on her families’ part for encouraging her to try to hide who she is at each opportunity. No wonder she has a hard on hate for most of the rest of the world.
What most do not know about Joanna and her family is the illegal and painful skin darkening treatments her parents put her through on summer breaks. The treatments didn’t work even in the slightest but to make Joanna learn how to deal with pain on many levels.
Joanna was ass on the floor in the hallway of the school after the hallway collision like a tossed to the side Barbie as Gail finally got a full look at the person she had collided with. Her first thought was that she had just knocked down Malibu Stacey.
Joanna slapped away Gail’s reached out hand, ‘God, you stupid people should be shot!’ Joanna shouting caused everyone in the halls to stop and look at the crash scene, ‘Every last one of you dissidents to good taste, lined up against the nearest Goodwill and executed.’
Gail handed Joanna her handbag, frightentened about how fast she is screwing up on her first day in high school. Her heart was beating so fast she was starting to get sick. She did not want to start school this way was the rapid verse repeated over and over in her head.
‘Sorry,’ was the best Gail could think of to say out loud.
Joanna looked around to snap everyone’s eyes away from her and then she looked Gail over like she wanted to dissect her with a small melon baller. Matter of fact she probably would have done so if given the chance since the collision ripped one of the straps on her new pair of high heeled shoes.
Joanna made another pass setting her cold stare in Gail’s direction. Then she looked her over up and down, ‘Tennis shoes, jeans. Shopping across the street are we? A geek t-shirt and right out of the gate the year shows me pathedic personified. You really should boycott the Easter sales at Ryan-Mart dear.’
Joanna is the Queen senior class princess of the school and where you find Joanna Osip you will also find Lisa Rowe, her junior in walking preppy attutuide, her lacky if you need it said that way.
Lisa helps Joanna to her feet. She patted non-existent dust off her cloths once Joanna was standing upright shifting into a stature of nasty grace.
‘What happen?’ Lisa asked.
‘The ugly here happen,’ Joanna pointed at Gail, ‘Stepped into my path like a cripple just off the bus. They should embargo these.’
‘They should keep her in the band storage rooms with the other retards,’ Lisa said in support like the good tumble weed that she pretends to be.
Then in unison Joanna and Lisa walked off together as if Gail did not even exist. Joanna shoved her books into Lisa’s hands, ‘She’s probably a voucher transfer.’
Gail gets angry watching them disapear into the unherded hallway. From behind her a calm voice speaks, this moment needed a calm voice, ‘Joanna hasn’t been right since your sister hit her with a Sloppy Joe in first grade. I think she has been running on anger every since that moment. Maybe anger and Victoria Secret?’
Gail turned around to see a young woman standing there about the same height and weight of her older sister but dressed like a model right out of an issue of Gothic Beauty who was showing off a sense of Victorian vampire fashion that rivials patroints of The Beautiful Mind club in Vancouver where she was known by name on sight.
Gail was puzzled thinking she knew this person standing in front of her, but mostly her brain keep saying, “Cool cloths,” over and over. The pressure of the day must be interrfering with her total recall.
You know how it is for us normal people, you meet someone knowing you know them, but you can not even remember their name or anything else about them, and hoping, and praying nothing comes up in conversation that will let the person you should know “who they are” know that you can’t for the life of you remember who they are. It is as aquaward of a situation as a first kiss.
‘You know my sister?’ Gail asked the person who she should know the name of who dressed very cool.
‘We use to be friends when you were barely walking.’ She picks up Gail’s trapper keeper giving it a glance before handing it over, ‘Spaced? This has to be bootleg?’
Gail starts putting pages back into the trapper keeper which were poking out from the sides ready to fall from it, ‘Yea, I got it online. You’ve seen...?..’ She stops talking when she sees the person who was standing in front of her was no longer there.
Gail turned around and now the goth girl was behind her.
‘You should probably try to avoid Joanna and Lisa or they will become a pain to your life.’ was directed at Gail and the stylish person walked away.
As she walks away Gail recalls a few memories fast and a name, ‘Fox?’
CHAPTER 8
Although it was the first day of classes and it was pretty busy as the classroom was filling fast with students claiming spots for the year for this period of Ms. Dry’s art class, Victor San was still finding enough time to remind everyone out loud how last year he had scouts from some of the biggest colleges come to see his games.
He also had time to start to bully Albert out of a chair the shy ginger haired young man had quickly found in the back corner of the room before Jeff tapped him on the shoulder and ignoring Victor completely moved past him and started talking to Albert. His actions sent Victor and his friends to sit up front where even Ms. Dry could see him doing absolutely nothing in class.
‘Hey, Albert.’
‘Hey, Jeff.’
Jeff was ready to sit down in the seat in front of Albert when he noticed Karen had came into the room after a last second run back to her locker and was sitting down in the other back row corner seat on the other side of the room.
Jeff turned back to Albert, ‘We should talk Naruto at lunch one day. I’m just now getting into the series. I’m going to head over and sit with Karen. Hope your first days cool.’
Albert nodded and pulled out a notebook from his backpack to nervously sketch in until class started.
Jeff felt back but knew Karen wouldn’t sit with Albert. She always thought he was really creepy calling him a, “School shooting waiting to happen.”
Victor watched Jeff cross desks in the middle of the room to get over to Karen. He was talking to his friends about how he should have kicked Jeff’s ass when he pushed his way between him and Albert. But even his friends agreeing with him to his face knew that’s not how things turned out last time he had a throw down with Jeff.
There were other students standing by and sitting at their desks wondering just what this school was going to be like and really what it would be like to fail an art class because that might be a scar not only on their permanent record but a scar beside their name in the book of life. Though all of them knew beyond first class, first day nerves, that art classes were usually easer to ace than gym.
I myself never failed an art class.
I did fail gym once but that wasn’t my fault.
Funny the only person really afraid of failing the class was Jeff, ‘What class are we in again?’
Karen is his best friend and most knowing when it comes down to how much bullshit he is releasing into the world and how much truth. There is truthful bullshit also but that’s just complicated.
‘This is why you always do bad in art classes. You have this stick up your butt that your too good to be drawing trees and fruit baskets.’ Karen
‘I am.’ Jeff
‘No shit, you should be teaching this class but it’s not helping your GPA any if you fail.’
‘I don’t have a stick up my butt by the way. I’ve passed that phase. Too many splinters anyways.’
‘Bad joke alert.’
‘You sounded like Gail right there.’
‘Shut the fuck up alert.’
‘Don’t even for a second act like I’m the only one not happy about having to take this class, you go together with art like…?...?’
‘Well?’
‘I don’t know... me and having to take a freaking art class.’
Ms. Dry came in and closed the door just as everyone was finally finding their seats. Before saying anything she starts handing out sketchbooks and art pencil packs to everyone.
‘Who ever made the deal with the Devil to fund this school deserves extra praise. Go Devil Worship.’ Jeff
Ms. Dry was either trying to be the cool teacher or the sexy spankbank teacher by sitting up on her desk and crossing her legs, ‘I’m not going to surprise you people in this class. Nothing off the wall..’
‘Nothing worth doing.’ Jeff
‘...what I am going to do is give you a fundamental understanding of what it takes to create art.’
‘I would learn more about art in my sleep.’ Jeff
‘Only because you have exotic dreams about Van Gogh naked.’ Karen
‘It’s the ginger hair. It drives me nuts.’
‘Is that why you were talking to Albert?’
‘Give the guy a break. Not everyone can rage against the machine like you do.’
‘I will pose no questions to you as your teacher. I will give you no answers. I will give you...
‘Empty sketch pads and pencils, man Disney should give her an award. High school art classes are like Congress. They are always there and always have been but what’s the point.’ Jeff
‘You only say that because you actually don’t know what Congress does. And you should really be careful about referencing the mouse, those ears are huge when it come to lawsuits.’
‘Oh, go three finger Minnie.’
‘That jokes as old as that old drawing of Bart giving Maggie the pacifier.’
‘I need a drink.’
‘You don’t drink.’
‘I need drugs.’
‘I’ll give you something after class.’
‘Most boring class in high school and they give it to a teacher named Ms. Dry to teach.’
‘And this is how this class is going to go day in and day out for the whole year. You complain, don’t do your assignments, I mother hen you, and you make boring political comments or old jokes that you probably don’t understand.’
‘Just like when you’re on the rag.’
‘I hate art classes.’
‘I hate art classes.’
Ms. Dry slides off her desk and circles around it to sit in her seat. She pulls her copy of the class textbook from her bag and opens it. She looks out and around the class at her students, ‘So you’re going to love taking this class.’
Art classes.
CHAPTER 9
The Busiek family does not like Principal Carol as a whole. See here comes what some would call a bit of back-story. My old Philosophy teacher would have called that sentence a sort of repeating the essay question to fill half the page but you know what? I really liked my old Philosophy teacher and agree with him on most things.
Bit of back-story or just story. The Busiek family has had a long tradition of being sent to the principal’s office or just ending up there for one reason or the other. To be honest most of those times were not of the pleasant type.
Well, this one isn’t either as no one is on the verge of being hit by wooden boards or being expelled. Gail just has to put up with a media or just attention in general attention seeking Principal.
The only thing Gail was paying attention to in the whole room was a set of books Principal Carol has bookend on his offices window ledge, five books on finding fame in the modern world.
‘What do you think about the campus Gail?’
Gail froze for second because he phrased that question like used car salesman and it gave her a little chill. He raised his eyebrows waiting for an answer.
‘Everything is very new.’ And right away she knew that sounded more than little smartass and she had not intended for it to. She didn’t even want to do this meet with him on her first day of classes, being already nervous enough, but her mom said she should do it and maybe he would leave her alone for the rest of the year.
Her dad just wanted to tell him to fuck off because Principal Carol has set up interview after interview with local newspapers and Tv broadcasts and anyone else who would listen about how his New school would also be the school that Coma Girl would be attending.
Not to mention the hundreds of calls he made to their home; which only stopped when Karen explained what a necktie torture was.
‘I hope your family sees that I only have your best interests at heart. You are our little minor celebrity here and I just want the best for you.’
She didn’t know what pissed her off more. That he was the only reason her name keeps popping up in news stories or that even with his slight obsession with her he called her a minor celebrity.
‘I hope you will not only take your required classes but take part in many of the extracurricular activities we will be offering. I’m sure the cheerleading squad would like to have you on the team. I’ve seen videos of you cheering and you were pretty good.’
Just a little creepy that last bit was.
CHAPTER 10
Standing by a friends locker is a place of conclave and rebellion against all of the wrongs that have happen the night before school, during school so far, what may happen after school, and how they could or should escape from all of the stress of having no rights or freedoms under law, even though a lot of them may be of the age already to die for their country, no matter what blasted minded things their government maybe up to.
Karen was standing by Jeff’s locker planning no rebellions as he puts away his newly purchased in the school supply store for way too much notebook. She hasn’t even opened her locker yet today, carrying everything around with her in an oversized book bag and using Jeff’s to store everything else she needed, much to his unlike.
‘I’m just saying less American Eagle would not hurt you,’ Karen said that while poking Jeff in the shirt. She coutinued her line of thinking, ‘I’m going to go all stereotype here, even though you are very much as lesbian as any man can be, you really should know mostly lesbians shop there.’
‘What about Old Navy, I shop there?’
‘Gay boys.’
‘I want to call you a cynic but I don’t think that word means what I want it to? What’s bringing on this discussion about the clothing styleings of Jeff today anyways because frankly it’s creeping me out a little?’
‘It’s better than talking about Gail. I’m so fucking tired of everyone asking me about my sister today.’
‘Only Ms. Dry brought her up. Way too early doors for this don’t you think?’
Karen slams the door to Jeff’s locker and walks away leaving Jeff to comment in a mocking tone, ‘That’s not healthy for the sisterhood!’ as she moves off in anger.
Then he noticed Michelle Reid walking by.
Attraction is about the survival of the species right?
‘Nothing like a girl walking by to push your happy levels back up.’ Jeff
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