Colt O’Brien Sees the Light
A Novel by George Matthew Cole
© 2009 George Matthew Cole
Published by George Matthew Cole at Smashwords
Smashwords Edition 1.0 December, 2009
Cover illustration by Robert "Terry" Smith
Print version published by DogEar Publishing 2009
Visit Author web site at georgemcole.com
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author
This book is a work of fiction. Places, events, and situations in this ebook are purely fictional and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead is coincidental.
Dedication
For those who remember the goal in the midst of chaos.
Recognition
I am fortunate to belong to a special support group made up of fellow writers. This group was formed by individuals that attended a creative writing class at Highline Community College in Washington State. The teacher, Marjorie Rommel, has a special talent for making adult students feel at ease when exploring their writing potential. I appreciate the support of the individuals listed below. Without them, the journey would have been much longer and much lonelier.
Thanks to All
Jeanette
Jolanda
Marilyn
Marjorie
Rob
Sandi
Susan
Vera
Wendy
Chapter 1
From: O’Brien, Colt[ColtOB@yahoo.com]
To: Jones, Bobby[bobbyj@yahoo.com]
Subject: Wow Computers
Sent: Sun 10/16/1994
_________________________
Yo
pcs r great am getting how they work.
we can start fixing them and make bucks
am done with sprts man Dude I stoppd growng@%$#%$#%^t$#^
later
Puddles of brown water pockmarked the soccer field reflecting the bright midday sun. The recently ended downpour had cleansed the air and the earth, leaving everything smelling fresh and pure. A large pond, about six inches deep, covered much of the center of the field. Parents, brothers, sisters and friends yelled encouragement as two teams of thirteen-year-old boys slogged up, down and across the swampy play area. All of the observers still wore ponchos, coats and other rain gear, even though the skies were clear. In the Northwest, a sunny sky did not guarantee that rain would stay away for long. The crimson and green, once shiny, uniforms of the respective teams were soaked and muddied. The players had difficulty handling the round, white and black ball in the sloppy conditions. Flying mud and water slowed the players as each tried to gain an advantage. Neither team was able to control the ball for a substantial length time. Mud holes, or the dreaded pond, created formidable barriers to forward progress. Goalies at each end of the field gazed off into the distance waiting for something to happen. It was near half-time and not one shot on goal had been attempted.
Once again, the elusive soccer ball was floating in the middle of the pond, daring any player to slap, splash, kick or cajole it into play. A tall lanky boy on the green team splashed through the water toward the soaked, leather globe, and kicked it out of the pond toward the sideline. Water splashed up, swirling around, as the saturated ball floated toward solid ground. A teammate received the pass and held the ball under his foot.
He yelled, “Atta way, Eric. Good kick.”
With great effort, the now excited Eric lunged forward toward the edge of the pond yelling, “Pass it to me. I’m open.”
The ball was waiting for Eric when he exited the expanse of water. The stork-like player methodically dribbled up the sideline. He managed to avoid the potholes and puddles, allowing him to speed past mid-field. Fans on both sidelines were surprised that any player had broken away from the pack. They started yelling words of encouragement to their prospective teams. The energized green team saw their first real chance to take a shot. Boys on the crimson team scrambled to recover and stop the tall boy’s aggressive attack. As his team attempted to adjust to this new situation, a small player wearing crimson shot away from his teammates like a fired bullet. The mud covering most of his body could not hide fierce, dark blue eyes beneath a head of jet black hair. He ran after the much taller Eric. All other players on the field seemed to be merely walking as he loped like a miniature gazelle toward the taller adversary.
From the sideline, a pretty, blonde teenage girl yelled, “Tackle, Colt, tackle the ball!”
Colt met Eric as he was making his final approach toward the goal where the now, wide-awake goalie was bracing for an onslaught. Colt’s legs moved like powerful pistons. They pummeled the ball and the taller boy’s legs at the same time. After a furious, but futile, attempt to ward off his attacker, Eric lost his footing. He fell forward, face down, onto the muddy ground as the ball skipped out of bounds.
Eric jumped up and yelled at the referee, “That was a foul ref, call it!”
The referee said, “He went for the ball. No foul. Play on.”
Eric looked at Colt and said, “Watch out, you little midget. It’s coming. You won’t know when, but it's coming.”
“Bring it on, stork boy. You’ll end up in the same place, eating mud.”
Colt walked toward Eric with a determined stare. His fists were clenched, ready for battle. The shrill sound of the whistle stopped him.
“Half time,” yelled the referee.
The tired boys trotted to the sidelines where orange wedges and Gatorade were waiting. Colt approached his sister, Kelly, and his father, Robert. Kelly, athletic, trim and blonde, was about the same height as Colt. Her pale blue eyes were a few shades lighter than her brother's. For a fourteen-year-old girl, she exuded noticeable confidence.
She said, “Did you hear me, Colt?”
“Yeah, I heard, tackle the ball,” said Colt.
“Good tackle. That’s the way I would do it,” smiled Kelly
“Could you believe that guy was flipping me crap?” said Colt.
“He didn’t like the Colt treatment. He went swimming,” laughed Kelly.
Colt smiled and started eating orange wedges.
Colt’s father, Robert, was tall, dark and commanding. His gray, perceptive eyes, displayed fearless control and a competitive nature. Specks of gray ran throughout his full head of dark hair. He carried himself like a man who was accustomed to being followed and respected. He looked at Colt with an even stare.
Colt looked at his father. Man, I can’t tell if he liked what I did or not. What the hell? It seems like I never know anymore.
Robert said, “That kid was big, but you can take him. I’ll bet he's used to getting his way. Don’t let him push you around.”
“Don’t worry about that, Dad. You saw how I handled him,” said Colt. Crap, he acts like I didn’t do anything. I stopped the goal and it’s like it never happened. What does it take?
Soon the whistle blew and the second half began. Play continued, with neither team gaining an advantage or scoring a goal. A few minutes remained in the game when the ball was passed to Colt near mid-field. He skillfully ran around the pond, avoiding defenders, as he loped toward the goal. After using fancy footwork to keep the ball away from an opposing player, Colt focused his attention toward the goal. As he increased speed, the short, feisty boy was startled by something flashing in front of his eyes. He tried to duck, but was hit by an elbow on his right cheekbone. The excruciating pain caused him to see swirling red and white, sparkling stars. The crowd groaned as Colt fell to the ground. For a few seconds he lay still. After shaking his head, he jumped up enraged, and sprinted toward his attacker. When he saw that it was Eric, who waited with a smirk on his face, he became more agitated. When Colt was close to Eric, he began swinging both arms. The taller boy easily pushed him away while laughing and taunting. Colt continued to swing his arms like a perpetual motion machine, but was not able to hit his target. His frustration grew as Eric repelled him with ease.
The referee stepped between the two boys, pushing them apart. He pulled a red card from his uniform and said, “You are out of the game, green. Get moving, now!”
Eric smiled at Colt, who was holding a hand to his sore face.
“Who’s the punk now? You are such a shrimp that you couldn’t get near me.”
Colt lunged at Eric, but was grabbed and held back by strong arms. He looked up as Eric ambled away. Colt was relieved to see that his father was there to help him. Then, he sensed something odd and became sad. As he looked into his father’s eyes, it was as if a window had opened that allowed the thirteen-year-old boy to look into his father’s mind. There he saw and felt the thoughts that he feared more than anything in life. Colt sensed disappointment behind those eyes. He knew that his father wanted more from him. No audible words were needed for the boy to understand. Colt flailed away in frustrated sadness until he was free of his father’s arms.
Through his tears, he looked at his father and said, “You don’t care about me; you just care that I am not big and tall. Well, maybe it’s not something I can do anything about.”
“But, but…,” said Robert.
“Leave me alone. I’m quitting sports forever. I’ll never win,” said Colt as he walked away.
Chapter 2
From: O’Brien, Robert[ROBrian@aol.com]
To: Norman, Ted[TNorman@yahoo.com]
Subject: Colt
Sent: Mon 10/17/1994
_________________________
Hello Ted
You asked how my son Colt is doing. I guess we can discuss this in person, but the short version is that he is not doing well. He was a great athlete but now he is only average. I am sure you can see why I would be disappointed. I can’t understand why his sister keeps getting better at soccer and Colt doesn’t. Hell, I am six feet three inches. He should be taller and bigger than he is. I am starting to think he is using his short stature as an excuse for not performing. I think you know that I won’t tolerate that.
Let’s talk soon.
Bob
Colt O’Brien sat in his bedroom wearing his soggy, soccer uniform. He looked out the window, with glazed eyes, at tiny gentle, raindrops showering down. As if in a trance, he stared, trying to block out a continuous stream of images flashing across his inner vision. He saw scenes of soccer, the face of his father, his sister, and most of all a crowd of faceless, zombie-like fans. All of the scenes were colored by a feeling of utter defeat. I’m sick of feeling like I’m a loser even if I do ok. I know I can be good at something. I’ll show him that I can be the best, even if it isn’t sports. I can’t help it if every guy is passing me up.
After a knock on the door, Colt said in a loud voice, “Nobody’s home.”
“Honey, let me in. I know you had a bad day. I heard you slam the door,” said his mother, Leona.
Colt smiled and, for a moment, his dark cloudy face brightened. At least it’s not the old man, he thought. After plopping down on the soaking wet chair, Colt looked at his mother. She was petite with short blond hair and bright green eyes that were accented by worry wrinkles. Her appearance was one of manicured elegance reflected in her subtle makeup and expensive apparel.
“Oh honey, you’re soaking wet. You need to get out of those clothes and warm up.”
The boy stared at his mother with dark blue eyes that darted from side to side. His lower lip quivered.
“I’ve been thinking, thinking a lot,” said Colt.
“Honey, I know you think your Dad is disappointed in you, but he just wants you to be happy,” said Leona, trying to be convincing.
Colt’s dark blue eyes stopped darting and peered directly at her. She stepped back a little to adjust to the glare of anguish coming at her.
“You know I can tell stuff. I know what he’s thinking. He doesn’t care about me. He just wants to brag to his friends that I can win at sports,” said Colt.
“But honey, he’s your father. He loves you, just like I do.”
“Nobody loves me like you do, Mom,” he said, smiling.
“Listen to me, Colt. You have always had what my grandmother would call the gift. I know you can feel and see things that other people can’t. It worries me that people won’t understand your special talent. Are you still having those weird dreams?”
“Yeah, I still have the dream where I see fog in front of the sun. In my dream I try to get past the fog into the sunlight, but I never can,” said Colt.
“Let’s keep this between ourselves. You may not know this, but very few people can do what you do.Your father definitely would not understand. Don’t give people reasons to think you are not like they are.”
“Don’t worry. No way I am having my friends think I’m nuts.”
“That’s settled then. Kelly said you did fine in the game but a mean boy knocked you down. There will be other games.”
Colt looked up at his loving mother and thought, I won’t tell her now, but I’ve had it with sports. Kelly can be the star. She won’t disappoint Dad.
***
Colt O’Brien sat at a table in the cafeteria of Sylvester Junior High. He looked around the crowded room for his friend, Bobbie Jones. Colt spotted the lanky boy and waved him over.
“Dude, sit down and listen,” said Colt.
The direct, soft-spoken Bobbie said, “Hi Colt. What’s goin on?”
“I got us a gig doing the computer thing. It’ll be great.”
Bobbie Jones had distinct brown eyes with light brown hair. He was thin, but not skinny. At hearing Colt's idea, his eyes became wide and he looked up in frustration. His hands tightened, reflecting the tension in the rest of his body.
“Er, uh, what thing? Man, here we go again. What did you volunteer me for?” said Bobbie.
Colt could hardly stay seated through his excitement. He smiled with a conspiratorial confidence. His enthusiasm was flowing like a deep river directly at his friend.
“The computer tech thing, dude. We will be fixing computers and stuff,” said Colt.
Bobbie looked around nervously.
“But, but, I don’t know that much and you don’t either,” he said.
“Hey, we both have computers and I know one of the tech guys. He will help us. Hell, half the time you just reboot em anyway.”
“They let seventh graders do that?” said Bobbie in a high-pitched whine.
Colt could see that his friend was not as confident as he was. Damn, I need to convince him. After a few moments of attempting to sense Bobbie’s state of mind, Colt thought, Now I know what to say.
“Listen! If we do this we get an automatic A in a class. Also, we help teachers with problems. That has to be good. You know how you like getting in good with teachers,” said Colt.
The pale, shy boy relaxed a little.
“Keep talking. I’m listening,” he said.
Colt saw his window of opportunity.
“Dude, dude, we can make money on the side instead of some dead-end job flippin burgers or whatever. We can do this. I know we can.”
“I’ll probably regret this, but okay. I wonder if I should ever listen to you.”
Colt jumped up, thrusting both arms into the air, and yelled “Yes.”
Chapter 3
From: O’Brien, Kelly[Kellyobrien@aol.org]
To: Todd, Brianna[BriannaT@yahoo.com]
Subject: Colt
Sent: Mon 1/12/1995
_________________________
Hi Bri
Wow!!!! My little brother is getting a lot of attention from the babes. They are coming up to me all giggly and shy asking if he has a girlfriend. Don’t get me wrong, I love him. But why do they have to go through me. I answer the phone when they call. Enough already.
Kel
Staci Parks looked like a young version of a shrewd politician. Although she sat in her bedroom surrounded by teddy bears, she could have been in a smoke-filled back room working on a deal. She was dressed in the coolest, most expensive clothes. Her apparel was synchronized with her light red hair and scattered freckles. The new cell phone in her hand was not affordable for most adults, much less a 13-year-old seventh grader. Her young, determined, orange-brown eyes looked out at a world of potential opportunities. Growing up in Normandy Park, she knew about what was in and what was “so not cool”. Maybe I should do more research before I call him, she thought. No, I think I am ready. Oh yes, I think I am.
Staci was the new girl at school, but it did not stop her from becoming the central player in the seventh grade social scene. She had been watching Colt O’Brien since the beginning of the school year. After finding out all she could about him, she now had a plan. For her, only the most popular and exciting boy would do. She thought about how perfect it would be if they were together. It has to be him. The rest are stupid and boring. And he lives in Normandy Park, like me. Just like Mom said, If you want something, you have to go after it.
Colt sat on the plush couch in the living room of the O’Brien home. He half listened to his sister, Kelly, as she asked him about one of his least interesting subjects: girls.
“Hey, I don’t have time for girls. For some reason they like me, I guess,” said Colt.
Kelly skipped over to her little brother and shoved his shoulder.
“I am sick of answering the phone and having some stupid, giggly girl on the other end or worse, more than one,” she said.
“What can I do? I don’t tell them to call. I’m not into the girlfriend, boyfriend thing,” said Colt.
“Well bro, you better start thinking about it. This isn’t going away. I think it would easier, for me, if you just had a girlfriend. Then I would only have to deal with one.”
The shrill ringing of the phone interrupted their conversation. Kelly glared at Colt with a knowing look as she picked up the phone.
“Hello,” said Kelly.
“Hi, is this Kelly?” said a syrupy sweet voice.
Kelly smiled a bit.
“Yes, this is Kelly. Who is this?”
“Hi Kelly. This is Staci Parks. We haven’t met, but I think you are a great soccer player.”
Colt saw a suspicious look on his sister’s face.
“How old are you, Staci?” said Kelly.
“Oh, I am thirteen. Why do you ask?”
Kelly’s face became red.
“Do you want my little brother? Is that it?”
“Well, that is why I called. But I hope we can get to know each other, too,” said Staci.
Kelly rolled her eyes and stuck a finger into her open mouth in disgust. She pushed the phone at Colt, who was looking on with curious eyes.
Staci screamed at Colt, “This has to stop.”
Colt could not help laughing at seeing his sister in such a state. Ha, ha. Is she flipping out or what? I have to see who is on the phone.
Still laughing, Colt grabbed the phone from his sister.
“Hi Colt. This is Staci Parks. We have geography class together.”
Colt racked his brain to remember who this was. Oh, it’s the new girl; the pretty one.
“Er, uh, hi Staci. What’s up?”
“I was wondering if you would answer a question I have?”
“Um, sure. No problem.”
Staci thought about her carefully planned blueprint for success. She hesitated while formulating the right words to achieve her desired outcome.
“You know, I love how you dress. All my girlfriends do, too. All the other boys are so boring, but you have a special style with clothes.”
Colt was now relaxed and listening.
“Yeah, I sorta like bright stuff.”
“I made a bet with my girlfriends about why you dress like that. If you tell me, maybe I can win the bet.”
“Sure, I can. One day I lost a baseball game. I was about ten, I think. My mom came in my room to cheer me up. She played a game where I put on the weirdest combination of clothes I could find. By the time we were done, I felt way better. So, I kept doing it, just not as weird. And, I always feel good when I wear bright clothes.”
“Oh! Oh! I won my bet. This is great,” Staci lied.
“So, you guessed right then?” said Colt.
“Yes, I guessed right. Maybe I can sorta tell what you’re like. After all, I had the right answer."
Both of them took a breath and said nothing.
Staci thought, Now to seal the deal.
“I was thinking, Colt… Maybe we could hang out together. You know, like go to the mall or something.”
Colt now was wondering what to say. No one has asked me this before.
“Er, uh, um, I’ve never done stuff like that,” he said.
“Don’t worry, Colt, I can set up everything. It will be fun, just the two of us. Okay?”
“Okay,” he said.
End quick before he changes his mind, thought Staci.
“Great. I'll call you back later. Bye.”
“Bye Staci.”
Colt looked up from the couch after noticing that his sister was sitting in a chair across from him. Crap, was she there the whole time?
Kelly smiled and asked, “Well, little bro, what happened?”
“I have a date, I guess,” he said.
“How did that happen to a guy who is not into that stuff?” smiled Kelly.
“I have no idea,” said Colt.
Chapter 4
From: Carbon, Bill[billg@hocs.biz]
To: Sweden, Gunnar[gunman@yahoo.com]
Subject: Are we ready yet
Sent: Tue 10/05/1999
_________________________
Hey Gunman
Bin studng all day til nowcan’t close my eyes without seeing test answers flyng by. bucks and music keep me goin.
I guess I better hit the sack. Are we really ready????????
later.....billgee
The October morning was bright and brisk. A black, compact, Nissan pickup truck was moving north along Perimeter Road, which bordered Boeing Field. Dark, gray banks of clouds were moving from north of Seattle toward the south. The warm sun radiated into the cab, washing a middle-aged man and a young teenager in a golden glow. Both used sunglasses to filter the bright sun. The man, Matthew Carbon, wore a canvas baseball-style cap and gray t-shirt. His son, Billy, wore a long-sleeved black shirt with yellow vertical stripes. In his hand was a tall Starbucks cup. He listened to music through small, lightweight headphones. The younger Carbon lifted his sunglasses to look at sheets of paper in his lap. His bright blue eyes were tired, but focused. A manic energy poured from them, as if it would devour anything or anyone put in their path. The pale face revealed a lack of sleep, but those eyes were very awake.
Matthew tapped his son’s arm as the first light raindrops hit the Nissan’s cracked windshield.
Billy pulled off his headphones, still staring at the notes.
“Yeah?”
“Do you have any more questions, Bill?” said Matthew.
“Do you think I’m ready? I feel like I’ve studied for a year.”
“I know you are ready. Ron and I will give you and Gunnar some tips before you go in. You have done all the right things except for getting a good night’s sleep.”
“Yeah, I crammed. I really crammed,” smiled Billy.
“If you don’t already know the material, cramming doesn’t help much. You would have been better off sleeping. The exam is two hours long. You need the energy,” said Matthew.
“Don’t worry. I have enough energy, Dad. I’m almost 15. No big deal.”
“You are probably right, but us old guys need our sleep. I guess it’s too late to worry about it now.”
A steady rain fell as the pickup pulled into the parking lot of Wings Aloft. The flight training school was situated next to the Boeing Field tarmac. The pair walked into the main area of the two-story building with its high ceiling and windows. Ron and Gunnar Sweden waited for them, smiling with excitement. Ron wore his usual suit and tie. Gunnar, who was three inches shorter than his six-foot, two-inch father, wore a white t-shirt with the word “Doom” splashed across the front. Both father and son were tall with brown eyes. They were almost identical except for Gunnar's short black hair and his father's dark brown hair.
As the men and boys met, Gunnar said to Billy, “You need to sign in at the desk. Did you bring your birth certificate and social security card?”
“I have all that stuff. It will be a lot easier when we have driver’s licenses,” said Billy.
Gunnar beamed with excitement. His brown eyes sparkled.
“Man, this will be awesome. I think we can kick ass.”
Billy also felt the excitement, but he managed to rein in the emotional team of horses pulling at him.
“Hey, it’s our first time. Let’s see what happens,” he said.
Billy walked to the front desk with a steady determined stride. He pulled out the required identification and laid it on the counter.
“I am scheduled to take the Microsoft NT four workstation test.” he said.
The short, blond, chubby girl behind the counter looked up with a friendly smile. She was in her mid-twenties, but seemed young to Billy.
“Aren’t you guys a little young for this exam? I have never seen this before. Usually, I see older guys who are out of school and working already.”
The pale boy looked at the blond girl with a hint of pride through mature steely eyes beneath a head of disheveled hair.
“I want to see if I can pass. Wouldn’t that be great? Maybe it will help me get a fantastic job some day,” said Billy.
When she heard him speak, she felt embarrassed that she had doubted the student facing her. She could feel that this was not an average person. She started to treat this customer like an adult.
“I guess since you will be testing at almost the same time, I can take you both up to show you the room and tell you the rules. When he goes in, you can come, too. I will call you when it’s time.”
“Thank you” said Billy.
Billy walked back to the other three, who were smiling while they talked. He thought about the experience ahead. He felt exhilarated and afraid at the same time. The whole idea of passing a Microsoft Certification exam was exciting. I still have to actually go into the room and do it. It will be just me and all those questions.
“Hey guys, we have about 30 minutes until Gunnar goes in. We have some things to discuss," said Matthew.
“Dad, the lady said I should go in with Gunnar to see how it's done,” said Billy.
“That’s fine. Now, listen to Ron and then we can discuss strategy,” said Matthew.
Ron Sweden stood erect and beamed. His light brown eyes exuded optimism and confidence. He pointed to a large plush couch that was situated near windows in a corner of the room. “Gentlemen, please sit.” After the boys were comfortable, he said, “Before you start, just know that we are extremely proud of you, no matter what happens. If either of you have problems with the exam today, we will do whatever it takes to help you for the next time. You will pass. It might not be today, but you will pass. We all know that Microsoft makes this bad boy extremely difficult. This is for computing pros to show that they are qualified. There are questions that are difficult for Mr. Carbon and he’s been doing this for years. This might be an historic day. No one this young has ever passed. Good luck to you both, even though we all know that you have made your own luck by working so hard. Mr. Carbon has a few words to say.”
Both boys had become increasingly confident and energized while Ron Sweden talked. Now, they were smiling and sitting erect. Each young man had the look of a well-trained solder, ready for battle.
Matthew Carbon spoke.
“I have a few tips for you guys. The first test is always the hardest, because you have never been through it before. Any questions before I start?”
“What is the hardest part of taking one of these?” said Gunnar.
“The questions are tricky. They go in one direction in the beginning and then change at the end. You need to double check to see that you actually understood the answer that they are looking for. I have some more things to tell you. First, answer every question. If you aren’t sure, answer it anyway, mark it, and come back later. Read every question at least twice before answering. If you have a mind cramp, stop to refocus. Don’t hurt yourself by getting too frustrated over one question. You guys know the material. If you stay calm, you will get enough right. And, one last thing. This is pass or fail. In the end, the score doesn’t matter.”
The blond girl came over and asked the boys to follow her. They walked behind her out the door toward the field. The fathers looked through the windows as the three walked up the stairs of a small two-story, blue building. After about five minutes, Billy and the girl came back. Billy immediately started to read through a large hardcover book and a pile of notes.
Matthew Carbon looked at Ron Sweden. The confidence he demonstrated minutes before had disappeared. His shoulders were slumped and he was staring at the blue building. Matthew could see that he was tense. As the two men walked away from the boy, Ron said, “I have been over the material. I’m not a computer expert, but it looks extremely difficult. Are these kids prepared for this? I would hate to see them fail after all of that hard work.”
Matthew Carbon looked up to the much taller man and smiled.
“This is the first exam. I made sure that they studied more than necessary. They know it inside and out. We only have the emotional factor. That is the unknown. How much pressure will they put on themselves? I think they are too young to feel it. I am very optimistic.”
Ron looked drained and forsaken in spite of the other man’s words.
“I wish I was as confident as you are.”
Matthew thought, This guy can sure turn it on when he wants, but I guess he is human like the rest of us. I never thought he doubted anything. Man, those kids thought they could walk on water after he got through with them.
Billy was now coming over. It was time for him to go in. He shook hands with both parents and smiled.
“I’m as ready as I’ll ever be. I’ve decided this is going to be fun, no matter what.”
After watching Billy walk up the stairs, the men waited. Neither man sat as the minutes oozed by like thick, sticky syrup. They walked and talked, while occasionally looking out the tall windows, through the rain, at the closed door at the top of the stairs. Although the exam was scheduled for two hours, both fathers started staring directly at the door after an hour and a half. Finally, the door opened and Gunnar stepped onto the platform. He looked neither happy nor sad, but a bit distracted. The men gestured as if to ask, “What happened? Did you pass?” Ron Sweden was especially expressive and intense. Gunnar slowly looked over and acted as if he had not seen anyone. It seemed like time stopped for the fathers. Then Gunnar smiled and thrust his arm out with a thumb up. Both men clapped and Ron Sweden jumped a little. They walked briskly to the door as the tall boy leapt down the stairs in glee.
“What was it like?” beamed Ron Sweden to his son.
“I got 820. It was ok after I stopped worrying. It took me until Billy showed up to calm down.”
“How hard was it?
“We really do know this stuff. Mr. Carbon was right. We just needed to stay cool. Billy was going fast. I think he will be out soon. Oh, and I found a question that was wrong. I gave the answer they wanted though.”
As Gunnar went to the front desk to get the official read-out of his exam score, the fathers walked out the door and waited near the bottom of the steps. Gunnar was walking up to them when the door at the top of the stairs opened. Billy walked out grinning and raised both arms into the air. The two fathers and Gunnar clapped and cheered.
Billy yelled, “I did it! I got an 800! Man, is this great!”
After the boys had calmed down a little, the still radiant Ron Sweden pulled two baseball-style caps out of a bag and handed one to each boy.
He said, “You are both Microsoft Certified Professionals now. That’s what it says on these hats. This is good; this is very good.”
Chapter 5
From: O’Brien, Colt[ColtOB@yahoo.com]
To: Jones, Bobbie[bobbiej@yahoo.com]
Subject: What the hell?
Sent: 10/15/1999
_________________________
What the hell is goin on Bobster? I saw some computer thing going on in the tech lab. Creepy snotnosed kids barely out of 6th grade were acting computer smart. That’s our room. I don’t trust them………
Colt O’Brien flashed down the main hall of Highline High School. The five foot, four-inch senior was dressed to garner attention. He strutted like he owned the town of Burien and the State of Washington. His jet-black hair, dark blue eyes and unique style of dress made him stand out. He wore purple tennis shoes, gray T-shirt, red shorts with a day-glo orange backpack that bounced up and down his back. Crowds of students were strolling between classes and talking in small groups. Colt’s rapid strides and decisive, churning arm movements made the other students seem stationary. A piercing, monotonous sound pealed through the air, causing Colt to stop. Students moved away from him as he grabbed something from his belt. He held the small, black, rectangular noise producer between his thumb and forefinger, and waved it to those around him.
“Haven’t you heard a pager before? It’s not a fire alarm. Chill out. I have another computer to fix, that’s all.”
A high-pitched male voice from the crowd whined, “Can’t you make that thing stop beeping. Isn’t there a silent mode or something?”
“Whatever,” said Colt with a shrug. “Later dude, later.”
He looked at the message on the pager which read, “911 – Mr. Towne’s computer is down - Please come to office.”
Colt thought to himself, I love being a senior; only a few easy classes to sit through. I get to save the principal of the school from his computer and from himself. He beamed with pride in knowing that he was the hero, the answer man, the tech guy that saved the day. Bringing computers back to life gave him a deep, lasting satisfaction. To most of them, computers are magic. Good for me. Nobody is as good at this stuff as I am. He was already beginning to sparkle as he pranced decisively toward the office and another opportunity to demonstrate his skills.
Colt slowed down as he approached Mr. Towne’s office. A woman in her forties with dark red hair and a friendly smile sat behind a desk. Her bright blue eyes twinkled as Colt walked in.
“That was fast. You were either close or you ran all the way,” she said.
“Hi Janet. I was close, but you know I would hustle over here anyway. So what happened this time?” said Colt.
“He said the screen went blank and never came back. He’s in a meeting. Go ahead. By the way, your shoes are my color. How did you know?”
Janet was being playful.
The young man grinned.
“I always try serve my customers well. A little color can brighten a day.”
Colt strolled into the office while removing his backpack, which he laid on the floor in front of an upright, gray, rectangular computer. He paused to look at the bulky video monitor that was sitting on the large desk above. The screen was blank. He then surveyed the computer itself and pushed a button. The box emitted a soft whirring sound for a few seconds and was silent. After about five seconds he pushed the button again. Three small lights blinked and the whirring sound started again. The computer monitor flashed on and off numerous times before Colt pushed the power button again to turn the machine off. With sure hands, he removed cables from the rear of the plain box and laid it on its side. After unscrewing the side panel, he located and pulled out a plastic electronic card that was about four inches long by three inches wide. He put the card into the backpack and walked out of the room to Janet’s desk.
“It’s the video card. I will grab one and be back in a bit,” said Colt.
“How bad is it? I’m not even going to ask what a video card is. I hate those things,” said Janet.
“No big deal. It doesn’t look that bad. I hate those things myself sometimes,” he said with eyes looking toward the ceiling.
Colt exited the office and strolled down the hall, which was now empty. At the end, he walked down a flight of stairs to the basement floor. He opened the door to the second room on the left and walked in under a sign that read TECH LAB. A loud voice echoed through the room, which startled Colt. He looked up to see four people. One person was in front of a white board that displayed black, scribbled words. He seemed to be a teacher. Three others sat at a table that was about six feet long, listening. Who the hell are these guys? They shouldn’t be in here. He stiffened and looked at the interlopers with an untrusting stare. It took all of the self-control he could muster to avoid questioning the invaders. He nodded to the group as he shuffled past them toward another room. They acknowledged by nodding back and returned to what they had been doing.
Colt pretended to be busy as he watched what appeared to be an informal computer class. He noticed the words on the white board first: TCP/IP, Sub-netting, DHCP, Host Header, and others. The only acronym that he recognized was TCP/IP, which he knew had something to do with the internet. The rest of the words were foreign to him. The medium-sized man with the booming voice wore a gray T-shirt, faded jeans and a tan baseball cap that had the word “Microsoft” sewn onto the front. He had mixed blue-green eyes, was a bit stocky, and spoke casually, but with a deep confident voice. One of the three listeners was also an adult. He was tall and slender with intelligent brown eyes. He listened, but had a confused look. His tailored suit fit him perfectly and he was obviously comfortable wearing it. Colt guessed his age at around forty-five. Next to him sat two young boys that he did not recognize. Crap! They have to be freshmen. These guys look way too relaxed. If I don’t know this stuff, then there is no way they do. They have to be punks faking it. This feels like total crap.
Colt became agitated and was becoming angry. His mind was no longer working in a logical fashion and he knew it. I better wait before I talk to these guys. They are already pissing me off.
His attention now turned to an overhead cabinet, which he unlocked and opened. An assortment of computer components and devices including mice and keyboards, were piled in a disorganized heap. Colt grabbed a computer card that was the same size as the one he removed from Mr. Towne’s PC and shoved it into his backpack. As he did so, he removed the defective card from his backpack and dropped it in a three-by-three-foot clear plastic bin that had “BAD PARTS” scrawled on the side in black magic marker. He said nothing as he scurried past the four intruders and out the door.
Janet glanced up from her desk as a Colt entered the office. He winked as he passed her, but was forced to stop when he strode through the office doorway, causing his backpack to bounce up his back. Someone occupied the chair in front of the dead computer and desk. If his teenage reflexes had not been so acute, he would have plowed into Mr. Towne.
Mr. Towne, the principal of Highline High, looked at Colt and said “Good to see you, Colt.”
His, kind smile reflected a strong affection for the young man. He felt that there was a connection between them. He was only about two inches taller than Colt and had a keen understanding of what it was like to be the shortest guy in the room. He also liked Colt’s work ethic and confidence. He was well aware of the young man’s temper tantrums, but tended to overlook them when possible.
This kid sure has talent when it comes to computers, thought Mr. Towne.
“Hello Mr. Towne. If you let me get in there, I can get you working again.”
“Thanks. I needed to hear that. I have lots of email to read.”
Mr. Towne stood up and moved away from the desk as Colt pulled out the video card from his backpack. He inserted the card into a slot inside the personal computer, turned it upright, reconnected the cables, and flipped on the power switch. The entire procedure took less than five minutes. The monitor on the desk flashed and then went black with white lines of text moving up the screen. After a minute the familiar icons and menus of Microsoft Windows displayed on the screen.
An amazed Mr. Towne said, “Thanks Colt. You did it again.”
“Glad I could help. I was wondering about something.”
“What would that be?” said Mr. Towne.
“I saw some people in the Tech Lab. What’s up with that?” said Colt.
The energetic principal smiled with pride.
“We are starting a new computer class. It’s a new Microsoft certification. Mr. Sweden and Mr. Carbon started the program with their sons. We are now making it a part of our curriculum.”
No goddam way. That's my territory. Screw these guys, thought Colt.
“Why are they using the Tech Room?” said Colt.
“They needed a temporary place. It won’t be for long, and I approved it. Tell the other tech guys.”
“What is a certification? I never heard of it?”
“I will tell Mr. Sweden that you have an interest. He can give you the details.”
“No need to do that. I was just wondering. I’ll tell the Tech Squad guys that it’s ok for them to use the lab. I better get going.”
Colt screwed the computer back together and headed for the door.
“You should check into this new class, Colt. I think it will be a good opportunity for you,” said Mr. Towne.
But, Colt O’Brien was already gone.
Chapter 6
From: Parks, Staci[sparks@aol.com]
To: O’Brien, Kelly[Kellyobrien@UW.org]
Subject: sad about colt
Sent:10/23/1999
hi kel
why can’t colt see that im as important as his stupid computers/ i miss him sooooo much/ Im sad, sad, sad XXXXXXX/
can i call and cry on your shoulder
staci
Colt sat in the back seat of the black Lexus in the driveway of his home in Normandy Park, Washington. Cold rain pelted the car’s roof. His mother, Leona, sat in the passenger seat with his father behind the wheel. Colt's parents were respected and popular. Robert was a successful, insurance executive and Leona a stay-at-home mom who volunteered for charity work. Both were an integral part of the Normandy Park social scene. His distinguished, commanding appearance was somehow in sync with the petite, attractive Leona, in spite of their size difference.
“Robert, let's get going. I don’t want to miss anything,” said Leona.
“Don’t worry, honey, I’ll get us there on time,” said Colt’s father.
Colt sat in the back seat in deep thought. His mind jumped from one topic to another: the new computer class, his ex-girlfriend Staci, Mr. Towne… I can’t keep track of all of this stuff. Man, mental overload. Slow down, dude, or you’ll never figure this out. Colt was wrestling with his latest unsolvable problem. It was a computer problem called “The Blue Screen of Death”. The symptom of the problem was that the screen turned blue and the computer stopped working or “hung”. He usually was able to restore a machine to usability, but had not been able to determine a root cause. Crap, I need to know why that happens. I can’t give up on this.
As the Lexus entered the onramp to Interstate 5, heading north, Colt sensed a change in the mood. He envisioned soft tentacles slithering over the front seat at him. They probed, trying to feel him out. He wanted to think that his mind was making things up, but he had a strong feeling it was his usual inner radar telling him something was coming. What now? And I thought I would be left alone back here.
Then, he thought to himself, Oh no, not the lecture. I really don’t need the lecture right now.
The lecture consisted of Robert telling Colt about distinguishing himself in life and making his parents proud, like his sister Kelly. She was an honor student at The University of Washington and also played on the women’s soccer team. He’d had enough comparisons to his sister to last a lifetime. Since the family’s destination was one of Kelly’s games at the University of Washington campus, he expected the worst.
“Colt, how are you doing back there?” said Robert.
“Ok Dad. I hope Kelly wins today.”
“Your mother and I have been wondering about your future. We thought this would be a good time to discuss some things.”
“Yes honey, we are wondering about what you have done as far as college? You know how important that is,” said Leona.
In spite of his mother’s loving, singsong voice, which Colt liked, he now looked at the windows and doors like a caged animal.
“Can’t this wait? I have other stuff on my mind right now.”
“Listen to me. You are a part of a family that achieves great things. Your sister has led the way. Now it’s your turn,” said Robert.
Crap, the old man is into it. My sister has what? Screw this. Here we go again.
“Robert, don’t browbeat him. He tries,” said Leona.
“I’ve had enough of his wasting time on computers. It’s time for him to grow up. The world has enough losers,” said Robert.
“What’s wrong with working on computers? Computers will change the world,” yelled Colt.
“Just stop now, both of you. This is supposed to be a fun family outing,” cried Leona.
“This is not over, Colt. I will not let you throw your life away surfing the web or whatever you do. This is not a computer game,” said Robert.
Colt knew better than to try to get in the last word with his father. After years of trying, he’d learned that his father would not allow it. He stared out of his window at gray skyline. These trips to his sister’s games were the only family activity that Colt still enjoyed. What a way to mess up a good thing. I hope this will stop now. Robert, now mad, gripped the wheel and glared at the traffic. Not a word was spoken for the remainder of the ride.
In the parking lot of the soccer field on the university campus, Robert opened the trunk of the Lexus and passed out blankets and assorted pieces of clothing. It was still raining lightly and they came prepared for anything. Colt scanned the field and the stately, orange brick buildings on the hill above. His smile reflected the feelings of hope and achievement that he always sensed on this campus.
In spite of the words in the car, the entire family felt connected by the desire to see Kelly and her team succeed. Colt soon forgot about the ride while cheering for his sister. Robert and Leona also loved competition and became caught up in the excitement of the contest. The game was especially enjoyable for the entire family. Kelly scored one of the two goals in the win. After the game, Leona waved as Kelly walked gracefully toward the sideline. She was radiant, even though most of her purple uniform was soaking wet and muddy. Her trim, athletic, five-foot, seven-inch frame, short blond hair, and sparkling light blue eyes set her apart. Colt could see why she was receiving offers to model.
“Hi, everyone. We kicked butt. Those California girls hate the rain,” said Kelly.
“Great game, sweetheart. Good goals,” said Robert.
“Oh Kelly, I was so excited. We are so proud of you,” said Leona.
“I need to get back to the locker room, but I want to talk to little brother for a minute. Can I call you guys later?” asked Kelly.
“Sure sweetheart. We’ll talk later,” said Robert as he and Leona headed back to the car.
“Hi Sis, awesome game,” said Colt.
“How is it goin? Still fixin those broken computers?”
“Yeah. You know I love the techy stuff.”
“I am getting an earful from Mom and Dad about you. And Staci called me. She sure works the angles.”
Colt flinched a little.
“Here it comes. What did they say?”
“Staci misses you and wants to get back together. She thinks computers are the problem. I think Mom and Dad will have the big talk with you soon, the future and all that,” said Kelly.
“Mom and Dad started pounding on me on the ride here, so I know what they want. But with Staci, I don’t know. Chicks, man, what a pain. Except you, of course. We were together for years and now it's like she wants to control everything.”
"I hate to tell you, but she was always that way."
"Yeah, but I could always dodge her when I wanted to before. I'm done with her," said Colt.
“I think if you didn’t spend so much time on computers it would be a lot better. You gotta have other stuff goin on, too. Time for me to go. Love ya.”
The siblings hugged.
“Bye Sis. I love you, too.”
Kelly loped across the field and was soon gone.
Colt walked back to the car thinking about the growing list of things to deal with. No way am I going back with Staci. I am sick of her trying to control everything I do. I need to forget all this crap. It’s driving me nuts.
Colt smiled as an inner light bulb blinked on. I know just the thing to loosen me up.
Chapter 7
From: O’Brien, Colt[ColtOB@yahoo.com]
To: Jones, Bobby[bobbyj@yahoo.com]
Subject: Let’s meet
Sent: 10/28/1999
_________________________
Boberto
Let’s meet at the club for rball. How about 9am sat. I need to get sane. We can talk about the little nerds and the computer stuff too.
The two friends, covered in sweat, played with abandon. Colt, the shorter of the two, moved with grace, quickness and tenacity. Bobbie, a head taller, but not as quick, still managed to keep up. He was helped by his strength and experience.
The small, blue rubber ball flashed around the racquetball enclosure, causing reverberating echoes. Colt O’Brien yammered constantly. He teased, cajoled and screamed at his friend Bobbie, who was concentrating like his life depended on every shot. The two friends complimented each other. Colt was a leader with confidence and a healthy competitive nature. Bobbie was steady and even tempered. He lived his life according to the rules. No rocking any boats for young Mr. Jones. Colt took risks while his friend played it as safe as possible.
Bobbie’s mother once said of her only son, “Does this kid ever even think about being a little naughty?”
“He will make us look like perfect parents, even if he does bore us to death,” her husband replied.
Bobby shuffled toward the right wall and waited for the blue blur to come to him. He squatted and hit the ball just above the floor. It moved so fast that Colt did not see it until it was rolling flat on the floor, the result of a perfect, un-defensible kill shot.
“That’s game,” said Bobby.
“No way! You aren’t good enough to beat me. Are you sure you got the score right?" said Colt.
“Don’t get into your act, man. You know I won. It’s all tied up. Are you ready to stop or what?”
“Quit? I don’t think so, Bobbysoxer. I’ll beat you, even if you do get creative with the score.” Colt had fire in his eyes, but smiled as he turned away.
Bobby’s body tensed and his face reddened. “Creative? That’s bull! You keep score then! You keep score! Let’s see what you’ve got, Colt. I’m ready. Bring it on!” he yelled.
Colt won the game as he had expected. He exploited a weak spot in his friend's defenses to gain an edge.
Oh dude. You fell for it. Man, you are so easy.
“Dude, dude. You lost your focus. How could that happen?” laughed Colt.
Bobbie looked at his friend with a hint of anger and respect.
“You got me again. If you didn’t play those mind games, you’d never win.”
The young men had danced this dance for many years. The relationship worked because each was comfortable with his own role. There was a special blend of character traits between them that manifested as true friendship.
“Bobinator, let’s get latte’d up and you can tell me about this new computer thing,” said Colt.
“After getting me so mad that I lost, you can buy,” said Bobbie. He knew Colt was attempting to smooth out the emotional terrain after baiting him, yet again. The sting was almost gone, but he didn’t think that Colt needed to know that.
***
The Burien Starbucks near the Athletic Club had opened doors for business a few months earlier. People were lined up in anticipation, waiting to order lattes, cappuccinos and other assorted coffee beverages. The little café had become a social center of this little town near Sea-Tac Airport, as had other stores in other towns across the Northwest. A sense of cool permeated the air along with the aroma of roasted coffee.
The boys ordered and after waiting for about ten minutes, grabbed their sugar-laced drinks and found a place to sit. Colt spoke.
“I’m really sick of getting pushed around. My parents think I am slacking on the school stuff. My dad said computer guys are losers.”
Colt felt a large release of frustration after expressing his feelings.
“I am enrolled at Western for next year. Why not go there with me?”
“I’m into computers. You know I am sick of school. I want to do computer work,” said Colt.
“I want to make money and have stability. My parents say no degree, no money,” said Bobbie.
“I see this is going nowhere. You sound like my mom and dad. ”
Colt realized he would get no support from his friend.
“Hey man, it’s just common sense. I’m going to college. What about the Staci thing? Is that really over after being together so long?” asked Bobbie.
“It’s done. She wants to control me all the time. And she is getting on my nerves. It took a while, but I’ve had enough.”
"Man, you were together a long time."
"I think she had our lives planned out for the next twenty years. Only problem is she forgot to ask me," said Colt.
Colt changed the subject.
“So, tell me about this new computer class. Where did it come from?”
“I talked to Jimmy Gruber. He tried it out. He said you study like a dog and then take tests. It’s some Microsoft thing.”
“If he can do it, then it has to be easy. I love everything about Microsoft, but I’ve never heard of this,” said Colt.
“Jim said it was harder than hell. He tried one practice test after wading through pages of stuff and totally bombed. He ran for cover, man. No way I’m doing it.”
“What about those punk kids I saw in the Tech Lab?” asked Colt.
“It was started by two freshman kids and their dads. It must have been them. I guess one of the dads is into computers. Jim said he taught the classes,” said Bobbie.
“So, you are telling me that those punk kids have passed some of the tests? How could they?”
“I think they have. Jim said that Mr. Towne thinks this will put Highline High on the map. He calls it High Tech Learning or something. They are getting some publicity already and a few kids are trying it. They hold classes wherever they can and there is a lot of self-study.”
“What are the tests for? Why are they so hard?”
“I think it’s for something called NT and network stuff. I don’t know much about that, just Windows on PCs,” said Bobby.
“Hey Bobster, we know computers. It can’t be that hard. I haven’t done anything with that either, but I can learn it. They will be asking me for answers in no time. I am still the number one computer guy.”
Bobbie leaned forward and looked directly at Colt with raised eyebrows.
“I know you were the best, but it looks to me like the competition has arrived.”
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