Welcome to my story...again. This is a rewritten version of my other story, Something Wicked This Way Comes, which is still up if you want to read that. that. The first few chapters (about three or so) follow very similar but really goes off from there. I want to thank my annoying betas, Chrissy and Diana, for forcing me to continue writing.
"Tell me a bedtime story, please," Tess said hiding in her cocoon of stuffed animals, "I want to stay awake a little longer. And Charlie wants a story. And-and it will help with the thing." She was still too wired from her day; a story was the only thing that was putting her to bed. Timmy sighed and folded his lean body into one of her chairs. He began to stroke the little girl's hair.
"Just one, Tessie, then you have to sleep. This isn't going to be like the time we were up until three o'clock in the morning reading the whole of The Bad Beginning."
"I know, you still have to read me The Reptile Room, you promised."
"I know I did, but you fell asleep in Art Class the next day. Remember? Head right into the paint. We were cleaning blue out of your hair for like six hours."
"That wasn't fun."
"Exactly, so one story," Timmy looked around the room for something to base his story off of before he got a better idea. "This story is about a boy named Mike, who lived alone with his parents. No siblings, not too many friends, and his parents were always away. One day, Mike wished more than anything to not be lonely anymore. And he got his wish. Venus and Kramer, they came to him to be his family. They took him to other worlds, and planets, and Mike had more friends than he thought he'd ever need. Until one day he met someone more important than all of it. A little baby named Maisie, and the second Mike saw her, nothing else was as important as caring for her. They had just lost their parents, and Mike was the only one left to care for her. So Mike had to make a very important decision."
Tessie was basically already asleep, but Timmy continued to stroke her hair, until she was fully unconscious. He got out of the over small chair, and planted a kiss on her forehead. Picking up one of her fallen stuffed animals and removing her glasses, Timmy left his little sister's room.
He crossed the house, passed his room, and passed the room where his grandfather, Pappy, slept soundly. Timmy slipped down the stairs back to the living room where his best friend, Trixie, was waiting. She was stretched out on the couch, her small frame somehow taking up most of the space. Timmy walked over to one side of the couch and pushed her legs off to make room. Undeterred, she put her feet onto Timmy's lap and kept munching on Timmy's chips.
"Get Tessie to sleep okay?" she asked, not looking up from her comic. Timmy looked over to her, passed her crossed knees, catching the curve of her neck before landing on her face. Trixie was trying not to get caught peeking at him, she wanted to say something. "I know she gets those dreams, and tomorrow being tomorrow can't be easy."
"She doesn't even know what tomorrow is, Trix. Can't mourn what you never knew," Timmy looked up at the ceiling, and sighed deeply. Seven years his parents had been gone. Bastards hadn't even had the sense to die and give Timmy closure. Just up and left one day. Like an eleven-year-old boy could care for a house, and a six-month baby all by himself. Timmy had no clue how he even survived the weeks it took his fifth grade teacher to find him. Pappy had come all the way from his home three states away to live with them. But still every year that day comes around and he feels like that angry eleven-year-old again.
"She hasn't started asking questions yet? She's almost seven."
"I don't think she wants to know, Trix. Tess just doesn't seem to care. She seems to think she grew from a flower to be my little sister." Trixie moved her feet off Timmy and sat up. Smoothing down the folds of her skirt, she looked sternly at Timmy.
"And how are you, Peaches?" Timmy looked angrily at her, then grabbed the remote and turned on the television. He tried to watch whatever was on, but he could feel her looking at him. He let out a deep sigh,
"How long have we been friends, Trixie?"
"Five years, doesn't answer my question."
"In those five years have I actually expressed a desire to talk about Barnaby and Rebecca? I know the answer, I haven't. I'd like to pretend that they didn't exist and that we were grown from flowers too."
"Timmy, it's okay that you're still angry. You got dealt a pretty shitty hand in life, it's only natural. If you need anything, I'm right here, Peaches." She started to stroke Timmy's hair, like he had done to Tess just minutes ago. That's all Timmy needs, and he curls down, laying his head on her lap. He didn't say another word, he just let her stroke his hair.
"I still have dreams about that day, you know," Timmy finally said, "I think about what would have happened if I hadn't come home right after school, and Tessie would've been left alone for hours." He starts stroking her bare knee, and takes another shaky breath, "Sometimes I imagine what would've happened if I had left school early that day, if I would have been able to catch them before they left or changed their mind about leaving. If they'd still be here. Tessie doesn't even know what her family looks like,"
"Of course she does!" Trixie said, her hand stopping. She fingered a small chunk of Timmy's hair, "Her family is you and Pappy. You're her whole world, and don't forget it." The stroking resumed and Timmy could feel himself starting to drift.
In his last few moments, he hears himself say, "Something just feels different this year." And then the darkness surrounded him.
Timmy walked through a long, narrow hallway surrounded by nothing. He could only see a few feet ahead of himself, not left or right or behind. He could only go forward. Eventually the hallway ended at a mirror. Tall and strong, the mirror looked extremely old and seemed to be bolted to the wall. But it was not Timmy in the reflection. At least not Timmy as he should be. The tall, lean eighteen-year-old was replaced by a ten-year-old boy in the mirror. Timmy at ten years old, same pink cap, buck teeth and everything. It was like seeing a ghost.
Behind Timmy were three dots: one green, one pink and one purple. They were getting closer to the glass, as if they were going to burst from it. But the closer they came into focus, the more it hurt Timmy to look at them and the more he couldn't focus his eyes on them. Pain searing through his head, he looked down at his younger self. The child held one finger to his lips, then pressed his hand to the glass. Timmy reached for it, and just when their fingers met, the glass shattered. Three colored orbs blurred past, but the younger Timmy was nowhere. A dark doorway lay where the mirror once stood.
In the distance Timmy heard it speak, "Why am I awake? Awake, awake. I'm awake!" Then, so quietly Timmy could barely hear it, "The stars are so pretty." Then a laugh could be heard. It's unlikely Timmy would forget something as terrible as that laugh.
Timmy shot up with a shout, and looked around. He was back in the living room, and it was morning. He reached over to grab his phone and checked the time. Six AM. He had been asleep for six hours, yet it felt as if he had gone to bed seconds ago. He looked around, surprised that Trixie seemed to have left in the night; he figured she'd just crash in the guest room after everything.
Suddenly came the soft patter of his little sister's feet on the stairs. He could hear Tess softly singing. She got to the living room and stopped short when she saw he was awake, "What's the word, hummingbird?"
"Morning Tessie." He said with a yawn, ""What are you doing awake so early? It's, like, six in the morning."
The brunette looked down at her small socked feet and sighed, "I had the dream again and Charlie didn't think we should stay in the bedroom."
Timmy didn't need any more than that to pull Tess back into a hug. He was familiar with her nightmares and her imaginary friend, and knew it was really all he could do for her. After about a minute, he pulled away, and asked her, "Pancakes?"
Now that thought made the child perk up nice and quick, "Pana-cakes!" she cheered, pulling her brother by the hand to try to get him to move faster, "Come on big brother, pana-cakes!"
Timmy laughed at his excitable little sister, "Come on, Tessie, go wake up Pappy, gently. I'll get started on them." With that she took off hurrying back up the stairs. He picked up his pink sweatshirt from the coffee table, and tossed it on over his pajamas, before heading out to the kitchen himself.
Today was the day, seven years his parents had been gone. Maybe this year they'll send a postcard from wherever they ended up, Timmy thought bitterly. He imagined his parents laying out on some beach without a care in the world, and not a thought spent on the children they had left behind. The thought filled him with anger he had to push down, focusing on starting the pancakes. They had Pappy now, and Pappy was amazing. Timmy found he loved living with Tess and him more than he had ever loved being with his parents.
But Pappy would be hard to wake up from time to time, so Timmy took out the ingredients for pancakes, and got to work while he waited for them. Suddenly he got the feeling he was being watched. The hairs on the back of his neck standing up and the compulsive need to turn around and look for someone. Timmy got this feeling a lot, but like now, there was never anyone there. He sighed, and began to make the pancakes. Reaching for the milk, he poured it into the mixture only for red liquid to come out instead.
The boy screamed at the top of his lungs, and tossed the offensive carton to the side. Blood spilled out all over the counter and floor. Timmy back peddled away as quickly as possible, tripping over one of the kitchen chairs and falling to the floor. Pappy ran into the room, holding his cane as a weapon, with Tessie rounding behind him holding a stuffed elephant and a fire poker.
Timmy stared at them for a moment, mouth gaping like a fish, when he finally gasped out, "Blood."
"Where?" Pappy asked, "Are you hurt?" He dropped his cane and started checking his grandson for some form of injury. Tessie had lowered the fire poker, and pulled her stuffed elephant to her ear. Timmy started to motion towards the area, but Pappy said "There's no blood on you. Where is it?"
"Charlie says the blood's over there, Pappy." Tessie said softly, still looking off to the distance. Pappy turned his head in Tess' direction, then towards the spilled blood. Except, it wasn't there anymore.
"Timmy, you spilt the milk," Pappy said concerned. He walked over to the counter, "Tess go grab a towel, I can't get down that low anymore." Tessie lingered for a minute longer, before sharply turning and leaving the room. Pappy looked over to Timmy, obviously wanting to talk. Timmy still sat on the floor, still gaping like an idiot. Pappy sighed, and began, "Sport, if you aren't feeling up for heading off to school, well you and Tess are free to play hooky. I'll even skip out on heading to Shady Pines for Bridge, we can see a movie. I hear they're having a Star Wars marathon down at Bohmer Plaza. You always loved those movies. Just like your Great-Aunt Gertrude, she stood in lines around the block on opening nights for every movie. Dressed as Princess Leia. Even at sixty years old. And…"
"You don't have to Pappy. I'm fine. Just a little tired." It was then that Tess came back in with arms full of fresh towels and her fire poker. Suddenly Timmy didn't feel like being around his overly loving family at the moment. "I'm heading off to school early today, got to see a teacher. Then I have work after school, so I wanted to know if you could drop Tess off at ballet on your way to the center."
Pappy still looked like he wanted to talk about it, but instead said, "Of course, I'll take Tess. The young girl who teaches her class is always so sweet to me, offering me treats." Timmy laughed, and moved to get plates for the pancakes. Maybe he could spend a few more minutes. He rose from his seat, about to make an excuse to leave when his grandfather asked him to stay and help him clean up the kitchen. Timmy knew that it wasn't a request though. He was talking to trying to fill up the dishwasher as fast as possible when he heard his grandpa clear his throat.
"Timmy, I know it must be hard for you, today of all days. And I know I don't always make it easier. I know how hard it must have been to grow up without your parents, wherever they've gone, and me and Tess here," The speech was awkward and practiced, but Timmy knew Pappy meant every word, "You've grown up good without them. Probably better than you would have if they had stuck around. You're a great kid...man now. Eighteen, a job, decent in school, a phenomenal big brother to Theresa, and—and as a grandson to me. And..."
"Pappy," Timmy cut him off, "I have to get ready for school."
Pappy smiled lightly, "What I'm trying to say Timmy, is that I'm really proud of you." And with that he walked out of the room, probably off to watch the reruns of The Twilight Zone or Pyramid, or any of the other old shows he loved so dearly.
Timmy walked up to his room and checked his phone. He had convinced his grandpa he was fine today, now all he had to do is convince Trixie. She was going to be a slightly harder sell than Pappy. He wouldn't be able to just worm his way out of questions.
At least I could try to push it back for a bit, Timmy thought. Telling her he'll talk to her at school. She won't be totally happy with that, and she can probably tell he was trying to push back the conversation, but Trixie wouldn't stress it. With that out of the way, Timmy hopped and took a quick shower, and got ready for school.
An hour later, he was prepped and off for school. Timmy threw on a cap, and climbed into his car, and off he was. The bus would be picking up Tessie in a bit, and then Pappy was off to the senior center to hang out with his old buddies. Everything was set. All good. No it wasn't.
Timmy really didn't need to be at school early, and in truth, probably still wouldn't be on time to class. But that was less do to not being in school, and more of getting distracted. Either way I'm here, Timmy thought as he pulled into the parking lot.
He scanned the school grounds, looking the same as they did every day of the year. He passed over the group of potheads who hung out mostly on the school's lawn and only came to class to occasionally amuse the other students or sleep. Timmy's former bully, Francis, and Chester, once one of his best friends, were both prominent members of that group. Timmy could even see Chester now, laughing and Timmy averted his eyes quickly, moving on. His eyes moved passed the table of tech heads AJ now resided. Passed the jocks (decent enough people when they weren't being douche nuggets), and the nerds (lovely people when they weren't bitch nuts). The geeks (read: creeps) and the banks geeks (different than regular geeks as they were more popular and usually high). Drama kids, where his former friend Sanjay chose to hang out (would it be cliché to call them dramatic?).
Then there was the Hipsters, who did annoy him from time to time. The constant party animals, who always annoyed him. There were the ultra-recyclo-vegetarian environmentalists, who constantly pissed Timmy off. The protesters, protesting something new every week; this week they were protesting the ultra-recyclo-vegetarian environmentalists, which Timmy understood. The gangsters, the wannabe gangsters, the freaks, the class clowns, the future business leaders, the preps, the slackers, and everything in between. Anyone else was just normal, or a loner. Timmy missed the days when everyone was normal, and they weren't all split up.
He headed over to the benches where his friends hung out. Being best friends with Trixie had its perks and Timmy was now one of the beautiful elite, whether he wanted to be or not. There were Tad and Chad who were off to the side, staring off into the distance. They were pretending to be too cool to even talk to each other, like they could communicate with eyebrow raises and nose touches alone. Missy was sitting on the bench, reading from some book. Veronica had taken a break from hanging out with the cheerleaders to skulk on the edge of the group, obviously looking for Trixie. Where is she anyway? Timmy thought, she's usually here by now. Timmy glanced at the others, though they mostly ignored him in favor of looking cool and detached. Nonetheless, Trixie strolled up to the group minutes later.
She didn't look like she had spent most of the night sitting on an old couch with him. She was dressed in a loose purple tank, a black jacket, and a striped skirt. Timmy tried his damnedest to avoid looking at her face, but eventually his eyes drew him there. Her face looked calm enough, but it was easy for Timmy to spot the compassion in her eyes. She entered the group, and joined Timmy and the others looking calm and collected. Trixie's eyes fell to her phone to scan Twitter, and Timmy returned to looking around the courtyard. But her fingers loosely linked with Timmy's in her own calming way.
The bell sounded soon enough, and the gang dispersed. Timmy let go of Trixie's fingers, and she went off to Anthro, promising to meet up with Timmy after class. He hung back a few minutes. He had Statistics first period, and Moon didn't give a flying Frisbee what time you got into class. When he finally started moving, he was surprised to find that Missy was walking next to him.
Missy was a short, yet somehow remarkably leggy, red haired girl who had moved to Dimmsdale from Ireland near the end of Timmy's fifth grade year. Mere weeks before his parents fled town. She had been Timmy's first real girlfriend, back when they were fourteen until about a year and a half ago. One day they were together, the next they weren't. It was only when they were just friends again but did Timmy realize he prefered it that way. But more important, she knew what today was.
"So, Timmy?" Her slightly Irish accented voice betraying her concern. But she wasn't Trixie and Timmy wasn't as keen to spill his guts to his ex-girlfriend.
"Sorry, Miss. Have to run to my locker, Chad texted me that Moon is pulling an open book pop quiz and I need to get my book. Talk later." Obviously aware of his own bail, Timmy smiled half-heartedly at her and hurried off. He could hear her sigh, and follow him inside. They were already two of the last people filing inside the building, and he adjusted his cap as he took the long way she was bound not to go.
Timmy showed up in Stats fifteen minutes late, which Elmer in the front row was pleased to point out that he had missed 30% percent of the class. Timmy, like the rest of the class, chose to ignore Elmer, and took his usual seat by the windows, Tad and Chad already waiting for him. They acknowledged his appearance with a simultaneous nod of their heads, and returned to talking about fencing or boating or whatever activity they were into this week. And Timmy was left back in his own thoughts. At first he tried to text Trixie for entertainment, but he got a quick reply that she had a test in a class that actually cared about tests and couldn't talk for the moment, so instead Timmy flipped into the back of his notebook to the area where he would draw.
Not many people knew this about Timmy, but he was a fantastic artist. Just something he picked up over the years, doodling into the corners of his notebooks, and tests he didn't know the answers to. He had a few sketchbooks at home full of pictures he had drawn, of trees, buildings, the park, and of Tess and Pappy. He even had a sketch of Trixie, but not even she knew that one existed. There were also pictures that also seemed blurred, but he had to draw out of his head or they would physically hurt him. Just smudges of pink and green, and sometimes purple, waiting to become real drawings.
Before Timmy knew it, first period was over. Then Astronomy class, second period. Then his third period gym. All finished before he even noticed. His mind really was somewhere else today, more so than it ever was, even on this anniversary. It was fourth period now; Timmy would have Shakespeare with Bickles. Timmy decided he'd rather not attend another class now, and instead texted Trixie to not expect him in their shared class today, that he was heading to the trees instead.
He left the school from the lunchroom doors, opened to let the students in the first lunch outside, then crossed over from the tables, to the benches, then the small grouping of trees. It was easy, because the staff knew the kids went there, and if they came back and didn't take too long, they didn't really care. He found a decent quiet area, where there were no freshmen trying to feel each other up, and leaned against the tree. Time for an old bad habit, Timmy thought, reaching into his book bag. At the bottom of the bag, he found his pack of cigarette, still mostly full. Timmy didn't smoke them often; Trixie didn't like the smell. But he was stressed and decided he really needed one. He lights one up, and turned on his music and tried to calm down.
Timmy sat for a few minutes, just resting his eyes, listening to music and occasionally taking a drag, when a distinctively strange sound came. Not the sound of a freshman getting his first BJ, or a sophomore unable to find her bra in the bushes, but the sound of someone in a tree. Timmy looked up and was surprised, at admittingly more than a little terrified to find someone looking at him. He sprung to his feet, earphones tangling, and the remains of his cigarette falling from his mouth to the ground.
She dropped herself down from the tree with a soft thud, and Timmy got a good look at her. She was short, almost as short as Trixie, with pale skin, bright pale blue eyes, and almost white blonde hair. She wore a yellow shirt, white skirt and a large headband, and was looking at him with the oddest expression. Then she smiled, "Timmy Turner."
Timmy was dumbfounded to say the least, "Do I know you?" The girl's smile dropped a fraction, before picking right back up.
"You did, I'm Chloe Chloe Carmichael. You really shouldn't smoke those." She stuck out her hand for Timmy to shake, and Timmy was surprised by the mark on her wrist. It looked like a tattoo, but was inkless. Like a brand, or a cut that had been deliberately sliced that way. Its design almost looked like a flower, but at the same time it didn't. And it seemed to shine gold and silver in the dim light. It was unlike anything Timmy had seen before. And looking at it caused a sharp pain in his head that threatened to consume him. He was so struck by it that he almost didn't take the girl's hand. But regaining composure momentarily, he took the girl's hand.
"Timmy...Turner," he managed to get out. The girl withdrew her hand, and pulled her hands behind her back to hide her mark. Timmy's head instantly started to clear up.
"I know," she said lightly, "We've been neighbors for years." Timmy thought for a moment, trying to recount his neighbors when he remembered.
"Yeah, the Carmichaels live across the street. Are you their niece or cousin or something? They didn't mention having a daughter my age." Chloe's smile dropped completely, and it didn't come back.
"Yeah, they care more about super helpless animals than only occasionally helpless daughters," she looked at him, "but you know something about that don't you?" Timmy stared at her for a moment in complete were only a handful of people outside his immediate family knew what had happened to his could some girl from across the street knew, was he not closing his blinds or something?
"I have no clue what you're talking about," he replied stood up and towered over the girl. He found his height would usually intimidate people, but this five foot nothing girl was not in the least bit worried.
"Oh, you don't remember do you?" Chloe said with a laugh, "I thought it was an act to keep them back, but you really don't remember a thing." Timmy got worried as her laugh became more and more hysterical, "We are so screwed."
"What the hell are you even saying?!" Timmy had had enough of this girl. He picked up his bag and his coat and tried to move passed the girl, who had stopped laughing. She was looking more serious now.
"You're going to have to remember soon, because we're going to need you," she poked a finger into his chest, "So hurry up, and break down that wall." Timmy's head was starting to hurt again, and he took off past her.
"Listen, whatever you're smoking I don't want any." And Timmy was off. Head pounding, he hurried through the woods, blindly trying to make his way back to the school. He was stopped only when he tripped over the jacket Chad had uncharacteristically left carelessly on the forest floor. He and Tad were making out instead of going to gym again. They looked over at him, angry until the realized it was Timmy.
"Turner," they said in unison, not even bothering to looked back, half expecting to find the girl chasing him and was relieved to find no one. Timmy straightened his shirt, and tried to maintain the cool.
"If a blonde chick passes by asking for me, you've-"
"Never heard of Timmy Turner in our lives. No problem." Tad finished.
"Have to beat the guys and girls away with a stick," Chad added.
"Exactly. Now I'll see you guys at lunch. Maybe. Pick up that jacket before it gets dirty and you have to explain it to your dry cleaner again," and Timmy hurried off. As he went, a picture is his head grew, at first just a blurry image in the back of his mind. It was like someone was slowly pressing the focus on a camera. It was him, and as it got clearer he saw more people, sitting around in his old tree house. But just as the image got clear enough to see, it disappeared from his mind.
Instead it was replaced with a horrific vision of a rainbow bridge burning. The bridge sported a crack across it, separating it into two. One side fell off the map, all the way down farther than he could see. But he could smell the fire and hear the screams coming from that side. The other side, however, might have been worse. It was calm; deathly calm. Nothing but black smoke and clouds trailing off, and not a sound. As if there should be a sound yet none was heard, you couldn't even hear the screams. It was terrifying.
And just like that Timmy snapped out of his day dream and was back at school. Sitting on a bench near the gym, staring down at his hands like nothing was wrong. Timmy had no clue how he had made it across the entire school without stopping or someone stopping him. For a moment longer he just stared down at his hands, like he expected them to suddenly be someone else's, and in his daze he didn't bother to notice someone had sat down next to them until she spoke.
"You okay there, Timmy?" She said, "You look like a someone's been shoving oranges up your ass." Timmy looked down at her feet first, and trailed up. Black ankle boots, knee socks, and a pleated mini skirt told him who it was instantly. Tootie Olsen was sitting next to him looking at him like she was worried he might pass out or vomit on her shoes or both. And Timmy wasn't sure he wasn't going to, nor was he really sure where exactly this feeling was coming from.
"That is an oddly specific description. I just got a little light headed for a second," Timmy obviously wasn't convincing her though. And that was a mark against him, because Tootie usually just went with anything. Tootie had once been the annoying little sister to his bossy babysitter, now she was just some pretty, albeit strange, girl who ran her sister's Creampuff troop. Tootie had calmed with time, and presumably friends, hobbies and possibly medication. Timmy and she were on okay terms, but not the best of friends, and if he wasn't fooling her he wouldn't be fooling anyone. "I haven't been feeling very well lately."
"Lot of stuff on your mind?" Tootie asked, mimicking Timmy's current position. Hunched over, elbows on knees, hands clasped, and her dyed blue hair covered her face, "Is it Theresa?"
"No, Tess is fine. She's looking forward to the trip to Build-A-Bear next week."
"You're trying to get me to change the topic, aren't you?" Timmy watched her fiddle with the sleeves of her sweater, waiting.
"Maybe," Timmy replied cheekily. Tootie looked up for a second and Timmy saw for once she wasn't smiling and she looked almost angry, her eyes seemed to glow as disturbingly pink as her sister's seemed. But as quick as it showed, it disappeared and Tootie is her little smiling self again.
"Fine, don't talk," Tootie fiddled with the buttons on her cardigan and looked at him, "Tell Tess to be ready for ballet, the twins have been asking about her." The twins were Vicky's kids. About three years old, one had Vicky's red hair and the other Tootie's dark eyes, and if they had a father nothing of his. Small, dead eyed little Shining twins. There was Dres, the boy, and Nim, the girl. Dres had short hair, and Nim was deaf. There was little other difference. But Tessie liked them, so Timmy abides.
"Yeah, four o'clock I haven't forgotten again," he joked, breaking her gaze, "I'll see you there." But Tootie was already gone, no sign of her, probably haven't turned towards the caf and abandoned him to his numbness. More time passed, and the bell sounded signifying the end of class, and almost instantly afterwards his phone buzzed with a text notification. Timmy knew it was going to be Trixie looking for him, he wasn't quite ready to meet up with her. Luck for him he could avoid her for the rest of the school day. He did however have English with Mr. Crocker.
He had come up to the high school a year before Timmy had, taking over for the now retired teacher, Birdwell. He had calmed down a bit from how Timmy remembered he was in fifth grade. Medication, probably. Sure he wasn't having random outbursts, or flunking kids at random, but he was still unsettling about him. He had gotten so quiet.
Crocker had to still be suspicious, and paranoid and fairly crazy. He did his best to get through the class with his head down. And it worked for the most part, Crocker didn't bother him, he preferred to torment the freshman now.
Either way, Crocker wouldn't bother him today. He had been the one who, six years ago, discovered that he was living alone with his six-month old sister. He had come to his house for one reason or another, probably to see why he had been absent for two weeks, despite having perfect attendance before. Timmy remembered how he had been a little nicer to him that final week of fifth grade. Stayed with him that night, fixing up everything for when his Pappy would come tomorrow. Then just being decent to him until fifth grade ended.
It stopped after that. Crocker simply ignored Timmy through his sixth grade year, then he was away from Crocker in middle school. Then high school, their paths really hadn't crossed until this year. And even this year, Crocker didn't pay him much mind beyond a few suspicious glares. Timmy hated those.
The class was quick and even boring, just a new chapter in Animal Farm. It was over before he knew it and tried to leave the class quickly when Crocker called him back. He stood in front of him, and Timmy realized how unintimidating he was now. Just a hunched, pale man, one breakdown away from the nuthouse. Timmy older, taller, and stronger than him now. He shouldn't be afraid of Crocker. He really shouldn't.
"Turner," Crocker started to say, trying to fend compassion. Timmy really didn't have time for him today. He had a headache, and he wanted to go to work and get the day over with. But Crocker was still talking, "Now, I know we haven't been on what you can call the best terms," he said in short fragments, obviously uncomfortable," But I know this day must be hard for you and,"
"It's fine, Mr. Crocker. It doesn't bother me anymore, "Timmy said quickly wishing this conversation over now, "Just rough it out and wait for the end of the day," there was an awkward pause, then Timmy excused himself saying that he had to get to his next class.
"Right now, go," Crocker said bluntly. Timmy turned and started to walk back out of the class when Crocker called to him, "It's coming you know, Turner." The dark laugh crept back into the corner of his mind.
"Um. What's coming, Mr. Crocker?" he asked, as calmly as possible.
"The end of the day, Turner. There's only one period left," he gave Timmy a confused, peculiar look and said, "The years have not made you smarter, boy." Then let Timmy leave.
Timmy didn't really have anywhere to go, since he had last period free. He decided to sign out early and head to work. It was either that or risk another running into Trixie or someone else trying to get him to talk. He stopped at his locker, to put his book for English into it, and grabbed his apron and he was off. Or at least he would have been if he didn't start to hear something like a melody, a sad song calling to him. He pulled his hat from his back pocket, and secured it on his head before following the sound.
But as soon as he turned the corner he smashed right into someone. "Shit!" Timmy swore, "Are you okay?" She was punk from her choice of clothes, and something about her was very familiar.
"I'm fine," she said brushing off her red leather jacket, "It's my fault. I wasn't looking where I was going." Then Timmy knew where he had seen her before; she was Chester's girlfriend, name was... something Timmy couldn't remember.
"No, it's my fault," Timmy assured, not wanting to upset a girl who he figured got upset easy, "I was just looking for something. Um, music. Have you heard it?"
His question must have confused her because she stopped putting stuff back in her back and looked at him almost worried. Her face shifted to overall emotion and she said, "Yeah. Bickles is trying out a new music hobby. He likes to play it loudly when the students start to leave. Gets them out quicker or something." And with that she left.
Realizing how stupid he had been, Timmy double timed it out of the school and headed off to work. He never did remember her name.
See, fairly similar to the original chapter. The next one will be up next Wednesday, like this was going to be before I took a too long nap and Chrissy forgot to wake me. If anyone has the source to the quote in my summary pass it on so I can credit them. Also tell me what this is suppose to even go under because crossovers only allow two choices, which this has way more than. Thank you and good night.