AN: Yeah. I know. I suck at getting things up. A reviewer reminded me about this thing (People still read it?!) So here's the sequel to Twisted Story.
Minutes ticked by. Slowly. It was painful to just watch the seconds tick by. They seemed to stretch on into minutes and minutes into hours. There was nothing more James wanted than to get out of that classroom. Sadly no matter how much he wanted to get out, to go home, time continued to crawl.
Come on, clock. Move faster.
His wishes never came so what felt like hours later, the bell rang and he was allowed to leave. Well not quite.
"James? I want to talk to you."
Fuck it…
James waited until the last person left the classroom before looking at the teacher. Mr. Morgan was tall and had only been teaching for a few years. James didn't like him very much.
"James we need to work on this."
James didn't say anything; he just stayed in his seat, staring at his desk. There were cuts in it. Deep ones. The kind that meant someone was so board they had enough time to slowly make the same motion with a pen over and over again.
"You can't keep doing what you are doing in this class. If you don't get this next test, that's it. You fail this class and you fail this year."
"I know. You've told me this before. You've talked to Dad about this. I know I fail another class I get to repeat this year. You don't need to tell me again." James sighed. "Can I go? I have a lot of homework I need to get done."
Mr. Morgan frowned but nodded. "See you next week."
James picked up his bag and left the room and the school. The walk home was long. Not really; he lived about a block from school but it felt long but at long last he was home.
He ran up the steps and opened the door. Softly he closed it behind him, hoping no one noticed him. He started making his way down the hallway when…
"You're home."
James stopped and set his bag down. "Yeah."
"What did the teacher say?"
"If I failed the next test I get to repeat this year."
James' father sighed. He wasn't a large man but he was imposing. And for some reason it always felt like he was about to cry. Especially when he looked at James. His dad, Michael, looked up from his chair and motioned him to sit on the couch. James did as he was asked.
"You can't do this, James."
"Do what?"
"James I don't have the energy to play games right now." You never do. "You did so well before this year started. What happened? What changed?"
You did. Last year you treated me just fine but now you've distanced yourself from me. I need you. If you want me to do well you need to stop looking at me like that. Looking at me like I'm a ghost.
"Nothing."
Michael sighed again. "Okay. Allison and Tucker will be coming over tomorrow. I would like it if you could be around for that."
James liked Allison and Tucker. They were fun. He would most defiantly be there tomorrow.
"I'll try."
"Thanks."
James picked up his bag and went upstairs with it. His room was always a surprise to his friends. Their rooms were messy; clothes flung into the corners, trash everywhere, books left where they fell from the shelves. James' room was clean. His school books were placed neatly on the shelves, his clothes never touched the floor and trash was always put in its place, the trashcan.
He set his bag down and pressed his head into his hands. It was hard to only have one parent. He envied his friends' who had both. Many times James had asked about his mother, he had to have had one, only to have his father collapse in tears. James had stopped asking about her.
He moaned and turned on the TV. News. This was what he watched, nothing but news. Why? It helped calm him. He didn't know why but seeing people in pain helped him stay calm. James had anger issues. He snapped at people on a good day and mauled them on a bad one. Today had been a good day. Today he had remembered to take his pills. He hated them. They made him dizzy, something to the point of vertigo; gave him headaches, of course aspirin didn't help any; and sleepy, more than once he had fallen asleep after taking them. This was not something new. His pills had nothing to do with the problems he was facing in school. Ever since he had been old enough to take them, he had been on these pills.
The TV said something that caught his interest.
"New research has shown that children born to any of the SPARTAN series one, three, or four inherit their parents' enhancements. This has caused some controversy amongst recruiting in schools. Dan Ashley has more on this story."
The camera changed showing a middle-aged man with the words "Dan Ashley" at the bottom of the screen.
"That's right." That's right what? That's right you have more? That's right there is controversy in schools? "The Government wants to recruit as many of these 'Second Generation SPARTANS as they can. They Military is working on getting names of the children and hope to get them to join. They plan on using more aggressive recruiting methods—"
James turned off the TV.
The SPARTAN programs had always interested him, much to the dismay of his father. It was the SPARTAN IIs that were the most fascinating for obvious reasons. James noticed how the report said series one, three and four. The thought of a II having kids was amusing.
Quickly James pulled out his schoolbooks and opened one up, taking up a position that looked like he had been reading for a while. Just in time too. His father opened his door.
James looked up. "What?"
"Studying?"
"Yeah."
Michael nodded and left.
Life had been hard for Michael J. Caboose. Life before his family was killed had been hard. After their deaths, the only way he thought he could cope was by joining the SPARTANS. After that, life only got harder. The training was instance and even now he could remember everything they had drilled into him. Then life changed on him again. Then he was shipped out to Blood Gulch Outpost Alpha. Then he met…
No. It still hurt. Of course he knew part of the trouble James was having in school was his fault. But James looked so much like him. Sometimes he would be watching his son do something, anything, and it would remind him of…
Caboose closed his eyes fighting the tears. Almost eighteen years and it was still painful. He remembered how long it too Te… No she was Allison now. He remembered how long it took Allison to convince him it would be okay if she and Tucker (not in the Military and still went by his last name) come by.
"We just want to see if you guys are okay. It's been so long. Pictures are not the same and I want to see James again."
Now the two of them were coming over. Suddenly Caboose had a flashback of a SPARTAN III firing at the wall around him. Allison had scared him so much back then. If you had told him back then they would be as close as they are now, he would have… Actually, he didn't know what he would have done. He had grown up so fast he felt like he had lost a part of himself…
It didn't really matter though. He had pushed all that back. Far far back. He didn't want to remember any of what had happened in Blood Gulch.
But without Blood Gulch, he wouldn't have James. Allison and Tucker wouldn't be together.
If not for Blood Gulch… He would still be alive.
"Stop it. You already haunt me enough though James. You don't have to haunt me by reminding me of what I lost. Go away."
