How You Play the Game
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Sequel to "The Game of Life." Third installment in "The Game" series.Disclaimer: These characters are not mine, they belong to JJ Abrams and Bad Robot Productions.
Distribution: Cover Me; any others, please ask.
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Jack Vaughn shouldered his carry-on bag and moved to the front of the tiny plane, taking a deep breath as he moved to walk down the steps. It was Christmas vacation of his freshman year in college; he hadn't been home since school had started more than three months ago. Couldn't say he was particularly looking forward to going home now.
"Jackie!" a familiar voice squealed as he made his way through the airport. In spite of himself, he smiled as his little sister came hurtling towards him, throwing her arms around his neck.
"Emily," he said with a grin. At fourteen, his sister was cute as a button, with light brown hair, brown eyes, and a wide, dimpled smile. She was tall and skinny, though the short skirt and midriff-baring t-shirt she wore showed off the beginnings of a figure.
"It's so good to see you, Jack," she bubbled, giving him a warm hug. "It's been so boring around here since you've been gone. You look great!"
"So do you," he said once they'd parted, his grin widening. "Mom and Dad let you leave the house dressed like that?"
"Shut up," she giggled, running a hand back through her hair.
"You always did have the two of them wrapped around your finger," he teased as they made their way through the airport.
"Shut up, I do not," she protested, but the sly smile that crossed her face told Jack that she knew otherwise.
"So where are Mom and Dad?" Jack asked curiously. "Or have you taken the car joyriding again?"
"I only did that once, and you know it," she said, giving him a playful swat on the shoulder. "Mom's waiting in the car, she's in like thirty minute parking, so we have to hurry. Oh, don't you have luggage?"
"Just this," Jack said, patting his bag. "Dad didn't come?"
A solemn look crossed Emily's face, and she suddenly stopped walking. "He had to stay at the restaurant, the Hortons are having their Christmas party. You really need to call more often, Jack, Dad really misses you. I mean, Mom does, too, but Dad--"
"I know," Jack cut in. He hadn't really left on the best of terms with either of his parents. They had absolutely freaked out when he'd started talking about going away to college, though he couldn't for the life of him understand why.
"What is there for me on this island?" he'd exploded. "Do you expect me to work at your stupid little restaurant for the rest of my life?"
It had been a nasty thing to say, and he'd regretted it instantly. His parents loved living on the island; they'd miss him when he was gone, that was all. What was more, they seemed to really enjoy running their restaurant, seemed really content with their lives.
Except there is a look his mother gets, a pained, worried look that tells him she is not as content as she seems.
And there are memories he has from when he was young. Memories of his father in suits and his mother in chic dresses and expensive jewelry. Memories of a beautiful grandmother and something called the Organization.
He remembers that his parents were not as happy then, that there was a weariness about them that seems to have been lifted. Usually, he doesn't ask them about that time, because even thinking about it seems to make them so sad.
But sometimes, all he wants is to know. To know what the Organization is.
To know what has happened in his parents lives that is so bad they can't even talk about it.
