"Enter Name"
You cannot enter a name as this is no longer a game. This young man's name was given to him at a foster home before his adoption by Dirk Strider and Jake English. It is not this young man's birthday, but you should still be aware that he is ten years old.
== Be Adam A.H. Strider-English
Your name is ADAM and you are TERRIFIED OF EVERYTHING.
Some people might think you were being hyperbolic, and they would probably be right. You are only scared of some things. Dogs, planes, bikes, cars that drive over the speed limit, standing up in front of a crowd, getting sick, breaking a bone, and being alone in the dark to name a few. These fears can sometimes make you prone to PANIC ATTACKS, which is only compounded by the fact that you are afraid of having panic attacks.
You have an INHALER to treat your asthma, a set of HORN-RIMMED GLASSES to treat your nearsightedness, and a DEFIBRILLATOR to treat your occasional arrhythmia. You have not had to use the defibrillator before, thank god, but your doctor recommended it to you anyway.
You have a strange feeling that your dads were not expecting having to deal with all of these health complications, as they had already built you a number of toys you cannot use. There is a ROBOT in the corner that Dad insists was once meant to be used for sparring, and a collection of FIREARMS in the closet that are still too heavy for you to hold. Dad always wants to train you in "the noble art of FISTICUFFS," but you find your asthma is too much for you to handle in those situations.
Instead of these things, you have found your PLAYBILL COLLECTION to be a very important part of your life. Your Dads often shake their heads in wonder (disappointment?) when you ask to bring home a new addition; they had no idea there were so many non-musical entries into the theater world. God knows you can't have musicals in your playbill collection. Those things are dumb.
You might be a bit of a wacky kid.
== Examine room
You keep your room as neat as possible; you must be sure that you can always find things when you need to. Hence there is really not much to examine. You have several textbooks organized alphabetically in the corner as well as a very nice CALCULATOR. You might not be able to compete physically, but you are terribly, terribly clever. In fact, if you were not so clever, one might even think you were a horrible joke played on your Dads by some ill-mannered master of fate.
They love you, though. You know they do. They just have a funny way of showing it that sometimes includes longing looks at the weapons rack.
Your Dad, Dirk Strider, is still aiming to take his role in POLITICS. You can really admire his ambition, but you find his techniques to be underhanded sometimes. He is currently running for governor, and you think his campaign would be going much more smoothly if he were willing to be courteous and speak to the public of his own accord.
Your other Dad, Jake English, seems set on opening his own dojo. He tells you on a too-regular basis that this is not a jab at your lack of physical prowess, and he doesn't love you any less because you can't be a student. This is just a job. You would not have been offended if he only said this to you once, but you don't think he means badly.
You are a very hard worker, and ambitious in your own right. Though you have very little idea of what is "fun" for you, you know that sense of accomplishment after a job well done is enjoyable. You are already very intensely focused on your studying, and can accomplish a lot in a very short period of time. In fact, your Dad sometimes leaves his business finances in your hands, and you are more than capable of acting as an accountant.
You are busy pondering the difference between fun and work when your phone starts buzzing.
- macaroniMayhem [MM] began pestering embersEngineer [EE] at 14:27 –
MM: adam!
MM: you have to come over today!
EE: I do?
MM: yes!
MM: dad put a POOL outside
EE: Wait, really?
EE: As in a legitimate in-ground pool?
EE: How did he manage something like that so quickly?
MM: i am rolling my eyes at you
MM: you cant see it but i promise its happening
MM: no its just one of the ones you blow up and run around in!
EE: Oh. That makes significantly more sense.
MM: duh!
MM: but you should come over and we can use it
EE: I'm not sure. Did you fill it with water from the hose?
MM: oh my god yes but theres no germs in it so just come over!
EE: There are germs in everything, Casey, don't be silly.
EE: And I think I'm probably getting too grown up for this sort of thing…
MM: please?
EE: You know my immune system isn't great.
MM: pleeeeeeeease?
EE: Are you sure it's set up on flat ground?
MM: totally sure! pretty pretty please and ill go see one of your boring plays with you?
EE: I'm fairly certain you said that last time.
MM: well…ill go see two of your plays with you and they wont be boring at all
EE: ...
EE: …Fine. But if I get sick this is on your head!
MM: awesome!
MM: see you soon :)
- macaroniMayhem [MM] ceased pestering embersEngineer [EE] at 14:41 –
You sigh to yourself in discontent that you can't fully bring yourself to believe. Sure her adventurousness can get a little wearisome sometimes, but you quite enjoy spending time with Casey. She is your BEST FRIEND after all. There are times when you worry that she only spends time with you because of your Dad's not quite familial relation to John, but you can ignore this more often than not.
You make sure to pack a bag, just in case. The Egberts are not great about having a proper first aid kit in the house, and you need your TAMBOCOR at all times. You briefly consider walking, but decide instead that you should ask your Dads for a ride while they're here.
You make your way to the living room, where they are in the middle of a rather loud and arduous strife once again.
"Hey Dad?"
"Yes?" "Sup?" They both turn to face you in perfect unison. You have tried insisting on calling Dirk Dad and Jake Pop, but you've found that neither one of them is ever willing to answer to Pop.
"I need a ride to Casey's house. Can one of you drive me?"
Dad speaks up first, and you flinch a bit. You were hoping it would be Dad. Dad tends to drive a bit too fast.
"Jolly good, son!" He detangles his arm from its lock around your Dad's shoulder. "I needed to head out that way anyway!"
"Whoa, hold up." Dad interjects. "So you didn't tell him yet?"
"Tell me what?" You don't like it when they have to tell you things. Usually it's something like "Brobot accidentally broke your calculator" or "the doctor says there's something wrong with your heart."
"So, little man," your dad's kneeling at your level, and you find yourself worrying once again that he's not been properly disinfecting his facial piercings. "We've got to go away for a while. You're going to be staying with your Aunt Roxy."
Yeah. You hate it when they have to tell you things. "When are you leaving?"
"Tonight." You put on your best poker face while your Dad ruffles your hair. "But it's only for a couple of days, I promise. AR isn't handling the crowds too well and I have to do some sweet-talking."
"As if you're capable of sweet talking, Strider." Dad crosses his arms.
"That's why I need you to come with me. Be charming at the camera. Double pistols and a wink, all that jazz." Your Dad is right. Dad is certainly better at winning over a crowd than he is.
You want to ask if you can come too, but you already know that's going to mean either a plane, a train, or a car that's driving way too fast. Instead, you head back to your room and start packing for real. Dad follows, a little less cheery than usual.
"Son, I'm terribly sorry that we put this on you so suddenly. I only hope you'll be willing to let bygones be bygones, and not let my oversights ruin your time with Casey."
"It's okay, Dad." It's not. "You'll be home soon, right?"
He runs a hand through your hair. He was always so proud that you had thick dark hair and glasses, and that you looked almost just like him. "As soon as we can. Love you terribly, little man."
You manage the slightest smile. "Love you too."
Dad gives you a ride to see Casey, and you know he feels bad when he drives under the speed limit and everything. You hop into his arms and give him a hug goodbye, because you know he won't be the one picking you up.
Casey's already outside in her swimsuit by the time you get there, and the pool is actually a little bigger than you anticipated. John dumps a bucket of water onto her head, and she shrieks in surprise before splashing back. You are positive someone is going to get hurt today, but you don't really have much time to dwell on it. Casey's advancing on you with that bucket, and if you want to stay dry you are going to have to run.
"Casemeister! You have to at least let him get his swimsuit on!" John starts, but it's too late. It's wet and cold and you're on your butt in a puddle of mud, and you barely even had time to put your stuff away. Part of you wants to curl up and hide, but you hold it in as best you can.
Casey's laughter fades when she realizes you aren't laughing too. "…Adam?"
You're trying too hard not to cry to be able to answer her. She's kneeling by you now, and John's coming over to see what happened. You wish they would just stop looking at you and let you sulk in peace.
"Adam?" John's voice this time. "What's going on?"
You're soaked is what's going on. You're wet, you're probably going to catch a cold and you're not even going to be able to go home to change your clothes afterwards.
You have to lift your glasses to wipe your eyes, and John is rubbing your back. "Oh no, did she hurt you? Casey, you can't be so rough with people!"
"I didn't mean to!" she insists, imitating her dad with a hand on your back. John's got that worried look on his face, the one that only makes you feel worse about being so fragile.
"I'm not hurt. My Dads are going away and I have to stay with Roxy again." Your lip is quivering and you hate it.
"No! But Aunt Roxy's house is tiny and far away, and she has so many cats, and wait a second!" Casey slaps her hands to her mouth. "You should stay with us! Can he, Dad?"
You don't want to get your hopes up, but staying with Casey sounds a lot nicer than heading back to the couch in Roxy's living room. John grins.
"Of course. You know we've always got space for visitors. But only if you want to. Would you rather stay with your aunt?"
You shake your head, relieved that you were smart enough to pack tissues in your makeshift first aid kit. John picks up his phone.
"Alright. I'm just going to let your parents and Roxy know. Casey, can you go help him unpack the futon?"
Casey nods, and the two of you run inside. It only takes a couple of minutes to get your bed set up, and a couple of more to turn their living room into a second home.
"Adam." Casey starts, serious faced. "Dad and I are so much cooler than Aunt Roxy. You know you should always call us first."
"Really?" You're not sure you believe her. "It's not a problem?"
"Why would it be?" She tucks a flashlight under your blanket for later use. You don't really have an answer for that.
The next two days pass in a blur, with days spent outside in the backyard and nights spent building forts on the couch. She sneaks out of bed with movies and games to play, and you teach her to build a catapult out of popsicle sticks and tape. Keeping their promise, your Dads are home before the third night to pick you up. You find yourself and Casey hiding in the closet to buy some extra time, and you're sure to give John a too-long hug goodbye. It doesn't take very long for Dad to load your bags into the car, or Dad to clear Cal from your seat.
"Have fun, kiddo?" Dad asks, fidgeting slightly with the ring in his lip.
You nod, and he reaches into the backseat to ruffle your hair. "Good. We brought you home a present."
And then Dad, overeager as ever, reaches into his bag and pulls out a playbill for "A Midsummer Night's Dream."
"We didn't actually go, but there were plenty extra lying around the theater. Thought you might hate us a little less."
You don't hate them at all. Sure, your family is hardly orthodox, but you love your Dads more than you could say. You love them, and you love the Egberts, and you even love your Aunt Roxy when she's not asking you to sleep on a couch covered in cat hair.
You snuggle the playbill into your chest, catching up on some much needed rest that your time with the Egberts never quite allowed for.
Notes from Mama Lobster: Dad Dad Dad Dad Dad Dad Dad Dad Dad Dad Dad Dad Dad Dad Dad I am getting tongue tied just trying to type this.