Gen's Car
Gen nimbly tucked the corners of her sheets, around the mattress, making military corners. She fluffed up her pillow, and set it at the top of her bed, after smoothing out all the wrinkles in her blanket. Then she turned around, and started neatly tucking her folded clothes away into their proper drawers. She hummed quietly as she did so. She had already picked up the floor, vacuumed the carpet, dusted the shelves, organized her stuffed animals, and washed the windows. Once a month Gen was made to clean her room, and today was cleaning day. Gen hated cleaning, but when she did it, she did it well. During the rest of the month she would let her room go to ruins, but on this one day of the month she made it into a sterile zone.
Gen stood back, and admired the spotless perfection that was her room. She took a deep breath, and nodded her approval before kissing her frog prince stuffed animal, and leaving the room. She wasn't particularly good looking, or for that matter bad looking. She was average. She had long, brown, curly hair, wore rimless, square shaped, rose tinted glasses, and stood about five foot three. She wasn't skinny, or fat, but somewhere in between. She never wore make-up, but then, make-up didn't suit her funny, but cute little face.
Gen walked quickly down the staircase, into the front hall, "I'm going out," she called to the empty hall as she pulled on a jacket. There was no reply, which surprised her. Though usually no one cared if she went out, they at least gave evidence that they heard her, "Mom?" Gen turned, and walked into the office. No one was there. She walked into the living room. No one was there. She was beginning to worry when she found a sticky note on the inside of the front door.
Gone out to breakfast.
Be back soon.
Gen frowned, and pulled the sticky note off the door, getting out a pen. She stuck a new sticky note on the door and wrote:
Gone for a walk.
Be back whenever.
Gen didn't really know if her parents cared where she went. If they found her gone, without leaving a note they might not have even cared. Gen pulled a big, bright yellow umbrella out of the umbrella stand in the front hall, and opened the door. She stepped out onto the porch, and locked the door behind her, putting her house key in her pocket, and opening her umbrella over her head. It wasn't raining.
Gen went for walks all the time, and almost always brought an umbrella. It was a precautionary thing really. Number one, if someone tried to rape her she could use it as a sword, to fend him off. Number two, if it suddenly began to rain she would be safe, and no one else would. Plus, she found that often people tried to make small talk with you if you walked by, which seriously interfered with her meditation, and the presence of something blatantly unusual scared people. Sometimes instead of bringing an umbrella she would wear her wide brimmed straw hat with a red ribbon on it, and whistle show tunes very loudly. If people did attempt to stop her she would either make up a story about having to get home quickly, or pretend that she spoke only French. Gen didn't really speak in French, but she had this strange ability to pile a huge French accent on English words, and make them sound like French.
Today Gen wasn't just on a meditative walk. She was walking with a purpose, directly to the bus stop. Gen used the public bus quite often, and found that with her yellow umbrella, and her incessant whistling she was one of the odd balls that rode the bus, rather than the nice, scared little girl she used to be when she rode the bus. When the bus came to a stop she clambered up the steps, and walked clumsily down the isle to the back seat. She liked to make herself look like so much of a dork that no one would dare make contact with her. She "accidentally" opened her umbrella in a woman's face, and tripped over another woman's purse. Gen had always thought that she would make quite the physical comedian. When she finally got to her seat she plopped herself down, and grinned like an idiot at the two girls of her age sitting next to her. They scooted over on the seat to get as far away from her as they could. Gen smiled at her accomplishment, and began to hum the tune to "Hello Dolly" as loudly as she could. The two girls got off at the next stop. Gen continued to smile.
Gen got off at the next stop, in the downtown part of town. She "worked" downtown, though not really in the sense that she got paid. She was only fourteen, and couldn't really work. She "worked" meaning that she did work, but not for any sort of pay, or under the direction of any boss. Gen walked down the street, and turned the corner, walking into a large mechanic shop called "Joe's Garage." The man who owned the shop's name was Greg. He named the shop "Joe's Garage" because he felt that it suited the place, whatever that meant.
Greg's assistant, Morg, was Gen's friend. He was two year older than her, but he had known her forever. Morg was the reason that Gen came downtown as often as she did. She had needed a place to work, and a garage was the best place, plus it was free, thanks to Morg. As Gen entered the garage she was met by the sound of Greg lecturing Morg about the importance of punctuality.
"Don't tell me I came in time to hear Greg on his soap box," Gen laughed, and hung her jacket, and umbrella on the coat rack.
"Unluckily," Morg rolled his eyes. Gen and Morg never really took Greg seriously. It was very difficult not to have a good time with Greg. He was something between a teenager, and an adult. Sometimes he was Morg's boss, and others he was his pall. After the first hour of work Greg and Morg began to ease up.
Gen walked to where her tools were set up, next to a car, with a cover over it. Gen pulled the cover off of the car, revealing it to be a beautiful, old Model-T ford. She had gotten it from a nearby junkyard, because the Junker had decided that it no longer run, and thus was no good to him. She had had it towed to the garage, where Morg had said that she could fix it up. It was really just a cover though, that she only wanted it as her car when she got old enough to drive. Neither of the men realized that she had never bought an engine to put into the car, that in fact the bizarre machine she had put under the hood was not a car engine at all.
Gen hadn't told anyone the truth about what she was doing. She even gave different lies to her family, and friends. The truth was that instead of a car engine inside her car there was a prototype machine, invented by Gen herself. Gen had serious plans for dimensional travel, and this machine would take her obsession to the next step. If everything worked out according to Gen's plans she would be the first person to travel between the dimensions. Fixing a car was the perfect cover. Gen was good at working on cars, and Greg had often offered her a job as his other assistant mechanic. However, Gen was too young for a job, and besides, she didn't want a job. She liked her carefree way of life. Everything Gen knew about cars Morg had taught her. He was in the Auto Academy at their high school.
Morg liked to tell his friends Gen was his girlfriend. Gen liked to tell her friends that she and Morg were secret lovers, from another planet, in another galaxy, who had a telepathic connection with each other. She liked to keep people wondering. Sometimes she and Morg would even pretend to be telepathically connected. They would purposely drop their pencils at the same time in geometry class, or say the exact same thing at the exact same time. While they both told people they were "together," they really weren't. Gen was just weird, and Morg just liked the image of having a girlfriend. When Morg had asked Gen if it was okay for him to call her his girlfriend she had said, "I'm afraid that my true love doesn't belong to his realm."
"I know," Morg had smiled, he had heard her say that before, "but can I just tell people you're my girlfriend?" Gen didn't really care. When Morg described her to his friends he called her a fox, though he would never tell Gen he thought that about her; she was much too sophisticated for that word in reality.
Gen laid down on a dolly, sliding underneath the car, tools in her hands. She set to work. Gen was almost finished fixing up the car entirely. She was hoping today would be the day.
"Hey Gen," Gen reached up, and pulled herself out from under the car, to see Morg looking down at her.
"Yeah?" She put down her wrench.
"Me and some of the guys are going to see a movie tonight? Wanna come?"
"No can come," Gen said sliding back under the car, "I'm working late tonight!"
"Why? Couldn't you just take a break tonight?"
"Nope, could you hand me some wire cutters?" Gen stuck her hand out, and Morg handed her a pair of wire cutters, "I need to finish, and soon!"
"Well," Morg stood up, "maybe I'll stay with you. I didn't really want to see the movie, I thought you might want to."
"What was it?"
"Star Wars, Attack of the Clones."
"Seen it."
"You have?"
"Five times."
"Really?"
"It came out months ago," Gen laughed, "I didn't even know it was still in theaters. You go though. It's a good movie, you'll be missing out."
"I'm not really into Star Wars."
"How can you not love Star wars?"
"I dunno."
At eleven Gen and Morg went to Gen's house for Morg's lunch break. They took the bus there, as neither of them could drive. When they got there Gen's parents scolded her for leaving without telling them. She pointed out that she had told them she was going the day before, that they had left without giving her warning, and that she had left a note on the door. They evidently had failed to listen to her, or find her note, how hard they must have looked! The two quickly escaped to the backyard where they ate peanut butter, and jelly sandwiches next to the pool. Gen lived in the good part of town, or rather the rich part of town. Compared with where Morg lived Gen's house was a palace, but Gen always thought of it as a dungeon. It had three floors, and more bedrooms than Gen's family could possibly need. Gen's pool was more like a small man made lake. As they sat on the false rocks, eating the cheapest, and probably lowest class food they could find in the kitchen Gen hated the blatant mockery of nature. After they ate their simple lunch they entered back into the house. After what seemed like hours of begging on hands and knees they got a ride from Gen's older sister to "Joe's Garage." They were only five minutes late.
It wasn't until a bit past sundown when Gen realized a flaw in her plan. Her plan was to stay late finishing her work on the car, and leave with it when no one was there to stop her. In order to leave Greg had to lock up, and he certainly wouldn't leave Gen alone in his garage. Before long it was time to lock up, and Gen was decided that she wouldn't leave until she finished.
"Come on people," Greg shouted as he pulled the garage doors down, and locked them, "closing time." Gen tried to gather up her courage to ask permission to stay late.
"Gen's working late tonight," Gen heaved a great sigh as Morg explained for her, as if it was so simple, and Greg wouldn't be bothered by it at all, "don't worry, I'm staying with her to make sure she doesn't make trouble."
"Okay, but don't stay too late," Greg left. Gen worked silently for a long time, as Morg carried on a one sided conversation with the cement ground. Gen was in trouble. She needed to run this experiment sometime, and she needed to be alone to do it. Before long Gen was sure that everything was as good as it would get, she would just need to distract Morg.
"Hey," Gen whipped her hands off on her jeans, "I think I'm finished."
"Wicked!" Morg stood up from his chair, "We can go home then?"
"What do you say we take it for a test drive?"
"Gen, neither of us has a driver's license."
"So? Haven't you ever driven your dad's car around the block before?"
"Well, duh, but that isn't the point," Morg frowned, "That car isn't registered, plus it's late at night."
"Oh, bah," Gen reached through the window, and turned the key, putting the car into neutral, "You're just a chicken."
"Am not!"
"Then help me push it out into the street."
"Why not just drive it into the street?"
"Because…" Gen had to find an answer that was believable; she couldn't tell him that the car didn't actually drive, "It, er, doesn't go backwards. I haven't been able to figure it out yet, I'll have it in a few days, but it'll go forward well enough." Morg fell for it. Together the two pushed the car down the drive, then out onto the street, "Hey," Gen fumbled with her words, "would you go get my jacket? It's gonna be cold."
"Sure." Morg turned, and walked back into the garage, going to the coat rack, and retrieved Gen's jacket. He carried it out to the drive, and looked about. The car was gone. Gen was gone. The street was empty, and Morg couldn't think what had happened. He hadn't heard a car start.
Second Chapter, whadayathink? I know it was a bit early, but oh well. Please R and R. Expect the next chapter by Monday, if not Friday.