Author's Note: Spring Break rules. Why, you ask? Because I get to update my fics! Woohoo! Okay, um, here's the fourth chapter of this fic. Marco fans, rejoice. Tobias fans, don't kill me, he's up next. There is some d**ns and a**es in here, just so you guys know. I know most people aren't big about this, but I felt I should mention it anyway.
Oh, I hope you guys like this chapter!
Chronicle One
-Marco-
My name is Marco.
I hate mornings.
That day started out like any other one, you know. Get up out of bed seconds before my dad is about to pound the door in, break the world record for the fastest dressing time and run like heck to catch the bus.
Yeah, that's my regular morning for you and this morning was no different. Except that I managed to catch the bus.
"Good Morning." Mumbled Rosie. Rosie is the one responsible for operating the giant vehicle of doom that leads me into purgatory. Rosie's a nice enough person, I suppose, but being a he-she puts a damper on her social skills. On the whole, though, I prefer Rosie to the majority of people on my bus.
As I tried to find a seat while Rosie started up the old hunk-of-junk again, I passed by some jocks making out with their preppie girlfriends. Not a spot to sit on around them and the idea wasn't that appealing in the first place.
I walked by some geeks typing up, well, whatever the crap they were typing up on their computers. No place to sit.
The punks all glared at me in perfect unison. I ran down the aisle before any of them could grab me.
That was when my luck seemed to change. I had found a seat. It was in the back, old and ripped up, but a seat's a seat. You can't be picky about these kinds of things.
So I sat down in the old seat, which looked more like a mass of cotton than anything resembling a seat.
On the bright side, I didn't have to watch jocks and preps making out or try to understand whatever the geeks were rambling on about. Then I put on my headphones and prepared for a long and uncomfortable ride.
It was a second later that I saw her. I kind of knew her, in that "I know your name and face" sort of way.
Of course, how could I not know who she was? Everybody knew her, and not always for the best.
Newest Inductee into the George Washington High Prep Squad, Gymnastics Queen, and all-around Girl You Don't Want To Mess With was looking at me. Rachel Berenson. Odd as it was, she didn't look ready to gut me; which was the expression on her face the two other times I'd seen it in my life. Those were not experiences worth remembering much, one involving a slight explosion in the chem lab and the other was a complete accident.
I had no idea it was the girl's locker room at the time.
"Do you need a place to sit?" Rachel asked me. She seemed to have an honest care, which made me sweat.
"Huh?" I asked, pulling my headphones off my head and turning down my Offspring CD.
"I said, do you need a place to sit?" Rachel asked again. Okay, now I'd ticked her off. Not good at all.
"Nah, this is fine for me." I said, putting my headphones back on and hoping that Rachel wasn't going to kill me.
She reached over and grabbed the wire on my headphones. Then she jerked them off my head.
I looked at my dangling headphones, to Rachel's ticked face and back again. "Stop being an ass." She said.
"I beg your pardon?" I asked, gaping at her. "You steal my headphones and I'm an ass?"
"Yes." Rachel said, not getting a clue about the irony of the situation. "No one wants that thing for a seat." She said.
Then she tossed my headphones back to me. "Let me move my stuff and you can sit next to me on the next stop."
I value my life. Who was I to say no?
A moment all too soon, Rosie commanded the Vehicle of Doom to stop moving so she could pick up another kid.
Rachel sat in the seat ahead of me, glaring with the power of a very pissed off cat. I couldn't believe I was doing this.
I picked up my backpack and walkman and sat down next to GWHS's personal Xena: Warrior Princess.
"Glad to see you've come into the light." Rachel said, and if I'm not wrong, I think she was smiling at me.
"What light?" I asked. "The light of 'come here before I rip off your vitals'?" I asked.
"Bingo." Was Rachel's reply. God, why do I agree to do these kind of things?
After a moment or two of awkward silence, I noticed Rachel looking at me; contemplating something.
"What is it, Queen Berenson?" I asked, hoping to whatever powers that be it'd stop her staring.
Rachel frowned, then looked me in the eyes. "You need a haircut." She said.
"Say what?" I snapped. You see, I happen to be kind of proud of my hair. "Did you want me here just to tell me that?"
Rachel shook her head. "No, I was trying to be nice." She hissed. Then she pointed at my head.
"The haircut itself isn't that bad, but it just doesn't suit you." Rachel told me. "You should consider cutting it."
"I like my hair the way it is." I said as I put my headphones back on my head.
Rachel rolled her eyes up to the ceiling and shrugged. "Your loss." She said.
We didn't talk to each other for the rest of the ride, but I had a feeling that I had, for better or for worse, made a friend out of Rachel Berenson. I think the powers that be must have it out for me.
I happen to find school kind of ironic, myself. But Marco, you're thinking, you find everything ironic. And I do, no doubt there. The thing is that I have a good solid reasons to think school is ironic, and it is this:
We come to school to learn facts. We end up learning about everything else.
No, I'm serious. Think about it for a moment. Your parents send you to school to learn history, math, science, how to glue two things together, whatever. If you're lucky you might learn a few of these things.
In the end, though, school teaches you all of that other stuff. Stuff like how to lie to authority figures, figuring out which foods in the cafeteria are edible (the fact that none of them are notwithstanding), and how to get an early case of herpes or AIDS, whichever your preference. That's the bulk of what you learn in school.
If you're a normal person, that is. It seems that I'm not the typical definition of normal.
"You can't keep on pulling these kinds of stunts in class, Mr. Jones." I looked at Mr. Chapman.
"I told you, I didn't have any idea that was the girls room." I said, watching Chapman shake his head in disbelief.
"I'm willing to believe you there, but the incident in the lab?" Chapman asked, looking almost wild at the thought of making me confess to setting the off stinkbomb that had gone off in Mr. Brian's history class.
"I had nothing to do with that." I said, crossing my arms. Chapman smiled, and leaned over the desk. I fought an overwhelming sense of panic right then and there. If he tried a thing, I was going to morph gorilla and...
What was I thinking?
Chapman had kept on talking, oblivious to my reaction. "I sympathize, I do. Kids can be cruel, and what with the peer pressure these days, I understand that you'd have a need for attention, Mr. Jones. However, our school doesn't condone these kinds of activities. I'm afraid that until you either confess or give us the names of the kids who did do it, we're going to have to make you switch classes." Chapman said, sounding tired from his lecture.
My brain had snapped back on. "You're going to do what?" I asked.
"I'm sorry about it, but Mr. Brian has requested we remove you from his class." Mr. Chapman told me.
I think a fly or two may have flown into my mouth because I couldn't have heard Chapman right. Sure, Mr. Brian had pretty good proof that I was the one who set off the stinkbomb, but he struck me as pretty easygoing about those kind of things. Chapman had to be bluffing; there was no way Mr. Brian was that pissed.
"Do you realize it's rude to gape at people?" Mr. Chapman asked me. I snapped my mouth shut again.
Mr. Chapman coughed and went on with his diatribe. "You'll be reporting to Mrs. Reid's history class this afternoon. I recommend you try not to pull any clever stunts in there, Mr. Jones. Have a nice day." He said.
Chapman then got up out of his seat and I did the same, more than ready to get out of his office. It was nothing personal but something about Mr. Chapman creeped me out. The way I figure it, Chapman's got to be an alien. After all, only an alien would have made me switch history classes. Chapman must've gotten to Mr. Brian.
I had my hand on the doorknob when Chapman spoke. "You know, I could arrange a meeting with a counselor."
I turned around and stared at him. "It's normal for kids to act out after losing a parent, after all." Chapman said.
I slammed the door on my way out.
Sure, he was a vice-principal. Okay, maybe it was possible the guy had my best interests at heart, but how in the world did that give him the right to say that? What kind of a thing was that to say?
In my frustration I hit the wall with my fist. It hurt, but it was less than the pain Chapman's words had brought up.
It was five years ago, when I was ten years old. My mother had drowned. She was dead. The body was never recovered. There were times, of course, that it still made me choke up but I'd gotten over it.
At least, I thought I had. My eyes were stinging but at least I wasn't crying. I was not going to cry. Come on, it was what that asshole Chapman wanted and I was not going to be the person to give him what he wanted.
Chapman was wrong, anyway. I like to joke around and every now and then play pranks on people. I prefer to keep laughing. It's just the way I view life. I think it's better to keep a smile on your face instead of letting the grief swallow you whole. I'd seen what happens when you let the grief take hold of you. My Dad was a perfect example.
My eyes kept burning. I slammed my fist against the wall again, harder this time. It didn't stop the stinging at all.
Flash!
Don't tell the others, Jake. You're the only one who recognized her. I said.
Okay, Marco. Jake said.
I had to make sure he wasn't kidding. I didn't want him to tell a soul. You can't even tell Cassie, okay?
It's okay, man. Jake assured me. You are my oldest and best friend. You know that. No one will ever know from me.
I knew Jake was telling the truth. I was counting on him to keep his word. No one could know this, if I could help it.
Great. I thought. Now I'm losing it.
I pulled myself along, away from Chapman's office, out of the hall. Trying to find a way to laugh off what happened.
I went through the rest of the day like normal. Cracking jokes and surprising the teachers with my passing grades.
My history class had been switched from eighth period to fourth, right before lunch. As a Sophomore, I got what's called "Loser's Lunch", meaning that since I was younger and carless I got to languish in the cafeteria with all the other young and carless instead of going out to eat food that wouldn't kill me. Thank god I'd be sixteen soon.
It was one of those days where time passes the complete opposite of how you want it to. You see, I wanted the first three periods to go by slow so that I could enjoy the time I had before my big class switch. It's not that I minded the fact that I'd have a whole new class, I happen to like introducing myself and all that jazz, though the teachers hate it. I didn't mind having to adjust to a new room full of jocks, punks, band nerds and all-out weirdoes. That did not bother me in the slightest. What bugged me was the fact I knew I'd have more homework.
Mr. Brian was, shall we say, a bit lax in making certain we learned our history.
Despite my wishes the first three periods sped past my eyes. Before I knew it I found myself opening the door to Mrs. Reid's class. I was a few minutes late because, as I told Mrs. Reid, I couldn't find the class. That was not true.
Mrs. Reid didn't seem to care, though.
She took me to the front of the class with her. "Class, we have a new student." She said. Half of them looked up.
"He's transferred from Mr. Brian's history class." Mrs. Reid said, glaring at some laughing redheaded kid.
"Ron, stop laughing." Mrs. Reid said with a steel voice and coughed to bring the class's attention back to me.
"This is our newest student, Marco Jones." Mrs. Reid said. It was then my life started spinning out of control.
His head snapped up and we stared, in equal amounts of shock, at one another. At first I told myself that I was just imaging things, but my mind and my heart weren't going to let me get away with that. I could not deny the simple truth that I knew the boy who staring back at me. Even though he'd been a tiger in my flashback, I knew it was him. The same kid I had, a lifetime ago, known my whole life. My best friend. I was staring at Jake.
"There's a seat behind Tressa, that girl with the green hair." Mrs. Reid told me, pointing at some freaky girl.
I went to my seat with my eyes still on Jake. Mrs. Reid, having done her duty of making certain the class knew that another had joined them, informed us all that we needed to read pages fifty through sixty-seven in our book.
Mr. Brian only had us at page twenty-nine, by the way. After ten minutes of reading until I got to page thirty-six, Tressa the Green had dropped a note onto my desk. "It's not from me." She hissed, glaring at me with evil eyes.
I picked up the note and opened it. My eyes scanned the few words on the page. Part of me, the good side that wanted to keep me from doing things that were beyond sane, told me I shouldn't reply. I ignored that side of me.
I looked around the classroom. My eyes were searching for Jake. I had to give him, somehow, some way the answer to his question. He'd asked me if he knew me. I had to tell him the truth -- yes.
Then I found him. We looked in each other straight in the eyes and I, not sure what I was doing, nodded.
It was so weird the feeling I got then. It was like something had clicked deep inside of me. Something had been put back in place, a something I had no clue was even missing. A something that, I admit, I was glad to have back.
After class ended, we went to the cafeteria together, Jake and me.
Neither one of us discussed how we knew each other. What I mean is that we both knew that we had once been buds, and each of had flashbacks with one another in them. That was all we said about it. I got the feeling Jake didn't want to talk about it, and I sure as hell didn't. I figured I didn't have to press for info anyway, Jake might already remember. I'd figured out Jake liked comic books, though. Excepting one major problem.
The poor fool was convinced that the Man of Steel could kick Spidey's arachnid butt. I would have to help the poor deluded soul see the light, it was my duty as a decent human being. As we sat there with our glop du jour (which I noticed had pineapple, ham, and pickles in it, I swear to you.) I went about my mission.
"You're kidding me." I said to Jake, my face reflecting my disbelief at what he'd said.
Jake sighed. "I am not kidding you." He told me.
I could not believe this. "Then you're insane. There is no way Superman could beat Spiderman in a fight."
"Sure he could!" Jake protested. "Superman's an alien, with insane strength. All Spidey has are webs."
Oh dear god, he was dissing the webslingers. It wasn't possible I'd been friends with this guy, was it?
"Spidey could swing away from about anything Superman can throw at him." I informed Jake. He rolled his eyes.
Then I thought of something else to add. "Spidey could always ruin Clark Kent's career. He is a photographer."
"What's that got to do with anything?" Jake asked. I shrugged. "No one said he could beat him with his powers."
Jake looked skeptical. "I thought that was the point you were trying to make." I didn't grace him with a reply.
I then amused myself by picking apart my slop. I found that along with the pineapple, ham, and pickle there was something that looked a little too much like an eyeball for my comfort. I vowed to never again look at slop.
Two girls then walked by Jake and I. His head snapped up again, like a dog with a thousand whistles.
"Who is that girl?" Jake asked, staring off at one of the two girls. I couldn't tell who they were in the crowd.
"What girl?" I asked him, feeling confused and a little curious to see if she was cute.
Jake pointed at the blonde. I blinked, recognizing her. "That's Rachel." I said, trying to not think about how quick I'd figured that one out. It was my good memory, that's all. Except that I didn't have such a good memory.
"No!" Jake snapped. "Rachel's my cousin, I know who she is. I mean the girl next to her." He said.
"Oh. That's Cassie Branch." I said, then I turned to Jake. "Wait a minute, your cousin is Rachel Berenson?"
Jake nodded and I felt like an idiot. I should've known that they were related, they did have the same last name.
"You have got to be pulling my leg." I said, gaping at Jake. He shook his head. "Nope, no joke." He said.
I decided to joke around a little. "Jeez! If she were my cousin, I'd..." Jake's glare spelled my doom.
"Never mind what I'd do." I finished. Jake looked ill. "That's just sick." He whispered and I played it up.
I gave Jake a shrug. "Yeah, but she's not my cousin." I told him. He shook his head very hard.
It was then that I figured I shouldn't share the fact that I wasn't quite kidding.
Then I saw Jake, the big lummox, staring at the black girl, Cassie, again. She would've seen it if he hadn't dove his head deep into his oh-so-delicious slop. I winced a little, and tried to ignore the queasy feeling I got.
A good action had to be commended, though. "Nice save." I told Jake. He glared at me.
We went back to our debate. I was unsuccessful at converting him to the legion of Spidey fans this lunch period, but I had tons more left to try. In the meantime, I would keep assuring Jake of his mental deficiencies.
I took the bus home, like usual. The only differences between the morning bus and my afternoon bus were two things: Rosie and Rachel. In other words, this bus was hell. Lucky for me it wasn't a very long ride.
I felt a surge of the green-eyed monster, though, as I caught a glimpse of Jake driving off with someone. Could be his brother or his dad. I couldn't tell from the angle. It must be nice not to wait for a bus. I thought.
I used to not have to wait for the bus after school. That was a long time ago, back when I was a kid.
Back when my mom was still alive. Back when my dad wasn't the wreck he is now.
I can't quite remember when I started riding the bus on a regular basis. It wasn't long after Mom died and Dad stopped showing up to work. I do have to give Dad's boss, Jerry, some credit as far as that went. He gave Dad two weeks off to try and get over Mom. Two weeks was not enough. Five years has not been enough.
I'm not angry with my Dad, though. I get it. I understand what a huge loss it's been for him. Because, you see, it's been a huge loss for me. I was like any other kid, you know what I mean? I loved my mom, she was the best in the world. Then she died. Okay, I admit it, I still miss her. But the thing that hurt the most was that when I lost her, I lost my Dad, too. He's still amongst the land of the living, sure, but he doesn't act it. He acts as if he's dead.
It hasn't been easy on me, but it's not like I'm running around asking for pity. I don't need that and I don't want it.
What I needed was to try and read up to page sixty-seven in my History book. Sure, I had loved goofing around in Mr. Brian's class, but now I wished he'd been a little better at making sure we weren't so far behind.
I was almost done with my reading when the bus came to a stop in front of my house. I had three pages left, more than enough to deal with during lunchtime. I stashed my book back in my backpack and got off the bus.
If you couldn't guess, I live in the poor part of town. I used to live in a better part of town. It's like not we were ever rich, but we also never had to double-check that we locked our doors, either. Welcome to my life.
I used my house key and unlocked the door to a rather surprising site. Dad was doing something.
"Why don't you close the door before you let a draft in?" Dad asked. I closed the door, feeling suspicious.
Dad was standing the living room and he was vacuuming. He had to have been cleaning most of the day because our house looked, well, like a real house. Most of the time it resembled a pigsty at best.
"Don't worry, I haven't touched your room." Dad told me and I took a cautious step inside.
I took in a very deep breath. "All right," I said. "Who are you and what have you done with my father?"
Dad laughed at my corny joke. "I am Zarbon of Trillian-695, and I have possessed your parental unit."
If it weren't for the fact that it was such a bad joke, I might have believed him. Something had without a doubt happened to my Dad, and alien possession looked like it'd be as good an explanation as any right about now.
"Okay," I said, trying not to laugh. "What's the truth here?"
"I got my job back." Dad said, trying to vacuum away whatever-the-heck was under the couch.
"You're kidding!" I gasped. Dad shook his head and pulled the vacuum out from under the poor couch. "Nope."
"Dad, that's great." I said, noticing my voice had gone a little soft. Oh, I was not going to get emotional!
"Isn't it?" Dad asked, beaming up at me. I smiled back at him. Yes, it was great. It was great to see my Dad not moping around, to see him picking his life back up after all these years. It was more than I could've asked for.
"What brought this about?" I asked Dad. He shrugged, still letting the vacuum go. "I got tired of janitorial service."
"You mean you're not going to be carrying around a mop and bucket anymore? Is that possible?" I teased.
"As possible as me beating you at Doom." Dad said. Did I mention I can kick anyone's ass at Doom?
"You think so, old man?" I asked. "I think we're going to have play, so I can prove just how wrong you are."
Dad laughed and turned off the vacuum. "Don't get too cocky, now. I always let you win, you know."
I made a rude noise and Dad moved into give me a hug. I didn't quite stop him or anything.
Then he got off of me and booted up the computer. "This might take a while." Dad told me, smiling again.
"You might want to consider ordering a pizza." He told me. I did a fake bow. "Why, of course, sir." I said.
So I headed to the phone and Dad turned on Doom in the meantime. I ordered half-pepperoni, for me and half-ham for Dad and a large bottle of Pepsi. The guy on the phone said it'd be there in about ten minutes.
I raced back to the living room and got ready to kick Dad's butt. I'm a nice guy, though, so I let him win.
No, I swear, I'm not kidding. I could've beaten him any day, but I'm just nice enough to let him win.
I had no idea what was going to happen the next day.
I got to the bus on time for what could be the first time in my life. Yes, I did sit next to Rachel again, but it was no big deal. She seemed surprised that I knew Jake, though. I didn't mention the flashbacks to her, just so you know.
When we got off the bus, Rachel and I parted ways. She went off to go find her friends. I went off to go find Jake.
Yesterday he'd promised me that he was going to meet me out in the front of the school before classes began.
So I waited out front for five minutes without any sign of him, and I was starting to get ticked. There were only five more minutes until the bell rang and first period started. Either something had happened or he'd ditched me.
I counted off the seconds until the next minute passed. I wasn't in the mood to stand and wait, after all.
"Twenty-five, twenty-six." I counted to myself. "Twenty..." Then I saw him. Jake.
He looked forty years older than the guy I'd been talking to during lunch the day before. It made me shudder.
"Hey." I croaked out, my voice sounding so different from normal. "What's up?" I asked.
Jake's face looked up at me, and I could see the wrinkles forming years too early. "We need to talk." He said.
Then and there things reached the point that I could not convince myself that something was wrong. I could not have joked about Jake being out partying all night or something like that. This was a thousand times more serious than that. I had the feeling this was going to be something I had no desire whatsoever to hear.
"Talk about what?" I asked, watching as Jake looked around him, a hint of paranoia in his eyes.
"What is Tom?" He asked me, his eyes boring into mine. "What's happening to my brother?"
I had no idea what Jake was talking about. At least, that's what I told myself. I ignored the gut feeling I had that, yes, I knew without a shadow of a doubt what Jake was talking about but there was no way I would admit that.
"What do you mean 'What is Tom'?" I asked Jake. "Have you lost it?"
Jake lowered his head and ran a nervous hand through his hair. "I don't know." He said, doubt in his voice.
"You've heard of The Sharing, haven't you?" Jake asked me. I nodded. Yeah, I'd heard of the place. It was kind of like a coed Boys and Girls club for adults and kids. Not like I have anything against bettering society, but it wasn't my kind of place. Still, I had heard of it. It was pretty popular around school, lots of kids went there.
"My brother's a full member." Jake said, and I laughed. "You mean one of those tree-hugging let dogs vote kids?"
Jake laughed, but I noticed it was a bitter laugh. "Yeah, Tom's one of those."
I blinked. Something about that name was familiar and I knew I didn't want it to be. "Poor you." I joked.
Jake gave me a half-hearted smile in reply. "I went with him to The Sharing last night." He told me.
Jake's voice grew soft and dark. "Everything was normal, until Tom started teasing me about becoming a full member. Then," Jake ran another hand through his hair, his voice shaking now. "Then it was like, I don't know, like he was having a heart attack. Or a seizure, maybe. That's what the doctors said. That's what that guy, Victor Trent, said. But I don't think that's what it is. I mean, Tom, he-he told me to run from The Sharing." Jake said.
I almost felt flies mosey on into my mouth, I was so shocked. "Run from the Sharing?" I asked.
Jake nodded in a brisk movement. "Yeah." He said. "It was as if it were the most important thing in the world, to tell me that. And then, this morning, he's all right again, you know? So I ask what that was all about and he doesn't tell me one damn thing!" I almost jumped, surprised by the level Jake's voice had taken on. People were staring.
"You might want to quiet it down." I whispered. "People are looking at you, man."
Jake smiled, nodded. "Of course, Marco. Good 'ol Marco, always watching my back, right?" He asked.
Now I was confused and more than a little frightened. "What the hell are you talking about?" I asked Jake.
"My flashback." Jake said, staring straight into my eyes. "You told me Tom was one of them. You warned me."
"I told you what?" I whispered. On instinct I grabbed my head as it came back to me. Tom, Jake's brother, being way too nice to us. Playing video games with us. Asking us about the kids with fireworks at the construction site.
Asking about us. I remembered knowing, no doubt in mind, that Tom had to be a Controller.
What was a Controller? I looked up again, back at Jake. At that sad expression in his eyes.
"You remember, don't you?" He asked. Wishing to the powers that be it wasn't true, I nodded. I had remembered.
"There's something wrong with Tom, and there's something wrong with the Sharing." Jake said.
Yes, there was. I could not deny the truth of Jake's words. They were facts from a life I'd forgotten.
I'm not sure why in my right mind I ever mentioned it. I could have let my life go on like it should have. It wouldn't be too hard, in the long run, to forget what Jake had told me. To pretend that everything was all right.
But I said it anyway. "We're not the only ones." I told Jake, letting my hands relax and letting go of my head.
"In mine, there were others." I said. "We were with other people, it wasn't just you and me."
Jake nodded, very slow. "Yeah, I kind of remember." He said. "There were...three or four others."
I nodded in agreement. "There were six altogether, I think." I said to Jake. He looked at me for a moment.
"What happened?" He asked. "I mean, in yours?" My mouth shut up again. I didn't want to tell him, though I'm not sure why. Some part of me wanted, more than anything in the world, to keep this hidden.
I told him anyway.
"We were a tiger and a gorilla." I said, laughing a little. It was Jake's turn to gape at me. "Are you serious? How?"
I shrugged. "Don't ask me, I just know that's how it was." I said, and then I fought with myself. I fought with the urge inside of me that told me to not tell Jake about the other part of my flashback, and the knowledge that he needed to know. The feeling that I, too, needed to know what that meant. That I already suspected it.
"I also told you not to tell the others." I said. Jake looked confused. "Not to tell them what?" He asked.
The words fell from my mouth before I could think them, before I could stop them. "About my mother." I said.
Jake took a step back. I heard the bell ring. "Oh, god." He whispered. "She's one of them, too, isn't she?"
I laughed and I knew, deep inside, I was lying. "Doubt it. She's dead, don't you remember?"
From the look on his face, Jake had not remembered this. But he didn't look convinced in the slightest.
"If my superjock brother can have a seizure, then your mother can be alive." Jake said.
It was the last thing I wanted to hear. "You're nuts, Jake." I snarled. "What normal guy has flashbacks, huh?"
Jake's eyes glittered in anger. He was not going to play along. "If I'm nuts, then so are you." He whispered.
"How do you know I wasn't playing along, you freak?" I challenged, trying to stare Jake down.
It didn't do a thing. "Because my brother had a seizure in front of a ton of people. This is all real." Jake said.
"No, it's not!" I shouted. I started storming off back to the school, along with the usual crowd of late kids.
"You're just some sick, twisted freak and none of this is real." I said. Jake started following me.
I turned to look at him. "None of it is real, do you hear me? None of it!" I shouted.
Jake looked like I slapped him. "Marco..." His voice was soft, calm, reasoning. I refused to listen to it.
"Look, your brother has some kind of condition." I told Jake. "And my mother is good and dead, god damn it!"
"You know that's not true." Jake said and I turned away, unable to look at him. Couldn't he just shut up?
"Oh, and it's true that you and I were once best friends who could turn into animals? It was true that your brother was a Controller? You expect me to believe it's true that my mother is not dead? What is your problem?" I roared.
"Keep it down." Jake ordered. "I don't want to believe it either, but I can't deny it. You can't either." He said.
Then he gave me an affectionate smile. "Not that you aren't trying like hell to do it."
"Then what do you suggest we do, O Great and Fearless Leader?" I whispered, my voice bitter.
"We need to find these others somehow." Jake said, not looking at me. I was glad for that.
Jake took in another deep breath. "We need to find out what's wrong with The Sharing, too."
I laughed, having a pretty good guess at what was coming next. "And you want me to help you?" I asked.
Jake's voice was quiet. Not pleading, though, just asking. For something I couldn't give. "Yes." He said.
I crossed my arms and shut my eyes. "All right, you psycho." I hissed. "But not because I believe you."
"I'm not going to be the one held responsible for letting you go on whatever crazy goose chase you've cooked up, Jake Berenson. Maybe you're right and we're both crazy. Maybe something is up with your brother." I said.
"But I will tell you, for the last time, that my mother is not alive. If anything, I'll help you just to prove that." I told him.
Then I looked him in the eyes. "We'd better hurry, I think we're ten minutes late." I said. We went inside the school.
Jake and I did not talk for the rest of the day. We said nothing to each other in History.
We didn't eat lunch together, either. I hung out with a few geeks I knew while Jake hung with some preppie kids.
I went home and faked enthusiasm over Dad getting hired again. I was happy about it, though.
I have a picture of my mom on my dresser. When I went to bed that night, I spent what felt like hours just staring at it. Hours spent playing the coversation Jake and I in my head over and over. Hours spent asking myself what kind of idiot was I, to agree to doing what Jake had asked of me? How could I believe what he'd said?
I turned Mom's picture upside down. I couldn't look at it anymore. I couldn't think about this anymore.
Jake Berenson was sick in the head, that was all. Maybe we both were.
Because he couldn't be right.
Now now, Ladies and Gents...(reviewer response)
Freak Apple - I don't have a problem reviewing, I like your story! And I like dancing, too! You're right, I think we should all dance! **snaps her finger and a disco ball comes from out of nowhere** Come on!
Silver - I'm happy you liked the story and the quote. Oh yeah, and Tobias is coming up next, and he might have a memory or two of his dad, you never know. =)
Puar Briefs - I agree with you that Tobias's name couldn't be Fangor. Like you said, Mr. Fangor no longer resides on this planet. Augh, I'm going to have to come up with a good last name for Birdboy, though. And I'm not lost yet! Oh, glad you enjoyed the Marco/Jake Supes/Spidey part, by the way. Let's see if I can decipher the other thing you mentioned -- Spidey/Peter Parker has to sneak into Batman/Bruce Wanye's mansion to get the Kryptonite he needs to defeat Superman/Clark Kent, but since he can't get past the security at Wanye manor, he lives for either Smalltown and/or Metropolis, both places where Kent has lived, in order to obtain said Kryptonite. Wow, am I good or what? Know that I think about it, I just revealed my far-too-high knowledge of comics, but that's okay. =P Hey, hey, I never said Andalites CAN'T drive, I'm just not sure they'd drive well. Better than a gorilla or a Hork-Bajir (ever read #51?), but still. Call it a sense that Ax wouldn't be as good with vehicles at his brother, who is infused with MUSTANG POWER! Okay, I watched Children of Dune too many times. Right. Oh yes, and Jake's parents splittin' up, that's a barrel full of twisty. Don't worry. And I think VIVA LAS MARCO is French. Plural french, actually. Oui, je parle francais. =P
Kreepy Kat - Glad you liked it! And better than KAA? No way, she's published and I'm not! Could be 'cuz I haven't finished anything of my own, but that's gotta make her a better writer than me. I'd try publishing this but I don't think that's legal.
Angelofcloud9 - Yay! You liked it! **cheers** Man, us poor single gals. **sniffs** Doesn't it suck? Oh well, I guess writing romance will help that. =P Oh yes, and they're be R/T and J/C ahead and a plenty. No worries there!
MysticAnubisOFtheRING - Glad you like it.
Lauren - Wow, hi! **waves** I'm glad you like the flashbacks, and I'll get everyone together soonish. Um, Ax will show up after Tobias. That's all I can say right now. And here's the next chapter, so you don't have to keep waiting!
Neri - Gah! I'm doing these chappies as quick as I can! Glad you liked the Jake chapter, and the others go in this order: Marco, Tobias, and Ax. Woohoo.
DJ Eagle - Well, thanks again for the idea! Glad you liked the Marco/Jake stuff, and as to answer your question, they aren't all anomalies (spelling, anybody?) as much as they aren't 100% stable. That's all I'm gonna say for now. Of course, the REAL answer is that I just wanted to write it that way, but there is an explanation. You'll see. Since you asked, I think it's spelled anomaly. Anyone wanna check that?
HoneyB - **looks down** Unless I aged a few twenty years and had two kids in my sleep, I don't think I'm KAA. But, hey, it could be possible, I guess. Don't worry, Tobias is next and you should get some R/T. Oh, I didn't like Rach's death, either. **sigh**