7. He wasn't ashamed of being poorer than his friends; he just didn't want any pity (he told himself).
"Where do you come from?" Yumi asks.
"Hm? France," Jeremie replies.
Yumi rolls her eyes and adds another piece of rubbish to the bag she's dragging around with her. She had taken it upon herself to clear some of the factory so no one ended up with tetanus and Jeremie was too tired to argue with her on it.
"I know that," she replies. "I meant where in France?"
"Oh. Reims, it's north east of here." He looks over at her. "Why?"
Yumi shrugs. "I don't know much about France still," she replies. "We've only been here and Paris. Is it a big city? What do your parents do?"
Jeremie returns his attention to the super computer. "It's decent-sized. My mom tutors and my dad…" Yumi looks over, waits patiently. "My dad is kind of a handyman," he says finally. "I guess that's what you'd call it."
Yumi studies him, nods slowly. "What's Reims like?"
"It's nice, lot of fields and champagne surrounding it. It gets cold there in the winter, colder than here."
"Any brothers and sisters?"
"No, only child," he answers. "Why are you asking all these questions?"
Yumi shrugs again, pausing in her cleaning to gesture around the factory. "Well, looks like we'll be working together and there's nothing else to really talk about. I thought we'd get to know each other, if that's okay?"
"Oh. Yeah, that's…that's fine," Jeremie replies. He looks over at her. "Uh…any siblings?"
Yumi smiles at him. "Oh yeah, annoying little twerp of a brother," she answers.
. . … . .
It's not that he's ashamed of how much money his parents have (or don't have as the case may be). He always had decent clothes, a warm bed, and food in his stomach. It was the little things that he was missing, or the fact that his dad had to pick up an extra shift here, an extra job there. He got to play the new video games when he went over to Patrick's, and he also got to wear the clothes Patrick outgrew without destroying.
His mother had an old, battered upright piano in the corner of the front room. The keys were chipped, the wood scratched, but the tones were still deep and vibrant. She taught lessons to the neighborhood children for extra money. Jeremie remembers sitting at the kitchen table doing his homework and listening to a child plunking uncoordinatedly at the keys. Somehow it still sounded alright.
. . … . .
"Einstein, come on. It's dying."
"Shut-up, Odd, it's fine." Jeremie moves the mouse experimentally but the screen is still frozen. "It's just thinking."
"You're smarter than this," Odd protests. "It's one step away from the blue screen of death."
"Odd's right," Ulrich adds. He leans over Jeremie's other shoulder and studies the frozen laptop. "It's time for a new one."
"It's fine."
"Come on, Jer. What are you waiting for? It to die in the middle of your program?"
Jeremie frowns at the computer screen, ignoring the two boys hanging over the back of his computer chair. He taps one of the keys and sees the cursor spin.
"Don't you have a birthday coming up?" Odd asks. "Just ask your folks to send you a new one. It's what I did when Ulrich spilled soda on mine last month."
"I spilled soda?"
"You threw the ball at my head, ergo you spilled soda." Odd bounces away from the chair and flops onto Jeremie's made-up bed. "Just pick out a new super-technical one and ask for it as an early birthday present."
Jeremie opens his mouth to protest again when suddenly the circle disappears and the computer resumes running. "See, I told you it was just thinking," Jeremie replies. He clicks open the program he'd wanted to show them.
"You're just prolonging it," Ulrich says. "So, what's the new program?"
/
Jeremie frowns at the wrapped box sitting on his desk.
He sets his bag down carefully by the door and approaches his desk as though the box is liable to explode. He's friends with Odd, so it isn't out of the realm of possibilities. The box is wrapped in garishly bright green wrapping paper with a crooked white bow on top.
Carefully he pulls the bow off and eases the tape loose. When he's finally got it unwrapped he sees that it's a new laptop. He frowns at it, confused. It's the newest model and would have cost a small fortune. There's no card on or around the box, but he has a suspicion who could be responsible.
He grabs the box and crosses his room, pulls open his door to go confront the two boys down the hall.
"HAPPY BIRTHDAY!"
Jeremie jumps in surprise, nearly dropping the new laptop. Ulrich, Odd, and Yumi are standing in the hallway. Yumi's holding a tart, Odd a bouquet of balloons, and Ulrich a camera pointed at him and recording the whole embarrassing ordeal. He blinks at them and Yumi gives him a bright smile.
"Do you like it?" she asks.
"We weren't sure which to get you," Odd adds. "There's a lotta options."
"We went with speed and memory, but you can exchange it if you need something else," Ulrich says.
Jeremie blinks at them all again. He shifts the box and feels his face heat. "Uh, yeah, it's great," he says. "How? Why?"
"You needed a new laptop, Jer," Ulrich replies. "It was nothing."
"We all chipped in some," Yumi adds. "It was better getting you something you need."
"So, gonna invite us in?" Odd asks. "Yumi made a tart and I'm starving!"
. . … . .
He's ten when he discovers Kadic and their robotics program. It's everything he could have hoped for in a school – except it's several hours by train from home and costs a small fortune to attend. He's ten though, and he's foolish enough to think it's something he can have. He brings the flyer home from school and grins as he hands it to his mother.
"What's this?"
"A school, Maman. They have robots." He bounces on his toes, grinning at her. "I could go there for college!"
His mother looks over the flyer, finger slowly tracing each word. "You would want to leave us?" she asks eventually. "Paris is a long way."
"Only a few hours by train, I looked it up," he replies proudly. "Do you think they'd want me?"
"I don't see why not," she replies, smiling at him. "You're brilliant, mon petit chou. Any school would want you." She looks back at the flyer. "We'll tell your father tonight."
/
His father has that tired smile he's worn for the last year on when he gets home. The lines in his face deepen as he looks over the flyer, but eventually he nods. He looks at Jeremie, hands resting on his shoulders as he crouches down in front of him. "It's a vigorous school, Jeremie," he says. "You will need to study hard to get in."
"I'm the best in my class!" he announces.
His father smiles, adjusts Jeremie's glasses. "Then we have nothing to worry about, eh?" he asks.
The lines in his father's face stay with him though, and after his mother has tucked him into bed he creeps back to the front room to listen to his parents talk. They're in the small kitchen, his father washing up while his mother sips tea.
"We just can't afford it, Jeanne. Not now."
"No," his mother agrees. "But he wants to go so badly, Michel, how can we say no?" Jeremie hears the soft clunk as she sets her cup down on the table. "And anyway, in a year or two it may be better."
"And if it's not? Two years of getting his hopes up for nothing?"
"We just have to hope it works out. All the best things do," his mother replies.
The talk turns to farming and grapes and Jeremie loses interest. He creeps back to his room, stares at the flyer for the school hanging off his corkboard. If his parents can't afford to send him, he'll just have to earn his way there. He's top of his class after all.
. . … . .
Aelita bounces over to him as soon as he exits the dorms. "Odd's invited us to visit this summer!" she exclaims, grinning. "Isn't that amazing?"
"Uh…" Jeremie replies. She loops her arm through his, tugging him toward the others.
"Yumi's going back to Japan, but Ulrich might be able to make it. It'll be so much fun!"
"Hey, Einstein," Odd greets. He glances between Jeremie and Aelita. "I guess Princess told you, huh?"
"Norway for the summer?" he asks.
"Yup!" Odd replies. "Well, maybe not the whole summer, but a few weeks at least. My mom's excited to meet my school pals."
"And that sounds horrifying," Ulrich states. Odd elbows him into silence.
"I'm sorry I'll miss it," Yumi replies. Jeremie glances at her. He can't tell if she's serious or lying through her teeth. "I'd like to see where you spawned from," she adds.
"Ha-ha-ha, so funny," Odd replies. He sticks his tongue out at her. "So, you in?" he asks, looking at Jeremie.
Jeremie shrugs, adjusts his glasses. "I have to check with my parents," he says finally. "They might have plans."
Aelita stares at him with wide, guileless eyes. "But they'll probably say yes, right? For a week at least? It would be great to get away from everything, wouldn't it?"
"I'll see," Jeremie lies.
/
"How is Maman?" he asks when his father calls on Saturday.
"She's sleeping," his father replies. "She had treatment on Friday."
"How are her hands?"
"The neuropathy is getting worse," his father admits. "She can't hold her books anymore without dropping them." Jeremie lays on his bed and stares up at the off-white ceiling. "She's looking forward to seeing you again. Only a few more weeks, huh?"
"Yes," Jeremie replies.
"It'll be good to have you around again," his father says. Jeremie listens as his father relates news from his aunt about Patrick, listens as he skims over the latest treatments with genuine optimism. He's quieter than usual though, and his father picks up on it. "Jeremie, everything alright?"
"Yes, Papa," he replies. "It's been a long day."
When Aelita looks at him expectantly the next day he simply shakes his head. Even if his mother had been feeling better, he'd known that it wouldn't happen. His family didn't have the money to send him north for a week or two in the summer.
"Oh no, really?" she asks.
"We're visiting my grandmother," he lies. "And it's my cousin's birthday."
Odd gives him a long, considering look. "Another time, yeah, Einstein?" he asks.
"Yeah, definitely," he agrees.
/
"What's this?" Jeremie asks, looking at the envelope and ticket.
"You never visited me in Norway," Odd replies, "so you're making up for it by visiting us in Scotland for the New Year."
"Odd, I can't-"
"You one hundred percent can," Odd interrupts. "Yumi and Aelita already agreed."
"Come on, Jer," Ulrich adds. "You'll miss us by then."
Jeremie stares at the ticket in his hands. He looks up at Ulrich and Odd. "I can pay you back for it."
"Don't worry about it," Ulrich replies. "Think of it as an early Christmas present."
Jeremie nods. He's still staring at the ticket when Aelita knocks on the door. Odd lets her in and she smiles when she sees Jeremie holding the ticket. "Isn't it great?" she asks. "I was worried about seeing each other again, but this is perfect! I've never been to Scotland, have you?"
"No," Jeremie replies. He looks up and grins at them. "I've never been out of the country," he admits.
"Well, we're rectifying that travesty," Odd says. "First Scotland, then Norway in the summer." He glances over at Ulrich. "Think Yumers will take us to Japan with her next time she goes back?"
Ulrich considers it. "I don't think Japan is ready for you," he says finally.
Odd throws a pillow at Ulrich's head and it devolves to the two wrestling. Aelita sits down next to Jeremie, her fingers tangling with his. He looks over at her curiously and she gives him a small, warm smile. He squeezes her fingers, folding the ticket and carefully placing it in his pocket for safe-keeping.
. . … . .
It's not that he was ashamed of how much money his parents had (or didn't have as the case may be). He always had a loving home, a warm meal, and parents who made it work no matter what. He didn't have the newest technology – his phone was given to him when he enrolled in Kadic and his laptop was a gift from his aunt and uncle for his birthday. He'd had to wear Patrick's hand-me-downs, and he'd had to put up with the teasing from his classmates when they'd noticed, the snide comments that his father worked multiple jobs around town.
Coming to Kadic had been a release from that mindset. He'd gotten in on a scholarship, but so had others. It was a fresh start where no one knew his family, no one knew Patrick. And he hadn't wanted his friends to judge him or pity him like the people back home. It takes him five years to realize that they never cared about it to start with.
Looking back, he feels kind of foolish that he hadn't noticed earlier.