Chapter 1 – A Tale about Something

Some old guy once wrote in an incredibly boring book "It was the best of times; it was the worst of times." I obviously haven't read that book, and I don't even know who that old guy was. All I know is that one line and something about a French prison.

Now I may not be in a French prison, but this day really was going so well. Final day of sixth grade, and then it would be the start of the summer. Everything was pretty much perfect, I just needed to finish out the day.

One really could say, it was the best of times.

Up until the point where two highschoolers busted down the door to my aunt's apartment and started waving glowing metal swords around.

That would be the worst of times.


My life was perfectly, and completely normal. For the most part.

My parents died when I was too young to remember them, and so I've lived with various aunts and uncles as I grew up. I don't remember much of the early years, as I'm sure most kids would agree with. Vague get-togethers, the occasional vacation, and multiple kitchen fires (try as she might, Aunt Stacy's pancakes always ended in disaster) were really all I knew.

A good boring and standard life.

Sure, I have trouble in school. English is not my first language, and in fact, I don't really have a first language. Before I started going to school, my aunts and uncles tried teaching me many different languages, all trying to find the best one. English, Spanish, Italian, Hebrew, etc.

They ended up throwing so many at me and absolutely none of them stuck. They all bounced around and ended up teaching me nothing. Eventually I just had to re-learn actual English, and not some Frankenstein's monster of a dialect, in school.

Yes, I also can't sit still and have a tick where my knee bounces uncontrollably all day every day.

And do I sometimes get into fights with random kids over absolutely nothing? No. They had it coming. Although, President Hudson at the school board would have you think differently.

"Troubled kid" is what he calls me. Yeah right, troubled my ass. Or I guess I should say, troubled my butt.

It's all a part of growing up is what it is. Naturally, boys will get into fights with other boys, it's just the way it is.

When Allen wants to take an extra milk carton from the lunch line, and the lunch ladies won't let him, where does he look to get one? For some reason, he tries taking my milk carton, which I disagree with. I like having my milk carton, and hence, Allen goes home with a bloody nose and black eye.

Sometimes Drew likes to be a jokester, and push people off the swings at recess. None of us think it's any funny, but we just let him do his own thing. Until he pushed me off, and Drew goes home with a bloody nose and black eye.

Then there was the time with Caden, the time with Jacob, and so on and so forth. Sure, I've gotten pretty beat up as well, but my Uncle Alex always says to not start fights you don't plan on finishing. And I always finish my own fights, either by winning or losing.

But that's enough of the negatives.

My name is Ryan Hadley, I'm 12 years old, and I'm getting kicked out of Preston Full Junior High.

At least, about to be kicked out.

Once the school year is over.

Which, luckily enough, is today.

All I had to do was show up and check out. As the saying goes, 'Easy as pie'.

"RYAN! FOOD IS READY!" I hear somebody yell from the kitchen. Of course, that somebody is Uncle Phil, the only relative I have that can cook without bringing the fire department along for dinner.

"I'M COMING! GIVE ME A SECOND!" I yell back, jumping out of my bed and hastily throwing on jeans and a t-shirt. The t-shirt changes day to day (today being a ninja turtle shirt), but the jeans stay the same. Hardly ever wash them, so I guess that's another tally for me being a "troubled kid".

I spin into the bathroom, do my duty, then try and fix my hair to the best of my ability.

Despite my best efforts with comb or brush, my tangled black hair looks the same as it always does. Tangled and black.

I catch my own brown eyes in the mirror, look at my perpetually busted lip (combination of no chap-stick and constantly getting hit), and can't help but grinning. I look like a street rat, which is perfect. Aunt Stacy is always getting onto me about looking like this, saying I should keep up appearances, but I don't really care. I like looking like this. It's fun not worrying about things.

"FOOD IS ON THE TABLE! GET OVER HERE BEFORE IT GETS COLD RYAN!" Uncle Phil yells again, breaking me away from my appearance.

I race across the quite large apartment, and right into the kitchen where my two guardians are sitting down eating bacon and eggs.

Uncle Phil is devouring his stack, while Aunt Stacy is sitting down and reading the newspaper while drinking her, at this point in the morning, likely third cup of coffee.

"Good morning, Uncle Phil! Good morning, Aunt Stacy!" I cheerfully say, sitting down and digging into the French toast and bacon.

"Rather cheerful today, are we Ryan?" asks Aunt Stacy in her usual serious tone. "Isn't today the last day at your school? After this we have to find another one… don't we?"

"Ehh, stop it you old hag. Let the boy have his fun. It's still his last day of sixth grade," replies Uncle Phil, barely even looking up from his food.

"It could be his last day of school period at this point, but fair enough," says Aunt Stacy, smiling. "However, I know you know that I'm barely older than you are."

"Six– years is quite a gap in my opinion," he replies.

"Not on the cosmic level," I say, my mouth still full of bacon. "That's what we've been learning this last week. The universe is so massive that a couple years barely even matter to it. Or lives and the life of Earth is just a penny compared to the Empire State Building. Something like that."

Aunt Stacy smiles sweetly and says, "I bet it is. But don't talk with food in your mouth. It makes you look like a hick. And do hurry, your Aunt Lilly will be here soon to pick you up. She really wanted to drive you on your last day."

For the first time this morning I looked up into the loving eyes of two of my not-parents.

As much as I love her, Aunt Stacy is by far, the scariest woman I have ever met. Raven black hair, black eyes, and taunt pale skin, she always seems to be looking right into your soul. Every day I'm alive I thank whatever God is out there, that I have her on my side and not against me. Just the thought of her being mad at me is usually good enough to keep me out of trouble (major trouble that is).

On the other hand, Uncle Phil is the complete opposite. As opposed to tall and thin, Uncle Phil is short and round. Shorter than even me, at a little under 5' 5". Usually this wouldn't be too out of the ordinary, but Uncle Phil has vibrant orange and red hair, sticking up and extra foot off his head. Makes him seem a lot taller than he is, which is fine. It makes meeting new people fun.

While Uncle Phil is fun, Aunt Stacy is serious. One is loud, the other quiet. One's a night owl, the other's an early riser. Complete and total opposites. They've raised me for most of my life.

And I love them more than anything in the world.

As I sit there eating, Uncle Phil and Aunt Stacy return to the conversation they were probably having earlier.

"They're saying it was stolen," says Aunt Stacy, looking at the newspaper.

"By who?" asks Uncle Phil, sounding invested in the news for the first time ever.

"Whom. By whom," I say, correcting my uncle.

"Well hey, it looks like you learned something out of that school," says Uncle Phil, almost proud of being corrected.

"Whoever stole it is staying anonymous. Probably don't want to be arrested by those nutjobs running the place and put into that circus they call the court."

"What was stolen?" I ask, interested now.

"Some rich guy's painting. He says his house was broken into last week, but just today the article came out. Something's fishy with that. Somebody is lying and– "

"Yeah, yeah, and we don't lie in this house. And you know I don't," I say, interrupting the inevitable speech and taking a peek at the clock. "Crap, it's already 8:20. I gotta go."

"Don't speak like that young man. At least not in front of us. And you best be on your way. Lunch is on the counter," Aunt Stacy says pointing out the green lunch box.

Uncle Phil looks up from his food, and for a split second, there's a flash of fear in his blue eyes before it's gone in an instant. Replaced by his usual jolly self. "Today is probably going to be the longest day of your life Ryan. The end of sixth grade is nothing to sneeze at. You're going to have a lot of fun today, but it'll probably be a little–"

"Weren't you the one telling me off for lecturing Ryan?" interrupts Aunt Stacy. "I'm sure he will be fine today. Just know that all of us are always with you."

They're not usually this sappy in the morning, they must be trying to make me feel better for getting kicked out of school. Not that I feel bad about that, it's just the way it is now.

"It's fine, I get it. I'll see ya'll when I get back," I say, waving as I step outside the apartment and into the open air of Dallas.


Down the stairs and to the left, a grey Honda is waiting for me. Waving to me from the driver's side window is my Aunt Lilly, excited to drive me to school.

Usually, I hitch a ride from the bus or a friend, but my last day being my last day, Aunt Lilly volunteered to drive me there. I excitedly walked over to the car, open the door, and get jumped by a back shadow leaping out of the car.

My backpack slams onto the ground as a 100-pound rottweiler leaps onto my stomach, completely tearing me apart limb from limb. Well, close to that.

"Get off me Felix, I know, I know," I say, pushing the slobbering dog off of me. Despite what I just said, I was not mauled to death, more just attacked by a teddy bear. "It's good to see you too buddy."

"DOWN BOY!" I hear Aunt Lilly scream, and immediately, Felix jumps to the side and whimpers.

I smile, and stand back up, fixing my ruffled clothing. "It's fine, he's just excited to see me, aren't you, you big killer," I say, grabbing his head and petting him ferociously as his tail sounds like a drum hitting the concrete.

I jump into the car, followed by Felix who does all but sits on my lap as I continue to pet him. "I'm sorry about him Ryan, he doesn't get out much these days and he's always so excited to see you– "

"Yeah, I know. Don't worry about it. I'm just happy I can get a ride today."

"Oh, of course baby. I couldn't help but volunteer when I heard it was your last day. Seemed like just yesterday you were starting kindergarten."

Now Aunt Lilly is a very busy woman. She's constantly out and about fixing problems in the world, as she works as a dementia doctor helping to treat the elderly who develop problems with their memories. She's always spending late nights in the hospital, but whenever she gets the chance to come over and help Aunt Stacy or Uncle Phil, she rushes right over.

I've also known Felix since he was just a puppy. Him and I basically grew up together, if you could call it that. He started off so small and cute, but now he probably has the strength to pull a truck and win a fight against a grizzly bear. Not that he ever would. I had never seen a dog so scared of pasta, until we spilled a pot of spaghetti on the ground, and he ended up breaking a marble counter.

Anyways, Aunt Lilly is just talking about her newest online gambling profits, while I look out the window and pet Felix, much to his happiness. I fade out more and more from the conversation, just enjoying the car ride to school that I very rarely have these days.

Before I can completely black out though, we arrive at Preston Full Junior High.

"Now I heard today is your last day here, period. I hear you got into one-too-many fights and they're kicking you out," Aunt Lilly says, turning around to face me and getting serious out of nowhere. She tends to be a pretty easy-going lady, but working with patients as they forget their families will toughen you up quickly.

"Yeah, they're saying I'm 'troubled'. Whatever that means."

Aunt Lilly's face hardens up as she then says, "Baby, all of us are 'troubled'. We all got our own shit going on. You just have to know what's a gift and what ain't. You're a smart kid, Ryan. One of the brightest I've ever met. You can't let this start bringing you down, and you can't let this happen again. Got it?"

The car suddenly grows silent as I listen to Aunt Lilly. Even Felix is looking up at her, and it almost looks like he is nodding along in agreement. I follow his example, nod, and say, "Of course auntie. I wasn't planning on making this a repeating event."

She sighs and says, "I know you weren't baby. I just wanna make sure you end up ok. All of us only want the best for you. Now go out there and face the music."

"Yes ma'am," I say, and give her a kiss on the cheek. "Love you."

"You too," she says. "Oh, and I'm going to have to drop Felix off at your place with Stacy and Phil, I've gotta be down at Richard's (her hospital) for a couple days straight. I'll clear it with Stacy, just don't be surprised to be tackled when you get home."

I laugh and say, "Of course, see you later."

And with that, I give one last belly rub to Felix, and step out of the car and walk towards my school. Excited for the day to end, having no clue what was in store for me.


Sorry for ending with a cliche, I couldn't help myself.