Third Street Elementary. The Future:
The more things change, the more they stay the same. After a few decades since a certain band of six children had passed through those hallowed grounds, the school had seen any number of new faces as one year rolled on to the next. But the building somehow still seemed the same. Sure the computers got updated, the TVs were no longer tube but now flat panels, technology and teaching strategies marched on, but the school looked no different, and more importantly the playground didn't either.
And as the wheel of time kept turning what was old became new again as the next generation of students from those who came before found themselves appearing. Once more at the same school, once more at recess, once more having the same conversations.
"Y-you don't know anything!" came a timid response to a statement posed by a fellow student.
Her name: Heather Detweiler, a petite raven-haired young girl in fourth grade. Normally wearing her hair down; her appearance, her clothing, was not much different than her fellow students. Long-sleeved shirt, jean skirt, things like that.
"But it's true. Your mom, Ashley Spinelli, liked to think she was the terror of the playground but she was all talk. Then after college I heard she became a professional wrestler. She made it to the top of the mountain and then suddenly she stopped doing it for no reason. Why? Because she's a quitter. Always has been."
His name: J. Weems. First name, unknown. Possibly related to Randall J. Weems? Also unknown. Small curly hair, dastardly appearance, snitch of the playground, the works.
"T-that's not-,"
"C'mon Heather, just ignore him," said another voice cutting, clearly unimpressed with whatever J. Weems had to say.
His name: Theodore Jasper Detweiler the Fourth. The son of Theodore J. Detweiler the Third and Ashley Spinelli. Also Heather Detweiler's twin brother. Perhaps the spitting image of his father, freckles and all, he likewise preferred a backwards ball cap atop his head, jacket with jeans, and the same aloof attitude. Unlike his father, he preferred the nickname "J.T." not that anyone knew why since it wasn't his initials. Some suggested "J.D" a combination of his middle initial and last name, but J.T. simply responded that he didn't like that name because his mom had a J.D., not that anyone in their class knew what that meant.
J. Weems, not happy regarding the appearance of the new arrival, glowered at him.
"I know it's true and if you ask her, she'll tell you it is true too," was how the resident school worm left things before he scurried away in search of easier prey.
Despite the conversation having been a short one, seemingly of no substance to him, J.T. could tell Weems comments had affected his sister. But then so many comments did get to her, he just didn't understand why.
"You can't let him get to you," was all J.T. could offer to Heather as advice as he stuck his hands in his jeans pockets not sure what else to do or say. Talking to girls on a serious level, even his sister, was seriously outside his expertise. He'd rather be back playing kickball, which is what he'd been doing before he saw J. Weems and his sister across the playground and felt he had to intervene.
"But what if he's right, what if-," began Heather concerned before J.T. held up his hand before she unwittingly worked herself up into becoming hysterical.
"Maybe he's right, maybe he isn't," J.T. was willing to concede. "But you know mom, she doesn't back down from anything. That's why she's an attorney. Now let's go play some ball. We're down three runs and could use you."
Which was true. Heather for all her confidence issues had at least inherited her mom's athleticism. Her kick was sometimes the terror of the ballfield.
Giving one last glance at the departing figure of J. Weems in the distance, Heather sighed to herself, and then made a silent promise for later as she joined her friends and classmates at the kickball field.
Later, the Detweiler household:
The family of five was centered around the dinner table trading stories as they usually did every evening.
The father and head of the household, T.J. Detweiler III after graduating from school had played professional sports for a few years before deciding to pursue his real passion of education. He had taught for a little bit while also coaching school sports before becoming principal of an elementary school across town. It was hard work at times, but he found he really enjoyed being able to guide the futures of the students under his purview. It also helped that he had a good rapport and history with Peter Prickly, his former principal from Third Street Elementary, whom had finally made superintendent of the district.
Seated next to him, his wife and the co-head of the household, Ashley Funicello Detweiler (nee. Spinelli) had graduated from elementary school along with him and then after college spent some time participating in wrestling and then had then gone into law and become an attorney. She had practiced private law for a few years before moving into public law and pursuing her own personal passions and causes. Now she was vying to become District Attorney and her campaign was in full swing. It helped her initials were now "A.D." which made for an easy slogan "A.D. for D.A." that she hoped would resonate with voters later in the fall.
Unlike her husband whom looked pretty much the same as he did in grade school, just taller and older, the former Spinelli had gone from tomboy to a raven haired beauty, looking very much like she had when she had entered that beauty pageant all those years ago. It sometimes astounded her fellow classmates whom had not seen her in awhile that she had physically changed so much.
Though she was never one to flaunt it, and wouldn't be caught dead in a fancy dress unless attending some legal function soirée, she instead opted for a standard legal suit and dress, and had ditched the horizontal twintails and instead kept her hair in a loose functional ponytail down her back. Though in the house it was usually just a casual shirt or sweater and sweatpants or jeans.
Aside from the two children introduced earlier, the youngest was Samuel Detweiler sitting in his high chair. Clad in a blue onesie pajama suit that covered his entire body, he preferred to pair it with a separate red cape in honor of his favorite superhero, Pajama Man. Hence why he liked to be called "Pajama Sam" and would often refer to flights of fancy where his superheroics had saved the day in the Land of Darkness, World Wide Weather, the Land of the Moptops, and other assorted adventures. He had an active imagination, that was for sure, but it made for entertaining stories when he shared them.
During the day when both the parents were working he stayed in daycare, generously provided by Ashley's law firm, but would soon be going off to preschool and then attending Third Street Elementary, the same as his two older siblings. While the Detweilers could easily afford to send their children to an elite private school, neither parent would have it as they had grown up in the public school system and felt it was best for their children as well.
"And then *bam*, straight into the outfield," said J.T. smacking his hands together before pointing to the ceiling. "I made it all the way to third base."
"Way to go, Teddy," said T.J. impressed. He had always called his son Teddy since when he was born. J.T. thought it still made him sound like a baby but just going by Ted too much like an adult, which may have been one of the reasons he tried to go by J.T. at school. But J.T. didn't mind that his dad still called him that here, it was what made home, home.
"How 'bout you, sport," asked T.J. of Heather, whom he had noticed was absently poking a meatball around her spaghetti, not really eating anything. She was lost in her own world, as sometimes happened, and didn't immediately respond.
"Hello, Earth to Heather," began T.J. as he waved his hand in front of his daughter's eyes and she finally snapped to attention.
"Oh, sure," began Heather flustered. "Got some good kicks in and made it to home plate twice."
She still seemed absent from the conversation as T.J. and Ashley exchanged a glance.
"Well, since you're still eating and we're done; how about Teddy, you collect the dishes and start cleaning them and I'll come help you after I put Sam to bed," T.J. declared as he pushed himself off his seat.
"What, why? I didn't do anything wrong!" J.T. protested as if he had done something wrong unknowingly.
"Just do it," T.J. asked, not revealing his real reasoning for doing so, as he picked up Sam who was already nodding off. "I'll be there in a moment."
"I told you dad, with my cape on I'm Pajama Sam!" said Sam nearly out cold as T.J. let him rest his head on his shoulder and left the room. J.T. for his part begrudgingly collected the dishes and was gone too towards the kitchen.
Leaving mother and daughter along together at the dinner table.
…
"Do you want to talk about it?" asked Spinelli finally speaking up after waiting a few moments of silence to see if her daughter would say anything.
"About what?" asked Heather pretending to be clueless about the whole affair. Spinelli leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms, trying not to go too deep into cross examination mode like she did during trials. She didn't want to scare her daughter into becoming defensive and not revealing what was bothering her.
"Heather, I'm an attorney so reading people is part of my job. But more importantly, I'm your mom and I can tell when something's bothering you," Spinelli stated matter of factly, broaching no argument. There was a reason she was a very successful trial lawyer.
Heather poked her meatball a couple more times before internally sighing and looking up at her mom.
"You were a wrestler right?" asked Heather in a question that surprised the older Spinelli. Not that she'd ever made a secret about it, she just didn't talk about it very much having been so distant in the past these days. Photos and some of her belts she'd won adorned the family den and work office.
"Sure, I was professional wrestler," she recalled fondly as a small grin crossed her face. "I was called 'Bad Ash Funicello' in those days. Mostly wrestled in smaller independent circuits but I sometimes appeared with national promotions on T.V.," now using wrestling vernacular that her daughter didn't fully understand.
"Well Weems said, that you unexpectedly quit. That you couldn't take it, that it was unexpected, that you didn't have a reason that…," began Heather starting to ramble and stating some things that J. Weems hadn't actually said. Heather tended to have a little bit of an imagination herself like her younger brother and her thoughts would occasionally run wild. Especially when she was deeply concerned about something.
Spinelli sat back up and a look of sympathy crossed her face over her daughter's distantness earlier. "Is that what you're worried about, that your mom's a quitter? That when the going really gets tough she runs away?"
"A little," Heather admitted reluctantly, now back to her meatball. "You just seem to be so much in charge, so sure of yourself, that you can't do wrong. At least, that's how I see you."
Spinelli laughed a little at that. "I've made plenty of mistakes over the years. And I still make them," she admitted to the surprise of her daughter by admitting weakness. "But that's just part of growing up. I mean when I was your age, I didn't know what I wanted to do with my life. I thought I needed to have my entire future planned out before I left elementary school. One time after a career fair I panicked and had a nightmare that I was living alone on the streets forgotten while all my friends were off being successful and forgotten about me.
"But guess what? None of that came to pass. I worked hard, planned for the future, but also took every day at a time. But unexpected things happen, that's life. So don't worry about those things now, enjoy being a child and have all the fun you can while you're still young," Heather's mom concluded.
"So then why did you quit wrestling?" Heather still needed to ask. Spinelli for her part got up from her chair and sat next to her daughter.
"I left wrestling because of something even I wasn't sure was going to happen," she began cryptically. "Something to me at least, was something better. Something I'd been dreaming of for a long time."
"Which was?" Heather really wanted to know, but a little trepidatious at the same time.
"You silly," Spinelli answered to Heather's surprise. "Well, you and your brother," she then amended. "Look, you didn't need to understand all this now, you're still growing up and learning things and that's okay. But know that you and your brothers plus having my best friend as your father and my husband are the most important things that have happened in my life.
Towards the end as I was looking to wind down my wrestling career, your dad and I were trying to start a family but weren't having much success. There were times when I really felt helpless over something I couldn't control. But then just as I was seriously thinking about giving up, we then found out I was going to have twins and I truly learned what miracles felt like. That you two came out happy and healthy and that I ended up having Sam a few years later still make me want to break down in tears over how blessed I am.
Having you three allowed me to also move forward with my life and start studying again to go back to school and get my law degree so I could go into practice. So now I combat people in the courtroom rather than the ring. So yes, I gave up wrestling which I enjoyed by choice. But as I see it, I gained so much more in ways I couldn't have imagined at the time."
That revelation came as surprise to Heather who sat there in silence as she let it all sink in.
"But what should I do about Weems?" she had to ask next still unsure of herself.
"Forget Weems. If he's related to the Randall Weems I knew then he's just afraid of you," Spinelli pointed out. The idea of someone being afraid of her hadn't occurred to Heather. She saw herself mostly as what used to call a 'Shrinking Violet'. But that she was exuding an aura of confidence she couldn't see that made others jealous made her want to self-reflect more that maybe she wasn't so helpless after all.
"But I have an idea," Spinelli said as a thought crossed her mind and a mischievous smile began to cross her face. "They say the clothing doesn't make the man, but maybe it can scare him even more. Let's see if that's true."
She then took her befuddled daughter to her room and then after several minutes returned to the living room where T.J. and J.T. were watching the sports recap on the news.
"What the-?" began J.T. baffled upon seeing his sister as his dad gave a good belly laugh.
"Ohohoho, Spinelli when did you suddenly become all growed down?" he had to ask. Heather now had an orange wool cap on her head, her loose hair was up in horizontal twintails, a brown jacket now covered a short dress, and she wore stripped stockings covered with boots. Were it not for the freckles on her face, she looked like a spitting image of her mother in her elementary school days.
"Get together you two, we need a photo," Spinelli declared to her son while getting out her smartphone.
"Uh-uh, no way," J.T. protested as he didn't like family photos at all, let alone with his sister. But the parents got their way and the photo was quickly printed and compared to a photo of T.J. and Spinelli in their younger years. The resemblance of all four was uncanny.
"You show up to school looking like this and I bet Weems and his dad will both be trembling in their shoes," Spinelli declared, pleased.
"I guess it's worth a try," said Heather as she looked at the photo of her parents and their gang of six friends. She titled her head quizzically at the image.
"J.T. and Heather you'd both better get ready for bed. I need to go check some things in the shed but then I'll be up to tuck you both in good night," T.J. ordered looking at the wall clock before heading outside. J.T. nodded his head and left to go brush his teeth but Heather continued to look at the photo.
"Mom, I recognize most of your friends, but who is the tall girl in the back with the glasses?" she asked. Spinelli took the photo and looked it fondly. Truthfully, the photo made them look like the cast of an animated television show.
"That's actually a bit of a long story, in fact…,"
***WHORP, WHORP, WHORP, WHORP, THOOM!***