2049 First Five Chapters NEW PDF

by 2049 (pdf)

  And that was after a full year and a half of savings from my tutoring sessions. I would have to work another year at least to to afford it.

  The prospect of not completing my project as soon as I’d hoped

  to made my head sink low. I was so close, there was only one more part that I needed and then my time machine would be finished. No time machine meant I’d be stuck in this hell of a life for another year: another year of getting chased and beaten up by bullies and jocks, and another 30

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  year grieving the loss of my father. Well, things could be worse I suppose. And on that semi-optimistic note, I looked down at my watch, Damn it! It’s already 30 minutes past five. Mom is gonna kill me.

  I gave the unobtainable Tesla coil one last look of sorrow, left the musky darkness of Mike’s Parts behind, and headed back out into the brightly lit mall. I’ll get that Tesla coil and finish my time machine soon.

  Only one more year.

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  5:45 PM January 16th, 2019

  As I approached Katarina and my mom, I could already tell that I was in deep trouble by her furrowed brow and impatient look. She greeted me with a warm,

  "Thomas where the hell were you! I tried to call you three times!" To be honest, I had completely lost track of time when I was in the shop looking for parts. I was so zoned out I totally missed her calls. I rolled my eyes at her raised, agitated tone. She only acts like an adult when she’s in front of other adults or when it’s convenient for her.

  "Sorry, I got caught up in things," I shrugged, sheepishly avoiding eye contact.

  "Probably getting into trouble again," my mom said scornfully under her breath. Even Katarina’s permanent perky smile had withered into a frown. She tapped her foot impatiently and looked over her thick glasses at me. Even though she wasn’t shaking her head, I still got the feeling she was.

  "Boys will be boys Cathy. They will mature eventually,"

  Katarina interjected with the same shaking-her-head-but-not-really-shaking-her-head look.

  "Yeah, well let’s hope so. That’s the third time this month you’ve made me wait."

  "I said I’m sorry, what else do you want me to do?"

  "Don’t you give me that tone young man!" she said, shaking her finger like I was some sort of bad dog. "Come on, let’s walk to the car.

  It’s getting late. You, Mr., have some homework to do." Like hell I’m doing homework when I get home. It’s Saturday night, I have some sort of social life.

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  If you’ve gotten the impression so far that I’m sort of a loser who doesn’t really have any friends, well, you’re sorta right. I have a few people who I talk to at school occasionally during lunch or something, but I wouldn’t consider them to be my ‘friends’. My only real friend was this kid named James.

  The day we moved into our neighborhood about five years

  ago, James was the very first kid that I met. He was so friendly and he seemed almost determined to be my friend. I later found out we were both enrolled in the same middle school, and now we go to the same high school. James is always so supportive and kind, sometimes I feel like he might be the only human left on the planet that understands me even though we are completely different. I’m a hard worker, and he enjoys taking numerous breaks. I have a very narrow social life, and he’s basically friends with the whole school. My favorite food is Mac’n cheese, and his favorite food is oregano chicken with a hint of Himalayan salt. I always get weird looks when I’m hanging out with James. People probably think ‘hey, what's that tall, skinny, nerdy-looking kid hanging out with some cool, buff guy?’ To be honest, I didn’t really know how to answer that question. But I didn’t care.

  Whatever reason he had for hanging out with me, I was grateful for.

  After Katarina theatrically said her goodbyes and hugged both of us for at least three minutes straight, (I swear she has some sort of separation anxiety or something) we finally got into my mom’s truck and started driving home. Darkness hung on the horizon now, and all of the lights from the passing cars merged, creating a sea of glowing red dots. I quickly got bored of looking out the window because of my limited teen attention span, and I certainly wasn’t going to talk to my mom, so I pulled my phone awkwardly out of my pocket and decided to text James.

  I tapped my fingers against the dim screen and watched the black text form in a little bubble at the bottom and then shoot up to the top, patiently hanging for an answer. Within a few minutes, my phone buzzed with a notification, and I eagerly swiped to respond. James proposed getting In-N-Out at seven. My mouth watered at just the thought. I eagerly responded and then turned my phone off and set it in my lap.

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  Now that the thought of In-N-out lingered in my mind, I couldn’t shake the pulling feeling of hunger. I completely skipped ‘lunch’ and I was starving and the idea of burgers with extra bacon (just the way I like it) made my mouth water.

  I looked back down at my phone to delete the three angry voice

  messages that my mom left while she was waiting for me and I noticed I had a missed call from Sydney. My heart skipped a beat. I hadn’t seen her in months, let alone talked to her. Despite not seeing her for such a long time, I did still think about her. A few times, I even considered texting her, but I would always type a couple of words feverishly then delete the message.

  I tentatively refreshed the call history again just to make sure I wasn't seeing things. Sure enough, her name still hung there under missed calls. I stared at the black font of her name until my eyes stung, but the name still didn’t disappear. I could feel my palms start to sweat and my phone felt slippery. I didn’t know whether to feel happy, scared, confused, or sad, so I just stared at her name longer, letting my eyes sting, debating in my mind what I should do.

  Should I call her back? No, it's probably just a butt dial. But what if it isn’t? What if she has something important to tell me? My head hurt from all the different possibilities of why she could have called me, but I eventually decided to wait until I was with James so I could discuss the situation with him. He always knows what to do, and besides, his judgment is much better than mine.

  *

  *

  *

  It was a very long, anticipation-filled car ride back, but as soon as the engine of my mom’s crappy truck shut off, I flung the door open and headed up to my room to get on some warmer clothes. I walked into the bathroom and looked at myself in the mirror again. Yup, I still looked like crap, but whatever, James had seen me in far worse conditions. I think it’s fair to say I get myself in a fair amount of trouble.

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  As I finished pulling a pair of pants over my thin legs, I looked back down at my phone perched precariously on my bedpost to check if the missed call had disappeared or not. Yup, it was still there. I took one last shaky, nervous breath and headed down the stairs to grab my bike.

  Right as I grabbed the door handle to open the front door, my mom called from down the stairs,

  "Tommy, where do you think you are going?"

  "Me and James are going to hang out at In-N-Out just real

  quick. I’ll be back soon." Before I could pull the door open, her words stopped me again.

  "It’s dark already, I don’t want you going out," my mom said in a slightly agitated voice.

  "What? Why not? It’s not even six yet. And I told you, we’re just gonna grab some food and then I’ll be home."

  "I don’t care. You aren’t going out. I say no," she persisted, coming down the stairs and shaking her head.

  "What do you mean no? I said I’d be quick," I said in an agitated voice, reaching out for the door handle to leave.

  "Excuse me?" she started, taking a few steps closer to me, the pitch in her voice rising. "I am your mother, and I say no."

  "You’re not a very good one," I murmured under my breath, appa
rently a little too loud because my mom shot back in a harsh tone,

  "What did you just say to me?"

  "I said… you haven’t exactly been the best mother." My voice cracked while the words tumbled out of my mouth. She let out a

  surprised gasp, stunned that I dared to say what I just said to her face. We just stared at each other for a few moments while an array of emotions from sad to confused flashed across her face. She started to say something in an angry voice but then stopped and changed her mind, switching her voice to a surprisingly calm tone.

  "Things have been hard since your father died. They’ve been hard for both of us. And…"

  "I just want things to go back to normal," I blurted petulantly.

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  "You know they can’t. Robert is dead. And there is nothing that we can do about it."

  "There is a whole lot more you could do," I mumbled under my breath, again a little too loud.

  "Excuse me?" she almost half-screamed. She stood right in my face now and I could smell the alcohol still hanging on her breath like a noose from the night before. I don’t know if it was the scent, the atmosphere of the night, or the fact that I had put up with my mom’s irresponsible behavior for too long that made me snap. This time I didn’t mumble, I shouted at her like she was across the room even though she was right in front of me.

  "Well put down the goddamn drink every once in a while!

  Show up! Be present in my life." Tears started pooling in the corners of my eyes. "Be a mom."

  "Yeah, well what exactly have you done to make things better around here? You don’t listen to what I say, you don’t listen to what your therapist said, and you’re always off in your own world." The words spewed out of her mouth like hot spatting oil.

  "I’m finishing dad’s time machine to fix all this!" I could feel my vocal cords grating together.

  "Time machine…" she started in an eerily hushed tone, "You still think you can actually time travel? You and your stupid projects. If it wasn’t for your obsession with projects, Robert wouldn’t have gone out in that storm." The way she said it, unfeeling, with cold and hollow eyes, like there wasn’t anything left of my mother inside, made my skin crawl and made her words pierce deeper than a bullet wound. Each word was slow and deliberate, and although silent, I could tell she meant every word she uttered. Now it was my face that the array of conflicted emotions flashed across. I could have strangled her right then and there, but the Adam's apple swelling from deep in my chest weighed me down like a cannonball. I stammered, trying to say something malicious back, but I couldn’t squeeze the words out like my throat was an empty bottle of toothpaste. My mom’s expression suddenly changed, as if she just realized the implication of her corrosive words,

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  "Thomas...I...I didn’t mean it like that… you know I didn’t mean it like that, I lo—"

  "No," I croaked, shaking my head ever so slightly. I could hardly speak, but I managed to finish my thought, "No...I’ll show you.

  I’ll show you." I pulled down hard on the door handle, flung the door open letting in the cold night’s wind, and left slamming the door so hard I could swear I felt the whole foundation of the house shake beneath my feet. I squinted my eyes shut tightly and imagined the house disappeared.

  I hopped off the front porch and put the hood of my jacket up to cover my ears and sucked in a cold, shaky breath. I held onto it for a few moments and then let go, attempting to leave behind the fresh memories of the argument and my mom’s cold eyes. I could see the vapor of my breath form little clouds that quickly dissipated in the winter night breeze like a ghost. I rubbed my hands together for warmth. I should’ve brought gloves. It’s a lot colder than I thought it would be. The thought of going back into the house to grab my gloves briefly crossed my mind, but I didn’t want to face her again. I could do without seeing her face for a while.

  I went inside the still open garage to pick up my bike and

  pedaled away from my house, speeding down the narrow, black road. My hand absentmindedly slipped into my back pocket, searching for the familiar smooth feeling of the pills I always kept on me. I brought one up to my lips. Right before I was about to place it into my mouth, I scrunched my face and threw it angrily at the ground.

  The wind chilled my face as I rode down the dimly lit street,

  making my face flush with colors and making it difficult to keep my eyes open. The soft traction sound the tires made on the asphalt relaxed me somewhat and helped me stop thinking about the argument. My mind started drifting to thoughts about running away.

  The train station is only a few blocks away from my house.

  Maybe after grabbing dinner with James I’ll get on one of those trains and head north. The Bay is only a few hours away so I can sleep on the ride out.

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  I reached a cold hand into my side pocket and carefully took

  out my wallet and flipped it open to reveal the train card I still had from our last to San Fransisco about a year ago. If I remembered correctly, there should’ve still been a round trip ride left.

  I grinned at the prospect of being alone and fending for myself for a couple of days without having to see my mom. I checked my phone to see that the next train going north left at 9:30 PM. I checked the time and reasoned I had enough to eat with James and head to the station.

  Now that I had my plan to run away all figured out, my mind drifted to thoughts of Sydney.

  I started thinking about her beautiful, huge, blue eyes and the way she would smile with her small, white teeth and perfect, red lips. I remembered the way she used to talk: slow and deliberate, making me want to hold on to every word she said. But then I remembered what the jocks did, the stapler that one of them threw, how it hurt her. And then I remembered all of the hate and violence. All of the rage from that day came swelling back to me suddenly, making my head throb. My mom’s cold eyes began to resurface in my mind, adding to my bubbling

  cauldron of thick emotions. I gripped the handlebars of my bike tighter until my hands hurt. I shook my head in disgust. I have to stop thinking about the painful memories of the past. I gotta look towards the future.

  It’s the only way to fight the pain.

  And with that thought, I snapped back to reality and realized the turn lane to In-N-Out was just a few feet ahead of me.

  James will know what to do about the phone call. He always knows how to make things better. When has he ever let me down?

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  6:33 PM January 16th, 2019

  As soon as I stepped into the magnificent smelling palace of

  burgers, and shuffled my way through the mass of people, I was

  immediately spotted and greeted by James's wide grin.

  "Hey wassup Thomas!" he exclaimed cheerfully as he brought me in for a quality bro-hug. "Damn dude! What happened to your face?" he said, pointing with a grimace at the still fresh marks from the fight.

  "I ran into trouble with the jocks again," I said, shrugging it off like it happened all the time.

  "You were probably sticking up for some other kid who was

  getting bullied again right?"

  "How’d you know?"

  "Just seems like something you’d do. Well, I’ve seen your face in worse condition before." His joking smile and bright eyes made me feel much better already. I immediately felt glad I texted him to hang out. I really needed a distraction to wind down from all the stress. "I already grabbed us some seats. You should put your jacket on that chair so nobody takes your spot while we’re up there standing in line."

  "Sounds good," I responded, flinging my jacket carelessly onto the backside of the chair and following him into the winding line of people all waiting for burgers.

  For fast food, it wasn’t very fast. We ended up waiting around ten minutes until we were at the front of the line. But I was kind of glad, it gave us some
time to get caught up with some of the things that happened recently. Apparently, James had been seeing this girl from our school for like a week now. He said she’s pretty hot. I wasn’t surprised though, Jame’s charm and ripped body could probably get any girl in our 39

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  school. Like I said earlier, I didn’t really know why he still hung out with me.

  We finally got our food after waiting an additional ten minutes for them to call our order number. My stomach growled like a jet engine, and judging by the way James was already chowing down on the fries and slurping his shake like mad, he was pretty hungry too. We both finished our burger around the same time and gulped down the remainder of our shakes and then resumed talking.

  "So how’s life?" he asked in a cheery matter while rhythmically tapping a complex beat on the edge of the table.

  "Eh, it’s going OK… well besides being punched a few times in the face," I said, putting a somewhat forced smile on my face.

  "Yeah, that’s too bad. Well, at least they didn’t run you off the road on your way home right?" he asked jokingly. However, that was exactly what happened, and judging by James’s reaction to the face I was making, he realized he had asked the wrong question. "Damn dude. You really need to stay clear from those guys. You are gonna get yourself really badly hurt one of these days," he said, putting a concerned hand on my shoulder.

  "Yeah, I know. But sometimes this little switch in my head just goes off and it completely shuts down my logical thinking. I think I need to up my dosage or something," I said jokingly, grabbing my coke to take a sip.

  "Don’t take more of that stupid medication crap man! It does more harm than good. I mean, I had this friend who had this condition that needed medication. Like it was really bad, so he had to go see a doctor and crap. They gave him these huge pills that he had to take like three times a day and he would always complain about how it made him feel. Not to mention how it affected his stomach. I swear he would spend like half the day in the bathroom sometimes crapping and…"