Project Alpha

by R. A. Mejia

“No problem. Now I’ll call a cab to take you home. Ok?”

  “Uh, I can’t afford a cab. I was just going to take the bus.”

  “Don’t worry about the cost. We have a voucher program that gives students rides to and from the hospital. Your student insurance covers the cost.”

  Well, there’s a plus to college life.

  I thank Nurse Joyce and wait for the cab to arrive outside the college hospital. It’s only a ten-minute wait. Once the driverless vehicle arrives, I hop in the back seat, give it my address, and it takes me home.

  Chapter 7

  I’m so tired I fall asleep in the cab and only wake up when it stops at my house. My head throbs in pain as I step out of the cab and every step up the driveway makes my body ache like it’s going through growing pains again. I quickly unlock the front door, and stumble through the house to my room and into bed. Before my head hits the pillow, I’m asleep again.

  The sound of the front door slamming closed wakes me up. As I glance over at the clock on the nightstand next to my bed, I see that it’s already 6:30 pm. I roll out of bed and stretch a little. My body still feels sore but not nearly as bad as it did before. I guess Nurse Joyce was right. I just needed some sleep. I glance down at my body and notice that I fell asleep in my coffee-stained clothes. God, I must smell horrible by now. Unfortunately, I’ll have to put off taking a shower for a little while.

  During the week, our mom works two jobs almost back to back. While she makes it a point to make us breakfast every morning, she’s gone the rest of the day and night. So, I’m responsible for taking care of Marie. Since she’s at school most of the day and is involved in after-school activities like cheerleading, these days that mostly means making sure she does her homework and cooking her dinner.

  When we were younger, though, it meant walking her to and from our elementary school and hearing her talk the whole way about some girl or boy she was fighting with at school. I’d occasionally have to beat up some jerk who was bullying her. We were a lot closer back then. At night, after the sitter fell asleep on the couch, she’d crawl into my bed to talk and ask questions, LOTS of questions. I had to explain how the moon stayed up in the sky, why the sky is blue, what would happen if everyone jumped up at the same time, and where poop comes from. I had to answer some tough questions too. I was the one that had to explain to her why she didn’t have a daddy like the other kids. I had to tell her that she did have a dad, but that he went away. I didn’t have the heart to tell her that he’d just abandoned our family, so I made up some story about him being a secret spy off on a mission. When she asked if he’d come back if she were extra good, I nearly cried but told her that she was already a good girl and that one day he’d come back and take us all away to visit Hawaii. She was a big fan of the third Moana movie at the time. Boy, I got an earful from our mom when the school called to complain about Marie telling the other kids the story. Still, it was the best I could do at the time.

  Now, Marie spends most of her time on her phone, something Mom bought her for her last birthday. She seems to prefer talking to her friends from school or hanging out with them. I can’t blame her. I’m sure they’re a lot more fun than her boring older brother who studies, works, and occasionally plays video games on the old computer he put together. Regardless, I’m still the one that has to take care of her.

  So, I change into some reasonably fresh smelling clothes from a pile on the floor and head to the kitchen to make us some dinner. I find Marie sitting at the kitchen table, a textbook out, working on her homework, and ask, “Hey, munchkin. How was school today?”

  She rolls her eyes at the use of the nickname ‘munchkin,' then sighs but answers, “Fine, I guess.”

  Hmmm, I’m not sure if that means school was fine or if it’s the kind of ‘fine’ that means everything isn’t really fine. As I walk by Marie to the kitchen, I see that she’s working on some Algebra homework. Maybe she’s just having a difficult time with homework?

  As I fill a large pot with water from the sink, I ask her, “How’s the homework coming along?”

  “Easy. You showed me about variables last year, remember?”

  So, not the homework then. Maybe it’s Marie’s friends? I set the pot on the stove to boil and get out the ingredients for the sauce. A 28 ounce can of crushed tomato, a 15 ounce can of diced tomato, garlic, red pepper flakes, basil, and sugar. That’s all it takes to make a quick spaghetti sauce. Simple, but the best things in life usually are.

  I heat a little oil in a pan and put the chopped garlic and red pepper flakes into it for about thirty seconds. No more than that though. I remember once when I got distracted, I let the red pepper flakes cook too long, and they burnt. The smoke from the burning red pepper flakes turned into some tear-inducing chemical weapon, and everyone had to leave the house because they couldn’t breathe. It took hours to clear the air in the room enough for us to go back inside.

  Once the thirty seconds pass, I drop in the crushed and diced tomatoes into the pan. Once the mixture starts to get hot enough for little air volcanoes to show up, I reduce the heat on the sauce and let it simmer. I know I have ten minutes until the water starts to boil and I have to put the pasta in it. So, I sit down at the table next to Marie and ask, “So, you want to talk about what’s bothering you or you going to make me guess?”

  She puts down the pencil in her hand on top of the piece of paper she’s writing on and looks at me. She tilts her head and purses her lips as if she’s deciding something then answers, “Fine. You want to know what’s bothering me?”

  Uh oh. Suddenly, I don’t want to know, but I can’t back out now. I would lose all big brother cred. So, I nod.

  She makes a tsk sound and raises her eyebrows before continuing, “Ok. I started my period today, but Mom forgot to buy me a box of pads. I was able to get one from Becky, but that wasn’t until the third period. So, I had some leakage and had to wear a sweater I took from lost and found around my waist all day because it stained my pants. Then stupid Suzy Appleton tried to pick a fight with me because her boyfriend was talking to me. She called me a homewrecker as if she was married to him or something. It’s not my fault he thinks that I’m more interesting than Suzy. Anyway, she started spreading rumors that I was trying to steal her man. So all the other girls gave me the cold shoulder until Becky told them that Suzy was a lying bitch who couldn’t keep her man happy if all he wanted was a can of soda. So, Suzy tried to hit Becky after school, which meant that I had to beat Suzy down, which meant that I got in trouble for fighting at school today and have to bring Mom into school tomorrow to talk to the principal. That’s how my day at school was!”

  By the end of the one breath tirade, Marie is practically screaming and hyperventilating. I have no idea what to say to her, so I just wrap my arms around her and hug her. I can hear little sobs as she hugs me back.

  “Don’t worry, kid. I don’t have class until the afternoon tomorrow, and I’ll meet with your principal. I can pick up some pads from the store, and we can work out what to do about Suzy together. Though you probably shouldn’t have hit her.”

  I hear Marie sniff and mumble “Ok.”

  The sound of the water boiling over interrupts the moment and I hear Marie say with a little laugh, “Go take care of that. I don’t want to have to evacuate the house again because of a spaghetti preparation mishap.”

  I laugh at the joke and ruffle her hair as I get up. I walk to the kitchen and lower the heat on the water, then add a box of spaghetti noodles. I add a little salt to the water for a touch of flavor. Then I stir the sauce a little before sitting back at the table. It’ll be ten more minutes before the pasta is done and by that time the sauce should have had enough time to come together.

  The house phone rings before I’m able to sit back down and talk to my sister again. Now before you start laughing too much, yes we still have a landline. My mom is just not good with technology, and the phone company practically gives the service away for free since almost nobody
uses it anymore. Anyways, I pick up the landline and hear the sound of my boss, Mr. Smith’s voice, “Hello. Anthony, is that you?”

  “Yeah, Mr. Smith, it’s me. What’s up?”

  “Oh right on, man. I wasn’t sure if something had happened. I tried calling your cell phone number, but no one answered. Anyhow, I was wondering if you could work tonight? Eddie called in sick, and I need someone to man the store tonight. And before you start getting all dramatic, I know you’re not supposed to work tonight, but I need you, buddy.”

  I glance over at Marie, who’s watching me, and I think of how expensive her school is, all the bills we have, and my college tuition, and say into the handset, “Ok, Mr. Smith. We could use the extra money anyway. I’ll be there in a bit. I have to finish making dinner for my sister.”

  My boss thanks me profusely, and I hang up the phone.

  Marie gives me an annoyed look, realizing that I’ll be leaving her home alone tonight. I just shrug and tell her, “Sorry. I have to go to work. We can still have dinner together though.”

  I finish making the pasta, and the two of us eat silently at the table. I put the leftovers in the fridge and wash the dishes before cleaning myself up and changing into my work clothes. I say goodbye to my little sister, but before I leave, I promise tomorrow I'll talk to Marie’s principal. Then I’m off to work at the convenience store down the street.

  Chapter 8

  It’s a fifteen-minute walk to the Quickie Stop Mart, one of the last convenience stores in town. Most of the others either closed down or were bought out by the big chain stores. How Mr. Smith keeps the store open, I’ll never know. Still, it’s good to be able to work close to home.

  As I push the glass door to the convenience store open, I hear the door chime and remember when I started to work here. I was twelve years old and just bored out of my mind during the summer. After watching some kid’s movie where they robbed a bank, I had the brilliant idea of shoplifting from the Quickie Stop Mart. We couldn’t afford to buy a lot of junk food, so I thought I’d just give myself a five-fingered discount on some candy bars.

  As soon as I pushed the glass doors forward and heard a ringing sound, I thought I’d already been caught. When no one said anything, I realized it was just the chimes on the front door. Little mastermind that I was, I figured I’d wear a big bulky sweater, and I’d be able to hide the candy underneath and just walk out the door. I, of course, was caught the moment I tried to sneak out the door. I guess wearing a big red wool sweater in the middle of the summer was a big giveaway that I was up to no good.

  However, instead of turning me over to the cops, Mr. Smith had me work off the cost of the candy I wanted. I came by every day for an hour to clean the store’s toilets, sweep the store, and clean the display cases. At the end of the week, he gave me all the candy I’d tried to steal and a ten-dollar bill. Mr. Smith said if I needed work, the toilets would always be waiting for me. I left a pretty happy camper.

  All that summer I cleaned the store whenever I wanted stuff my mom couldn’t afford to buy. Junk food mostly, occasionally a comic or a toy. When school started back up, I could only go on weekends, and instead of buying stuff, I began to save up for big-ticket items like video game consoles and birthday presents for Marie or my mom. When I was fifteen, Mom lost one of her jobs, and we used up my little savings pretty quickly. Now instead of buying junk food, I bought milk and bread with the money I earned on the weekend. Mr. Smith noticed the change and offered me more hours, which eventually turned into a part-time job. Mom eventually got another second job but with the money from my work things were always a little easier. So I kept the job.

  My jaunt down memory lane was interrupted by Mr. Smith’s voice, “Anthony, there you are.”

  I smile at my boss, a rotund man if ever there was one. He’s wearing a white dress shirt, black slacks, and a thin red tie. I’m a bit jealous of his full black beard since I was never able to grow one myself. Mr. Smith holds out his hand, and I smile and shake it.

  “Thanks for coming in, Anthony. I know you weren’t scheduled to work, but Eddie called in sick. I appreciate you taking his shift last minute, man.” I can’t help but smile at Mr. Smith; he still hasn’t let my hand go and is vigorously shaking it as he talks. My head suddenly hurts, and a blue box appears between Mr. Smith and me.

  Reputation increase with Mr. Smith

  As suddenly as the pain strikes, it disappears, and when I blink, the blue box is gone. I’m finally able to pull my hand away from my boss’s handshake; I rub my eyes. Did I just see what I think I saw?

  “You ok there, kid?”

  I shake my head once to make sure there’s nothing loose up there. “Yeah, no problem, boss. I had a bit of an accident today at school. I must still be feeling the effects from that.” Seeing the concerned look on his face, I continue, “Really, Mr. Smith, it’s nothing to worry about. I already went to the doctors, and they said I was ok.”

  Mr. Smith nods as he searches his pockets for something. He fishes a set of keys out of his pocket and hands them to me. “If you say you’re ok, then who am I to question you? Here are the keys. You’re in charge tonight. It’s just you and Samantha until 6 a.m. I’ll be back then.”

  I clutch the keys in my hands in annoyance. Am I working with Samantha tonight? I probably wouldn’t have agreed to show up if I’d known that. That girl is such a pain in the butt. She’s always late; she never actually wants to work, she steals from the store and disappears for hours at a time on extended breaks. I don’t understand why Mr. Smith keeps her around.

  I nod at my boss and wave goodbye as he leaves the store, the sound of the door chime signaling that he’s left.

  Time to start work. I run through my duties on the register. I tap on the screen and log into the system. Then I check the small amount of cash in the drawer with what the receipts say. I run the quick systems check to make sure the credit machine and phone payment systems are functioning properly. I do a quick visual search to ensure the restricted items behind the counter don’t need restocking. I notice one of the condom boxes needs replacing and grab the empty box. I can’t help smirking a little at the catchphrase on the side of the box: ‘Love is cleaner with a packaged wiener!’

  I feel another sharp pain, this one less intense than the last. Again, a blue box appears in front of me.

  Congratulations. You’ve learned the skill Search, level 1.

  I stare at the blue rectangular screen in wonder. I’ve heard of augmented reality games that do this kind of thing, but I’ve never tried them out. Those Google Glass headsets are expensive, and they never worked out how to stop you from looking stupid wearing them. But this can’t be augmented reality tech. Maybe Mr. Smith bought one of those fancy new holographic projection systems for the store? I reach out to see if I can touch the blue box when the door chime goes off, startling me. I spin around and see Samantha walk through the front door. When I glance back, the blue box has disappeared.

  Samantha is a twenty-two-year-old white girl with short spiky blue hair. Well, this week it’s blue. Last week it was pink. The week before that it was purple. She’s wearing the same white polo shirt I am with the Quickie Stop Mart logo on it. However, instead of her name badge, Samantha has accessorized her outfit with a sticker that says ‘Screw You!’

  Samantha walks up to the front counter, glances at the empty condom box in my hand, smirks, and asks, “So, emptied out that whole box yourself? It’s nice to know what you do when you’re all by yourself in the store, but you really have to get a girlfriend.”

  I can feel the heat on my cheeks as I blush but shoot back, “No. Each of your regulars picked one up and are waiting for you out back.”

  She stares at me for a moment, then a corner of her lips quirk into a smile, and she nods. “Not bad, Tony. It could use some work but not bad.”

  I shake my head at her use of the name Tony. I’ve told her a thousand times that my name is Anthony, not Tony. But she either doesn’t remember
or just likes to rile me up by using it. Thinking of the blue boxes that showed up in the store I ask Samantha, “Hey. Did the boss install any new equipment?”

  “Like what?” She asks as she walks behind the counter and takes the black studded leather purse off her shoulder to store it.

  “I don’t know. Like one of those new holographic projection systems or something.”

  Samantha chuckles, “Uh, no way would the boss man install one of those. They’re way too expensive to put in a shitty little store like this.”

  I nod in agreement. Not about the shitty store part but that it’s some expensive tech. Could these blue boxes have something to do with that weird slime dream I had?

  She raises a penciled eyebrow. “Why are you asking?”

  I consider telling Samantha about the blue boxes but quickly dismiss the idea. She’d either make fun of me and think I was joking or she’d believe me and call the men in the white coats. “No reason. Just thought I saw something.”

  I notice a shiny object in one of Samantha’s eyebrows and lean forward to look at it.