Chapter Text
Tales of Trois Portes: Daemon 1
Wednesday
She always appeared in my dreams. She was perhaps two metres tall, and her hair spread out behind her, swaying as if she were underwater. Her skin was glowing, a bright pink and purple, and around her small motes of light circled, matching those colours. She was naked, but like how a kid’s doll was naked – no hair, no details, just smooth, flawless skin.
We were in a featureless void, a sea of darkness with soft lights drifting by. This was how my dreams have been for the last few months, with just me, the void, and her, talking.
I watched him, sensing his uncertainty. Around us, the motes shifted to and fro as my companion and I drifted within the emptiness. I knew this would be an important decision for him, and I understood his hesitation, but this was far too important to leave to chance. I decided I would need to push him just a little more if I wanted his cooperation.
“Please, Max. I need your help, and it is really important to me. There is nobody else I can turn to.” I added a soft quaver to my voice to play upon his sympathies. I could not force him to make this choice, but there were no rules against emotional manipulation. He did not know what he would be getting into, and that was for the best.
My ploy worked.
He hesitated a moment longer, then gave a slow nod. “Well, okay. But it won’t hurt, will it?” he asked. He was in his mid-teens, thin of frame – some might even say wiry – in that awkward stage where boys were all arms and legs while the rest of the body tried to play catch-up. It was the perfect time for my needs, as he could adapt to what was to come.
“No, Max. It will not.” I drifted closer to him, his blue eyes briefly reflecting the violet of my own as I leaned in to breathe into his ear. “Thank you. I knew I could count on you.” My relief was real, my words were true. Within my breath was a small portion of who I was; it drifted into his ear and took root within him.
His eyes glazed, then grew dull. “Okay, I’ll do my best.”
“I know that you will. Do not worry, however, you will do fine. You are very much like your mother; perhaps even stronger than she was.” I placed a hand on his shoulder with a smile, then whispered, “Now wake, Maxwell. You do not want to be late for your first day of school, now do you?”
Day 1 - Maxwell Amon
I woke up in my bed with a start, the breeze from the open window bringing with it the pleasant smell of last night’s rain. There was a crispness to the air that hinted at the end of summer, and the sun had barely begun creeping over the rooftops of Greenwich Village, the trailer park my mom and I had moved into not a month before. I rubbed my eyes as I tried to remember the surreal dream I had just finished having, but the images were already fading. I’d been having the same dream for awhile, I knew that much, but the details always eluded me when I woke up. There had been a woman – I was certain of that – and she’d needed my help with something, but that was all I could pull from it, and even that much was fading away.
I could hear the buzzer from the kitchen, loud and obnoxious, and I knew that it was going to bother me for however long we lived in this trailer home. A mostly-sweet odour was coming from down the hall; my mother’s muffin recipe. The scent of roasting walnuts made me cringe, even when it was mingled with the pleasant smell of nutmeg and cinnamon. I buried my head under the blankets until I couldn’t delay the inevitable any longer.
“Max!” My mother’s voice was insistent, calling down the hall from the kitchen, and I gave a long-suffering sigh as I pulled myself out of bed. I landed my feet on the floor with a deliberate thump to let mom know I was up and about as I dragged myself to the bathroom to shower and clean up. As I stripped down, I wondered what would be in store for me today: a new school, a new city, and no friends.
“Yeah, today’s going to be fun ,” I muttered as I looked in the mirror. I rubbed my face, then frowned as I looked at myself. Did I somehow put on a bit of muscle? I rubbed my bicep, feeling some tension there. Huh. I mean, I was still gangly, or as my mom sometimes teased, “so thin you have to run around in the shower to get wet”, but it looked like I was finally filling out.
“ – cloudy with a high of only 16 degrees, so dress warmly!” came some man’s helpful voice at the edge of my hearing. I hesitated, then peeked outside the bathroom door, straining my hearing but only picking up the clink of mom setting the table.
“Hey, mom. Is someone here?” I called out.
The sounds stopped. “No dear, now hurry up.” The kitchen was only five metres from the bathroom, and I didn’t hear anything else, so I ducked back in and closed the door. The bathroom itself was tiny, a half-bath with only a sink, toilet, and a stand-up shower stall. I stepped into the shower stall, slid the frosted glass door closed, and braced myself as I adjusted the tap before pulling it on. A blast of cold water hit me in the face, causing me to close my eyes tight as a brief wave of panic washed over me.
The water was cold – too cold, and it was pulling me down, down, into the dark.
I gripped the walls, feeling the cold tiles under my fingers as the water shifted from cold to warm, and the terror began to pass. I finally exhaled, letting ragged gasps escape as the fear subsided... though it didn’t completely go away. I slowly opened my eyes and looked at the front of the stall, my heart slowing down as I forced my breathing back to normal.
Flailing, trying to reach the surface, the darkness pulling me down… a face…
Another man’s voice shocked me out of my reverie. “This is CTPS, 66.8! The Beeeeeeast!” followed by a snarling noise. The voice had been right beside me, I was certain. I panicked, almost slipping as I grabbed the shower rail and looked around to see if there was a radio in the bathroom. A quick search gave away nothing out of place, so I turned off the shower and climbed out to grab a towel.
“Great, now I’m hearing things.” I looked around once more just in case. “We don’t even have a radio.” I wondered where the voice could have come from, then guessed it might have been a neighbour’s. Or maybe a car stereo was being too loud. I towelled off, then glanced at myself once more in the mirror as I combed my fingers through my hair to try to get some sort of order out of the chaos.
My dirty blond hair had grown out over the summer, and now hung down just past my shoulders. I hoped the kids at this new place would find it cool. Mom hated that I’d let it grow out, which was another plus. I’d been totally adamant on keeping my hair growing during our move. I hated the haircuts mom used to insist on giving me with her clippers. This time, I insisted that if I had to attend a new school, I wasn’t going to go in looking like a dork on the first day. Save that for the second.
“I’ll have plenty of opportunities to screw up without your help, mom.”
Something caught my attention, and I leaned in closer to the mirror. My eyes were a little… off. Normally, they would have been sort of watery, but now they were a flat, bright blue. I looked closer, trying to find the flaws in my eye colour – the little flecks of grey and brown I was used to seeing – but they weren’t there. My eyes were eerily uniform today.
“Oh, look. I’ve been replaced by a doppelganger on my first day of school.” I stood up, leaning back. “I’ve seen through your disguise! While you’re at it, you can do my homework, too.”
“Maxwell, get out here and eat!”
I pulled back, started at my reflection for a few more moments, as if expecting it to wave at me, then slowly became aware of a faint buzz in the back of my head – the beginning of a headache. I sighed and quickly began to dress. “Coming!”
“So, why here ?” I asked as I picked walnuts off my muffin and mom fussed in the kitchen. The dining room was small, and technically a part of the kitchen, only cut off by a counter. “I mean, Trois Portes ?” Isn’t this, like, the murder capital of Canada? I miss Vancouver.” I was finding it hard to concentrate on eating, and almost took a bite out of the still-nutty muffin by accident. My usual lack of enthusiasm at the idea of a new school was compounded by the buzzing in my head. The air was almost fuzzy , in a way that made me think of the static of a radio not quite in tune.
Not that I’d ever owned a radio, but it felt like a good comparison.
“It most certainly is not ,” mom protested, coming in to sit down across from me. I don’t look much like her: she’s brunette with hazel eyes, instead of blonde with blue, so I guess I get my looks from my dad, but she doesn’t talk about him. “Eat the nuts, Max, they’re protein.” She reached out and ruffled my hair, making a disapproving sound. “You’re really going to school with that mop-top?”
I combed my fingers back through my hair to fix it, then nodded. “Yeah, then I’m going to go out and get flesh tunnels. By the end of the week, I’ll be one of those human artworks.”
She huffed at me, then smiled. “You’ll do fine, kiddo. Please try to make a few friends this time, okay?”
I picked at the ruins of my muffin, my smile fading. “Will we stay around long enough for me to keep them this time?” What little appetite I had was swiftly vanishing. Mom reached over and gave my hand a squeeze.
“I know it’s hard, hon. But I think we’ll do fine here. This is a big city.”
I just nodded sullenly, then pulled back my chair and stood up. “I should get going.” I tossed back the last of my orange juice and grabbed my duffle bag. “Catch you later.”
She got up and quickly gave me a hug and a kiss on the cheek. “Have a good day, please?” She sounded a little more anxious than normal, and I hesitated, then turned to give her a tight hug.
“Sure thing.”
I slipped out the door, reaching into the mailbox to pull out the flyers from the day before, mostly soggy from the rain. One envelope caught my attention, though, and I flipped it over. The envelope was white, and perfectly dry. The ink on the front hadn’t run, and was an odd metallic silver.
Mr. Maxwell David Amon
1326 Greenwich Village, Queen Elizabeth Drive.
Trois Portes, Ontario, Canada
K6H 0A2
Huh. Another first. I kicked the screen door shut with one foot behind me as I headed down the road and through the trailer park. My feet moved me along the route as I turned the letter over in my hands, while I wondered who I’d known long enough for them to send me a letter. I’d only been here a few weeks, and nobody I’d ever known knew my address. There was no return address, but the stamp was unlike any I’d ever seen before – I was certain it wasn’t from Canada or the U.S.
I squinted, trying to get a better view of the stamp from under the post-office ink, but that was smudged. There was a strange texture to the envelope that I also couldn’t put my finger on, and there was something hard and slim inside as well.
I stopped at the intersection without even looking up, turning the envelope over while I considered what was inside. I wasn’t going to open it while I was walking to school, but it was kind of neat to actually have a letter addressed to me. I started crossing the street, then realized I’d not looked to see if the light had changed. I was just lucky that it had and I wasn’t about to get hit by a bus on the way to school.
“I’ll call you back later, he’s here.” A woman’s voice was right beside me, breaking my focus. I glanced up and looked around, letter forgotten as I tried to see who’d spoken. Besides a few students who were glancing my way, there was nobody close by that would have fit that voice. The headache was gradually getting worse, and I slipped my letter into my duffle bag, noting I was just outside of school grounds.
I had only ever been inside Terrance Stanley Fox High once before, when mom had first signed me up and I had selected courses for the coming year. The school had been built over the summer, and was situated just a few blocks south of the Trois Portes canal, which fed into the St. Lawrence seaway. It was painted a crisp white with royal blue highlights, and had the look and smell of a school with absolutely no history. I made my way to the front doors, watching other students trying to get oriented, and felt some relief at realizing I wasn’t the only one new here.
Just inside the front doors was a rotunda, with bean-green cushions along the inside edge. A ramp circled around the alcove, leading to the second and third floor, and a sign hung from the front of the alcove welcoming people to “The Pit”. A few students had gathered in the rotunda already, claiming spots on the cushions or lounging on the carpet in the middle. A counselor was calling out to the students, telling them that their homerooms had been printed up and taped to the office door. I could feel some of the new students glancing at me, and felt my anxiety increasing. I looked myself over, but failed to notice anything standing out. I could feel myself growing more nervous as I headed for the office, as some of the glances were becoming actual stares.
I mumbled something like an apology under my breath as I quickly scanned for my homeroom and retreated, heading into the nearest hall. The school smelled of paint and plaster, and my nose wrinkled as I tried to navigate the halls. The school was vast, and all the halls looked the same. The students were already beginning to form into clusters as I passed by, and the buzzing in my head was growing louder by the moment as the feeling of isolation began to grow worse.
“Can I help you?” came a woman’s voice. “You seem lost.”
I looked up in surprise, finally realizing someone was talking to me. “I’m looking for room 201A. I thought it would be on the second floor.” I felt distant, detached. “I don’t know where I am.”
The woman who’d spoken seemed like she belonged in a boardroom or some other powerful, high-paying place rather than a public school. The cut of her grey-and-white pantsuit looked expensive to my admittedly untrained eye. She looked Middle-Eastern, with black hair kept quite short. A tiny bit of jewelry caught my eye: some Hebrew symbol on a thin gold chain around her throat.
She studied me for a few moments, then smiled reassuringly. “You’re on the right floor, but you’re in the wrong wing. I can take you there – you’re apparently in my homeroom.” I must have looked surprised, as I saw a little flicker of amusement. She headed towards the east wing, motioning me to follow her. “So, what do you think of the school?”
It took another moment to realize she was talking to me again. “It looks nice, though it seems empty.” She looked around at the students still coming in. I quickly added, “Well, I mean that it doesn’t seem like a school yet. There’s nothing personal about the place.”
“Give it time.” She glanced back at me once more. “I’m certain the students will break it in, soon enough.” Progress was a little slower as she climbed the stairs to the next floor. This was the technical wing of the school, handling drafting, computers, and accounting, while automotive and shop was on the first floor. I almost stumbled into her as she stopped to open her classroom door. She steadied me and guided me ahead of her. “Take a seat, you’ve got about half an hour before class starts.” She paused, “What’s your name?”
“Max Amon,” I replied.
“I’m Ms. Tanas. Have a seat, Max.”
I found a desk for myself near the middle of the class, then slumped back into my seat and rubbed my temples as I tucked my duffle bag under the desk. The buzzing in my head was a cacophony – now there was a word I never thought I’d use – and the pain was making my vision blur. Little dots and lines of light were filling my vision, making it hard to focus, and I soon found myself resting my forehead on my desk, letting the cool plastic ease some of the pain. I hoped closing my eyes would help, but I was more worried about having a migraine on the first day of school.
Those lines and spots didn’t go away once my eyes had closed. Instead, they stood out in stark relief as blue-white shapes that flowed and drifted in the darkness. At first, they were just jumbles, forms without any reason, but as I watched, they began to develop depth and contour, creating patterns I could almost identify.
A girl’s voice distracted me. “ Hey. Partied too hard last night?” I half-expected it to be nothing as I opened my eyes, but there she was: a girl sitting in the seat beside me, causing me to blink and sit up hard in surprise. My knees banged the underside of the desk, and I hissed with pain, then rubbed my knees, blushing a moment before looking over at her again. I glanced around, noticing a large number of students watching me, and I rubbed the back of my neck, even more embarrassed now as I gave a weak smile.
The girl had olive skin and wavy black hair tied back into a braid, with eyes the colour of dark cocoa. She wore faded jeans and a black t-shirt with "your mother warned you about me" printed in cracking aqua paint. An actual girl – a pretty one – had talked to me, and I’d acted like a total klutz. I felt like sliding under my desk.
“Uh, no, I... I don’t know,” I mumbled. “I’ve got a splitting headache and I don’t know why.” I wrenched my eyes away from her and glanced at the teacher – Ms. Tanas, she’d said – who was looking downright worried. I tried to focus, but my mind was racing, like my brain was full of too many thoughts. It felt like someone had just flicked a switch in my head, and now my brain had shifted into a higher gear. The headache was there, the fugue as well, but I found myself becoming more aware . It would almost be pleasant... if the pain ever went away. “I’m sure I can power through it,” I added, hoping that saying so would make it true.
The girl quirked up her mouth. “Well. Sit down if you think you might fall over. Less distance to fall. And if you think you’ve got to lie down, just say, ‘Vanessa’s going to take me to the nurse’s office’.” She paused. “Vanessa being me.”
I blinked, then blushed, realizing I’d not asked. “Max. Sorry if I seem a little… a lot out of it today, it seems things are just going pear-shaped right now.” I could feel the other kids in the class staring at me.
Vanessa just kept her attention on me. “You’re new around here, aren’t you?”
“Yeah. I moved here just recently, so I’m just learning the area now.”
She nodded. “I can tell by your accent. Where are you from?”
I have an accent? I wondered what it sounded like. I tried to get the spots out of my eyes, shaking my head slightly. “Vancouver. Then moved to Winnipeg, back over to Edmonton, up to Red Deer, over to Banff, out to Victoria, over to North Bay, then over to Fredrickton, up to St. John’s, down to Regina, then to Saskatoon, then to Calgary, and now here.” I made a vague motion of the room as if encompassing everything I couldn’t see. “Trois Portes.”
Her eyes had widened as I listed off all the places. “Are you, like, running from the law?” she asked, leaning forward. “Are the RCMP going to bust into the classroom and drag you away?”
I had a brief mental image of cartoon mounties kicking open the door, pointing at me, and shouting get him! “No, nothing like that. Mom’s just had some trouble holding down a job, is all.” Now, admittedly, that’s what she kept telling me , but now I was wondering if that was actually true.
She grinned. “I’m just teasing, Max.” She gave my shoulder a playful tap, and for a moment I felt… strange. There was a tiny thrill at that touch, and I wasn’t sure how I felt about it. “Aww, and you’re blushing! That’s adorable.” I sank in my seat as she ripped a piece of paper out of her binder and scribbled something on it. “Hey, here’s my cell number, what’s yours?”
Now I just wanted to die. I was praying for lightning to burst in through the window and strike me dead . “I… don’t have a cellphone. Honest, my mom’s stuck in the Dark Ages.” Vanessa raised her eyebrows, and I continued, hoping I wasn’t babbling like an idiot. “Really, you should see my house. I swear we’d have a wood stove if she thought she could get away with it. We don’t even have a television. Who doesn’t have a TV?”
Vanessa scoffed, but it didn’t sound like it was at me. “What, seriously?” She smiled as I nodded. I found myself relaxing. She wasn’t treating me like a terminally uncool freak like at the other schools I’d been to.
“Nah, she’s got this weird aversion to tech, and I don’t know why.” I shrugged, then glanced around the classroom once more. Apparently, talking with someone helped make the pain fade. The blue lines and sparks behind my eyelids were still there, but there seemed to be a pattern to them now. I wasn’t understanding what I was seeing, but the fugue was fading away.
She mimicked my shrug, before turning back to her books. I caught her glancing at me out of the corner of her eye, and noticed a subtle, coy smile as she tucked a lock of hair behind one ear to show off her neck. I couldn’t help but blush at that, then turned to look ahead, noticing on the board that the teacher had written “Ms. Rachel Tanas”, and below that, “Law 10”.
Day 1 - Ryu Alvarez
Most of my experience with high school had come from TV and movies, and according to those, gym class always sucked.
It’d be okay if it was like the gym at home, where I could push my limits and get pointers from people who wouldn’t freak out about how strong and fast I was. But the boss-man had said I should try not to stick out too much, and, well, being chosen for a mission was pretty cool. I didn’t want to screw this up. I already stuck out a little bit, being not only non-white but an ethnic mix nobody could pin down.
My sister said that in the place where we were raised, one of the things they taught us was how to hide our abilities in public. Too bad I couldn’t remember it.
I sat down on one of the new fiberglass benches, right beside where someone had already scrawled their initials in permanent marker, and started to change while keeping half an eye on the reason I was here: Max Amon. They’d made sure I’d be in some of his classes. I’d spotted him earlier, walking around in a daze like a stoner, but his expression – with his eyes going weirdly in and out of focus – wasn’t like any drug trip I’d seen. Also, I’d managed to brush past him and inhale while the guys were all shoving their way into the changeroom, and I hadn’t smelled any unusual substances on him.
Guy was pretty cute, actually. Dirty blond hair with a bit of curl to it, puppy-dog eyes… he looked like he could get cast as the sweet, nerdy best friend in a teen comedy. With most of his clothes off, I could see his build wasn’t bad, either. Couldn’t see him pumping iron, but maybe he swam?
The poor guy was self-conscious as he changed, glancing around from time to time, even as he tried to ignore everyone around him. He didn’t seem to have learned either protective camouflage or shield of confidence; his body language practically screamed “victim”. That, of course, attracts assholes.
And oh look, here was an asshole now: tall kid, solid build like a football player, copper hair in a brush cut like he was an army brat or something. He had one of those complexions that was mostly freckle, and large meaty-looking hands. There were three other guys flanking him, but he was clearly the one in charge. Now that I thought of it, I’d overheard a bit of their conversation, and they’d called him Travis.
Max’s back was turned as he finally put on some gym shorts. Just as he was about to sit down, Travis gave him a hard shove in the back. Max’s hand shot out quickly, catching the locker in front of him with surprising speed. A few students bailed while pretending to ignore the impending fight, while most of them hung back to gawk. I got to my feet, but hesitated: they hadn’t given me much info about my target. Maybe he could hold his own after all?
“What makes you so special?” Travis had leaned in, a scowl making his face even uglier, his friends all coming up to block off any escape path.
“Huh?” Max just blinked like he’d spaced out again. He stood up carefully, holding his head with a slight groan, like something completely unrelated was giving him a headache.
Travis shoved Max against the lockers again, this time harder. “Don’t piss me off, geek.” Dude still looked clueless, and one of Travis’s buddies took a swing from Max’s blind spot. Amazingly, Max ducked without even looking at the incoming fist. The asshole’s hand slammed hard into the locker, cutting it open and causing him to swear in pain. Max looked genuinely surprised at that, like he hadn’t even known what he was doing, but he caught on quick. He ducked out through the opening caused by the guy’s distraction.
Okay. Max obviously had great instincts for avoiding a fight, but these guys were still between him and the door to the gym. He couldn’t run around in here all day, and I had a feeling he had no idea how to take a hit. Boss had said “try not to attract undue attention”, but he’d also said “get close to him if you can”.
Also, I fucking hate bullies.
I moved between Max and the other four. I was still in my underwear, but whatever. I bent my knees a little, but didn’t take any obvious fighting stance; I just tilted my head and looked at Travis like it wouldn’t even be worth my time to wipe the walls with him. “The fuck’s your problem?”
Asshole just blinked. “Huh?”
“First day and you’re already startin’ shit?” I pressed. “You tryin’ to do some ‘establishing primate pecking order’ thing?” Was that too much? What did normal kids get taught at this level?
I couldn’t tell if Travis had any idea what I was talking about, but he didn’t like my tone. The other two guys were waiting for some sort of signal, while the last was sucking blood off his knuckles and looking to be in real pain.
“Fuck off, freak. S’none of your business,” Travis snapped. Max muttered something that sounded like “Language”. Did he have no survival skills whatsoever?
I snorted. “Oh, ‘scuse me, monkeyboy. I just don’t feel like participating in one of those prison movie scenes while I’m still just a young offender.”
Two red spots appeared on Travis’s cheeks. “You can shut the fuck up.”
Max interjected, “Language.” Like, seriously?
Travis stabbed a finger at Max. “Shut your mouth, you little shit, or I’ll kick your ass. I mean it.”
“Wow, maybe you should bring in three more of your buddies to back you up.” Like I said, I fucking hate bullies. “Just to make you feel, y’know, more secure.”
Travis growled, “You can go fuck yourself.”
“You can go lick a dog’s ass ‘till it bleeds.” I’d read that line in a book, and thought it was both gross and hilarious.
“Eww!” Apparently, Max had a vivid imagination. I couldn’t help but laugh at his reaction.
That laughter pissed Travis off, and he lunged forward, ham-fist up to drive into my face. As far as I was concerned, he could have been moving in slow motion. I brushed aside his arm with one hand, grabbed his shoulder with the other, and used some of his own momentum to yank him downwards. My first thought had been to smash him in the face, but I managed to change strategies; I let go of his shoulder as I raised my knee and brought it up hard into his sternum. That flung him backwards. He tried to pull himself up, then just gave a pained breath and collapsed like a sack of potatoes.
His three buddies stumbled backwards in shock. I did one of those “bring it” gestures from kung-fu movies. “Anyone else want some?”
Travis began picking himself up slowly and carefully as the others retreated, all the while shooting Max a venomous glare. He stumbled to the gym, punching open the door as he left, his companions following and glancing at me nervously.
I plunked myself down on the bench and began tugging on my gym pants. “Hey. Y’okay?”
Max took a breath as he finished changing for class. “Yeah. Um, thanks.”
I grinned in spite of myself. That had felt good, if one-sided. “No problem, eh? Buddy there needed to be taken down a notch. I’m Ryu.”
“I’m Max. Hi.”
As I pushed open the gym door, I told him, “Look, if Travis gives you any more trouble, you let me know, eh? I’ll kick his ass.”
He frowned a bit. “Language.”
I cracked up.
Day 1 - Maxwell
Today was definitely a day of firsts. Phys-Ed usually left me miserable and winded, and other kids tended to be either trying just as hard as I was to be ignored or busy competing with each other. This time, not only did I feel like I could keep up, but I had a companion. Ryu had a mouth on him, but I found I really liked the guy, and the class had been more fun than I’d expected, the thing with Travis aside. I cringed when I found out I had Math next, but felt a bit better once I found out Ryu was in it too.
“Side-by-each?” Ryu asked with an exaggerated Québecois accent.
“Huh?” It took me a moment to figure out he was talking about seats. “Oh, sure.”
I picked a desk near the middle again, and Ryu grabbed one beside mine. I felt a low level of dread as I sank down in my seat and waited for class to begin. Ryu noticed and leaned over. “S’up?”
“I hate math.” Anything outside of normal multiplication and division was way beyond me. I’d never stayed in a class long enough to really understand any of it. If it was algebra or trig, it might as well have been an alien language. Since there was no avoiding it, I sighed and opened the textbook, hoping an early start would help. Instead of a jumble of words and numbers, the text staring up at me looked pretty easy. I frowned, opened my notepad, and began writing out the answers to each question. I could almost see the numbers and symbols in my head, and everything else seemed to fade out. It was only when the teacher called my name that I looked up.
She was searching the room, so I raised a hand. “Here.” The teacher looked at me from over her glasses, then nodded and continued attendance. I let out a breath, then looked down to see I’d already filled out two pages.
Ryu was watching me, eyebrows raised. “Holy shit, dude. Math geek much? Not saying that’s bad,” he quickly amended.
I winced. Over the last ten years or so, I’d lived a fairly sheltered life. No TV, no radio, and while mom had taken me to the movies once in awhile, she insisted that there be no swearing in her house. It had been drilled into me from childhood, so the language Ryu used made me nervous. “Language.” Ryu rolled his eyes, and I shook my head. “No.” I clarified, “I hate math. I mean, I thought I did?”
For the rest of the class, the teacher laid out the basics for algebra and geometry, and while she did, I flipped through the textbook, looking at the problems while my pen ran across my notebook and I wrote out the answers. The problems seemed easy. Just too easy.
“Mr. Amon! Are you paying attention?”
I snapped my head up, “Yes, Mrs. Cadieu!”
She didn’t look convinced, and indicated the rhomboid she’d drawn on the white board. “Can you answer this for me then?” she asked. I winced as I looked it over, and wanted to kick myself for zoning out again. Ryu quietly sing-songed, “Bussss-ted.”
I sighed, then looked at the shape. After a second, I realized I knew the answer. “A and B are 45 cm in length, C and D are 70 cm in length. The inner angle of BD is 40 degrees, making BC…” it was all becoming clear as I rattled off the numbers, laying out the angles or each corner, the area, the perimeter. It was… easy.
The teacher seemed at once impressed and annoyed. “Very good, Mr. Amon.”
“But you totally hate math,” Ryu deadpanned.
I couldn’t help but smile. “Not anymore.” I turned to the next page in the book and began writing once more, the numbers and shapes coming to me, the problems and descriptions making more and more sense. The class blew by faster than I would have ever imagined, and I was glad that my head was no longer pounding. The strange, blue-white lights were still there, but the constant buzz was now just a faint drone. When the bell rang, I started a bit.
Ryu had already folded up his books, clearly impatient to be elsewhere. “Lunch, finally. I hope they serve actual food here.”
The cafeteria was divided into two sections. The larger area was more of a hall filled with foldable tables and plastic chairs that connected with the cafeteria itself. This area allowed students to gather in large groups, and the tables and chairs could be cleared out to open up the space. To one side was a smaller, carpeted section with some circular tables scattered about, and a staircase which led up to the top of the theatre area and assembly hall. As soon as I’d bought my hamburger and pop, I instinctively headed for that smaller area.
“Oh, hey! Mind if I sit?” I hadn’t even noticed Vanessa come up, and now all I could do was blink stupidly at her. She gave me an amused smile, then took a chair and joined me before I could even find a response. I stared as she opened up her backpack and pulled out a cloth lunchbag with a dragonfly pattern.
“Sure,” I finally let out, and she laughed.
“So… it’s not bad,” said Ryu. He used one foot to pull out a chair and plunked down a tray laden with meatloaf, mashed potatoes, and gravy.
Vanessa lifted her eyebrows. “I hope it’s not bad – you’ve got enough there for two people. Maybe three.”
Ryu sat down, patting his washboard stomach. “Gotta take care of the baby, y’know.” As Vanessa snorted, he glanced at me at jerked his head at her in a questioning way.
“Right. Ryu, this is Vanessa – we talked a bit in homeroom. And Vanessa, Ryu, he… kind of saved my butt earlier. In Phys-Ed.”
She gave him a bit of a once-over. Ryu was a little bit shorter than me, but had a really striking appearance: brown skin, amber-coloured eyes with a slight Asian cast, spiky mahogany-red hair, and obvious muscle. He seemed generally cool – some of that was the ripped jeans and the t-shirt printed with a Mexican lady in skull makeup, but I think a lot of it was just his confident swagger.
Ryu just shrugged. “Asshole wanted to start some shit. I stopped him. No big.” He gestured at me with his fork. “This guy, though? He can move . One of Travis’s buddies tried to hit him, got the locker instead. Fucked up his hand.”
I was so relieved at not having to tell the whole nerve-wracking story that I didn’t even call him on his cussing.
Vanessa tossed an empty yogurt cup into the closest recycle bin. “Oh, Travis. Yeah, he’s a jerk.” She glanced back and forth between us. “You could still get in trouble for fighting, though. Teachers don’t always listen, or care, about who started what.”
Ryu leaned back in his chair, chewing, and gave Vanessa an appraising look. “You look like you could kick some ass, yourself.”
That was true, now that I thought about it. Vanessa’s shirt was loose, but it wasn’t very long, and it was riding up a bit. Her midriff looked like that of someone who worked out. The skin there was probably soft, though. She caught my look, and I quickly turned my attention back to my meal. She addressed Ryu, but took the time to tuck her hair behind her ear on my side, showing off her neck again. “That’s not the point at all,” she replied, then began licking her spoon clean, and I couldn’t help but watch her tongue work.
Is she doing that on purpose?
“Um. Hey.” I changed the subject. “Would you two like to come over to my place after school? We could… hang out? Though…” I faltered. “I honestly have no idea what we could do there.” I looked down as I realized just how little I had to offer.
“I could share my Steam library with you...” Vanessa started brightly, then checked herself. “...Oh, right. No computer.”
Ryu scraped up the last bit of potatoes and gravy. The guy had just about inhaled his food. “What?”
Vanessa flashed me a sympathetic grimace. To Ryu, she explained, “His mom’s kind of a Luddite.”
I sighed. “Yeah. No computer. My mom believes that civilization should have stopped with fire, and that anything beyond is a sign of the decline of civilization.”
“Ugh!” Ryu grunted, cave-man style. “Me no trust fire. Eat food raw! And like it!”
I couldn’t help but chuckle, and Vanessa got into the game. “Why, back in my day,” she drawled, “We didn’t have water. We had to take our own hydrogen and oxygen atoms and bang ‘em together.” Ryu burst out laughing, and I covered my mouth, hoping my amusement didn’t make me look goofy.
“Wow, dude,” Ryu said, recovering. “I’ve heard of people being all, ‘I don’t watch TV ‘cause it rots the brain’, but computers are, like, essential now.”
I shook my head, “No TV. No radio. No cellphones.”
Ryu snatched up the pickle I’d taken out of my burger. “There’s a mall. We could hang out there and pretend we have money.”
Vanessa interjected, “We could catch a movie. There’s the new superplex they put up behind the Tremblay shopping centre.” I hesitated, and her eyes widened. “Let me guess, you’ve never been to the movies?”
I was about to protest, but Ryu interrupted. “No problem. Shit, man, I’ve snuck into movies all the time. I’ll show you how!”
“Language.” It came out automatically, and Vanessa grinned at me and stuck out her tongue. She’s got a cute tongue . I paused. Okay, that was a strange thought.
“What ev er!” Ryu rolled his eyes. “Anyway, movies. I’m cool with that.”
Vanessa pulled out her phone and started looking through the cineplex schedules. I sighed a little and started digging through my duffle bag, mostly for something to do with my hands. I felt my hand brush something, and pulled out my letter. I paused, looking at it, turning it over while Ryu and Vanessa debated which film to see. I tested it, feeling the weight, then lifted it up to the light to peek.
“What’s that?” Ryu asked.
“A letter,” I replied. “This is my first letter. I don’t even know who it’s from.” I stripped it from the side, tearing it carefully so as not to damage anything inside. It took a few shakes, but a silver plastic card slipped out of the envelope and into my hand. I examined it in surprise, noticing the chip on one end, and that it was marked “Maxwell D. Amon” in gold lettering. It had a string of numbers embossed along the middle, and a holographic pattern of a building I couldn’t identify.
Ryu eyed it. “A credit card?”
Vanessa made a rueful face. “It’s junk mail. My dad always says that if you randomly get a credit card in the mail, it’s some outfit wanting to put you in debt.”
I set it down on the table, then carefully shook out the letter. When I unfolded it, I noticed it had the same silver ink as on the envelope. The handwriting was pretty, with long, flowing strokes.
Dear Maxwell David Amon:
I hope this letter finds you well. Spring is just beginning here in Sydney, and if I’m not mistaken, you’ve just turned fifteen. I know you’ve never met me, but then I’ve been a little busy with work, and haven’t had the chance to come to Canada and visit you. I used to keep in touch with your mother, but that seems to have become more difficult in the last ten years or so. It was only by luck I was able to find out how you are doing.
Recently, I’ve come into quite a bit of money, and I’ve felt somewhat negligent in paying attention to my favourite nephew. Since you’re probably just starting high school, I had an account opened for you in one of the local banks I have some stock in. You should have more than enough money to cover any of your needs, and if you are anything like me, I’m certain you’ll find a use for it. I’ll be giving you an allowance of one thousand Canadian dollars a week. Have fun!
Your favourite aunt, T.
I skimmed the letter twice, my brain seizing up as it tried to comprehend what it said. I scanned it a third time, as Ryu leaned over to read it over my shoulder. He made a low “whoo” noise. “Dude, auntie must seriously love you. Or something.”
“ …or something.” I echoed weakly. I looked down at the credit card sitting in my lap as I slowly folded the letter. I tucked it ever-so-carefully back into the envelope, then slid that back into my duffle bag. Once that was done, I picked up the credit card and studied it. The holographic logo flashed on the surface, and I looked up at my friends, somewhat stunned. “Um. That movie? I guess it’s on me?”
Vanessa frowned. “What did it say?”
I leaned forward and took a deep breath, remembering to keep my voice low. “My long-lost aunt in Australia misses me and just gave me more money than I ever knew existed.” I tucked the card into my pocket, deep .
Vanessa’s mouth dropped open. “You know, when I asked you earlier whether your family was on the run from the law, I was joking. Do you know this aunt? What she does?”
I shook my head. “I didn’t even know I had an aunt.”
“Just…” She gestured at the letter. “What if that’s, you know, ill-gotten gains?”
“What’s he supposed to do if it is?” Ryu asked, just before the bell rang.
A thousand? Every week ?
I tried to process that. The rest of the school day was just a blur – the headache was completely gone, but the spots and lines behind my eyes were still there. The letter made me feel numb. A ‘long-lost aunt’? Was my mom trying to hide from her? If she was in Sydney, is that why we’d moved back east? Why did she just decide to give me so much money? Was it a joke? I had no idea what to do with that much money, I didn’t even get an allowance , and mom kept all her money in a pillowcase in her closet. I felt like a tonne of responsibility had just been dropped in my lap, and I suddenly had a lot of questions I was certain I wasn’t going to like the answer to.
Day 1 - Vanessa McCormick
We found Max staring into his locker after school. I really had no idea what he could be thinking, but I approached and waved a hand in his line of sight, drawing him out of his reverie. Through the day, I’d seen him blank out for seconds at a time, but this was not his usual fugue state; he looked like there was a lot on his mind. He blinked as he focused on me with those odd blue eyes.
“Oh, hi, sorry.”
I tucked my hair behind my ear and gave him a friendly smile. “Are we still up for that movie?” I asked. “I’m expecting popcorn and a drink, if you’re buying.” I kept my tone light, trying to keep him at ease and let him know I was joking.
I heard a little scoff from behind me. “I dunno, man, can he afford it?” At Max’s pained expression, Ryu sobered. “Uh, sorry.”
Max smiled weakly. “Yeah, sure. On me.”
“In all seriousness,” I hurried to add, “you don’t have to. If you’re still trying to figure all this out…”
He shook his head. “It’s okay. Honestly? I think I could use the distraction.”
I waited for Max to finish closing up his locker, which was tidy and undecorated. I’d already put up a magnetic whiteboard, lemongrass sachet, and some of my friend’s fanart. I decided Max needed to get out and see the world more.
Max glanced around. “I need to head home, let mom know what I’m doing.”
“Can’t you just call her?” I asked.
Ryu and Max answered almost in unison, “No phone.” Ryu added, “Mine broke.”
“Luddites,” I replied. “Let’s go then.”
I admit, I was a little startled to find out Max lived in a trailer park. I mean, the park itself was nice, with rows of trailer homes, small gardens in the front and sides, but it all seemed so cramped. Ryu and I waited outside, me checking my phone messages, while he went in to talk with his mom.
After a few minutes, he came out, looking more distressed.
“Did she say no?”
“No, no, that’s fine. She said I could go. Even invited you both over for dinner later.” He seemed uncertain.
“Sooo… that’s cool, right?” Ryu peered at Max. “She’s not forbidding you from human contact?”
“So what’s wrong?” Max’s lack of enthusiasm had made me feel a little disappointed, but if something was wrong, I didn’t want to make it all about me. I had my phone ready to call my parents, but wanted to know what was going on first.
He rubbed the back of his neck. “Mom’s being weird. She said my aunt is having some things delivered for me, and mom… she wasn’t happy about it. She didn’t seem exactly surprised, more like… resigned.” He gave my phone a glance… then crumpled.
“Shit!” Ryu stepped up with astonishing quickness and caught him just as his eyes rolled back in his head. Max was limp, like a puppet whose strings had been cut. As Ryu eased him down onto the porch, I patted his cheek, hoping to wake him up. “Max? Max? Are you okay?”
He blinked, disoriented, and I felt a surge of relief.
“Hey. What happened?” Ryu asked, helping Max to sit up.
“I don’t know. I… saw things. Heard voices. A sea of shapes…” His voice was hollow, distant, his eyes were out of focus.
Ryu cut him off. “Dude. You passed out. ” He made sure Max was steady. “D’you want to take a rain check?”
Max shook his head. “No...”
I interrupted. “I think you should. You’ve been out of it all day. Go back inside and get some rest.” I smiled, but kept firm. “Your mom’s upset, you’re not feeling well, and you just fainted.” I made my tone more gentle. “We can do this another time.” I noticed a look of relief from Ryu, maybe more than just friendly concern, and wondered about that. I took Max’s hand and gave it a squeeze, smiling a little more as he squeezed back. I had to admit, it felt nice. “But you owe me. Us. You owe us.”
“Tomorrow, I promise,” Max reluctantly agreed.
Day 1 - Maxwell
The beige-and-chestnut trailer I called home was at the end of the street, and I sat on the front steps, watching Vanessa and Ryu as they left the trailer park. I slumped, then leaned back against the door, looking at the single and double-homes spread out along the street. Mom had decided to get a simpler model, with a small patch of grass at the front that could arguably be called a lawn. There was a simple wooden staircase that went up to the front door, and nothing at the back door, meaning you had to jump down to get out.
I finally pulled myself up and went inside. To my right and past the door was the living room: small but functional, and mostly empty. There was a single grey, ragged couch that could sit two, and a pair of TV trays open in front of it. I found it funny that we had TV trays, but no TV.
In front of me was the dining room, which consisted of an old poker table that was slightly bent, and a pair of foldable metal chairs. The kitchen was separated from the dining room by a counter and cupboards, with an opening to pass things through from one side to the other. There was a fridge and stove, but no dishwasher, though there was space for one.
I slid my shoes off with my heels and kicked them to one side, then parked my duffle bag on the floor by the table. I passed the kitchen into the hallway to my left. The tiny bathroom was on my right, and there was space for a washer and dryer, though mom hadn’t bought any yet. We’d been washing our clothes in the shower.
I walked past them, where the hall opened up. To the right was my mother’s room and the spare bedroom. The spare bedroom was empty. To my left was the back door, closed and locked, while at the end of the hall was the master bedroom, closed at the moment. That was my room; mom insisted, though I really hadn’t seen much of a point to it. I had my bed, desk, and lamp, and a wind-up alarm clock, and really that was all I owned except for my clothes and a few books.
I always felt like I was trapped in some parallel dimension any time I came home. I had never gotten used to calling any one place home, and I was certain my place was the only one missing so many things people took for granted. No microwave, dishwasher, laundry machine, radio, television… not even a telephone.
I knocked on my mom’s bedroom door. “Mom? I’m not going out.” It took her a few moments to open the door. She looked pale and more than a little worried.
“Max? I thought you went to the movies with your friends.” The tone of her voice worried me: she sounded sad and alone and tired all at once. I gave her a hug, and she gripped me tight, her arms shaking.
“Not tonight. Tomorrow, maybe. It sounds like you need the company.” I looked her over, studying her carefully. “Talk to me, okay?”
“You’ve always been a good kid, Max. I’ll be okay.” She sighed a little, then added, “We’ll talk about it, but not tonight, please?” There was a hint of desperation in her voice.
Even though I still wanted to know what was up, I relented. “Alright, want me to make supper?”
She shook her head again. “No, no. You just sit down and get to work on your homework, and I’ll get the food on.” She walked past me and down the hall, and I began following her, wondering when she’s suddenly gotten so old . It felt like the energy had been drained from her all at once.
I trailed along. “Homework’s already finished.”
She stopped and looked back at me. “Since when did you do your homework without needing me to get on your case?” she asked, sounding a little more like her usual self. I shrugged, and she continued, “I’m going to want to see it.” She turned and headed for the kitchen.
Okay, I really needed to bring up that whole thing with the letter. I bit my lip and rubbed the back of my neck as I bounced it around in my head, trying to find the best way to approach this while she pulled out a saucepan and filled it with water.
“So… Aunt ‘T’ sent me a letter. I got it in the mail this morning.”
Mom put down the saucepan. “Oh.”
“She gave me a credit card.”
“Oh.”
“She said she’s in Australia. I didn’t even know I had an aunt.”
“Oh.” She turned quickly away and opened a cupboard.
“Mom…”
“Max…” She set down some plastic plates she’d pulled from the cupboard, then closed the cupboard doors carefully. “Max… I can’t…” The last word came out kind of squeaky, like she was fighting back tears.
I got up and went over to her. “Mom?”
“Can you be my boy for just one more day? Please?” She hugged me tightly and rested her head against my shoulder, her face hot. “Just for today?”
I put my arms around her, a little awkwardly. I wasn’t used to being so tall, and I definitely wasn’t used to having to comfort her. “Of… of course, mom. I’ll always be your boy.”
What else would I be?