I haven't 100% forever and always given up on this. I still have some parts in reserve, but I don't see a reason in posting them now without any concrete plans to write moar. I kind of stopped writing there for a bit, and I think it was partially due to a large increase in my time spent reading books. Well, good news, I'm almost out of reading material. I'm going to finish this last series, and then, maybe, possibly, hopefully, I'll work on this story some more.
I haven't 100% forever and always given up on this. I still have some parts in reserve, but I don't see a reason in posting them now without any concrete plans to write moar. I kind of stopped writing there for a bit, and I think it was partially due to a large increase in my time spent reading books. Well, good news, I'm almost out of reading material. I'm going to finish this last series, and then, maybe, possibly, hopefully, I'll work on this story some more.
Still a few people:
Okaaaay so maybe you just need to rekindle the spark? Books are good. That would be most enjoyable if you get to it. :3
In my humble opinion, I shouldn’t be here. My face was pressed up against the window of a hovercar that was en route to Calgary, sitting across from a complete stranger. I was ignoring her, hoping to delay the inevitable conversation.
“So…Nathan.”
“Nate.” I corrected her.
“Right, Nate.” She sighed. “Let’s start this off on the right foot, shall we?”
“I don’t have a right foot.” I snarled.
She was seated in what would normally be the driver’s seat, but as far as I could tell, she wasn’t doing any driving. Stupid fancy self-driving hovercars. There was nothing to distract her. “Look, kid, you’re only stuck with me for like ten minutes. Hear me out.”
“I don’t have a choice. My earbuds are in the trunk.”
She was getting visibly agitated. “So, you’re going to be staying with the Tremblays.”
“Awesome. I hate them already.”
She flipped through the paperwork. “They have some fish…and a daughter.”
I love how the fish ranked above the daughter.
“They’re like, late forties or something. Not the daughter.” She hurriedly added.
“Oh, the fish.” I nodded my head wisely.
Her fists clenched in her lap. “They have volunteered to take you in.” She put emphasis on the word volunteer.
“Some people make a hobby of bad life choices.” I said in return, turning back to the window. The buildings were getting thicker. Air traffic increased exponentially.
She glared at me. “Look at me, pal.”
“It’s Nate. I never said you could call me pal.” I gave her the satisfaction of eye contact via a hostile glare.
I was the first out, stretching after the rather long ride. I cracked my neck, which made a resounding pop. My joints tended to stick a bit. I dragged my stuff out of the trunk, shoved it all under my arms, and glanced at my caretaker. She eyed me, trying to decide if she was obligated to offer to carry some.
“You ain’t touching my stuff.” I decided for her.
“Ah.” She said, visibly relieved. She walked up to the door, and rang the bell.
I don’t think “door” did it justice. You know, back home, we actually had these metal things that kind of slid out of the way. Here, the whole thing was a shimmering hologram. We could walk right through. I waved my hand at it, and was astounded when my hand smacked something solid. I retracted my hand. My caretaker gave me a superior smile. She had been waiting all this time for me to do something stupid that she could smile condescendingly about.
I reached out, and rapped on the door hard. She lost her smile as she waited for me to stop.
The door melted away from beneath my fingers, to reveal a woman who was just about the right age to be my older sister. “Hello.”
“Hey, wait right here, I’ll go get Nathan.” I turned back around.
“Not funny.” My caretaker snagged my arm. “This is Nathan.”
“I thought we’d decided on Nate.” I said, turning back around.
The woman was watching me, trying to figure out what exactly she had gotten herself into. And she hadn’t even seen my freak arm yet.
“Well, I’m August.” She said, holding out a hand for me to shake.
I appreciated she didn’t try any of that “I’m mom now” stuff from the movies. “Nate. It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m a bit loaded right now.” I could’ve shifted stuff, but while a glove masked my deformity well, it didn’t pass inspection on grip.
“Well, come in, come in!” She stepped to the side. I stepped inside, glancing at the door frame, trying to figure out the magic door.
Once inside I realized why the fish were first on the paperwork. There was a humongous tank taking up a whole wall of their living room. I swear I saw a shark in there. It’d be hard to top ‘em.
The girl almost did. I caught a glimpse of their daughter as she flung herself into the room. “Looky there, it’s the hobo.”
August did the introductions. “Nate, this is December.”
I was sensing a trend here. I raised an eyebrow at her. “Like the month?”
“Oh, no, I was named after the planet.” She rolled her eyes. “Gosh, you’re an idiot.” She was wearing a purple t-shirt, tight blue jeans, and tennis shoes. Her scarf almost stole the show, it was an exotic, fluffy thing that was wound around her neck like an affectionate serpent, but in fact, it was her hair that sealed the deal. It was twisted into tight dreadlocks, some of them braided even. The whole mess reached down towards her waist, almost but not quite long enough to sit on. They were died a bright white towards the tips, and were a deep black coming out of her scalp. She definitely didn’t lack personality.
I pulled the last glove off, and carefully set it on the ground. And then I basically dashed for the stairs.
I had logged out of the game when I finally recognized the insistent beeping in the back of my consciousness as a warning buzzer that I was dangerously low on fuel, ahem, food.
So now I was a bit dizzy, and trying to navigate through a new house. I clambered down the steps, bumped into the wall, and then pulled myself into the kitchen, leaning heavily on a counter. I made my way to the fridge, threw it open, and let my eyes rove over the contents. There wasn’t much. In fact, there was a giant hole in the back of it, which I could only assume the Tremblays knew about.
A hand tapped me on the shoulder. “Allow me.”
I turned to see December standing beside me, dressed in a fuzzy shirt and pants, her scarf still wrapped about her throat.
“The good stuff is all in here.” She opened another door, and a colder blast of air emitted. She grabbed a carton. “See, ice cream. That’s got midnight snack written all over it.”
I grabbed it, nodding my thanks. I snatched a dirty spoon off the counter, and snapping the lid off, started shoveling it into my mouth.
I glanced up at her. She was staring at me intensely. “What’s up?”
“Nothing.” She grabbed another spoon and chipped out a spoonful from the same carton. “Good stuff, right?”
“It’s giving me brainfreeze.” I kept eating, though.
“So, uh, how long you had that?” She gestured at my exposed metallic hand. I mentally cursed myself, I had forgotten to pull on another pair of gloves after taking off my gaming ones.
I tugged on my sleeve, but it was no use. I gave a little grunt. “Years.”
“I’m going to assume you don’t think of it as your best feature?” She raised an eyebrow, sneaking another spoonful.
“I know how it makes other people feel.” I said, assuming she was referring to the gloves I had been wearing previously.
“It’s fascinating.” She said.
“Thanks, nerd.” I hunkered lower over the carton.
“Freak.” She shot back. “How much of you is metal?”
“Almost half.” I passed the carton to her.
“How’d it happen?” She dug out a huge chunk.
“It’s just a fad where I come from.” I cracked a pained grin to let her know I was kidding.
She put her spoon down. “No, really.”
"I was in the car when my parents died.” I said. “Drunk driver.”
“I’m sorry.” She said, cursing under her breath.
“My dad was the drunk.” And we finished the carton in silence.
Ok, I’lladmit it, that last line caught me off guard...
The next day was all about saying no. Did I want new clothes? No. Did I want to see the city? No. Did you know you’re going to have to go to school? No. That one came as a shocker.
“School?” I choked out once I was upstairs.
December, who was hanging around my room like she owned it, picked at her nails. “Of course. We’re not going to break off your education just cause of the move.”
“No-no-no-no-no-no-NO!” I rubbed my temples, feeling the synthesized skin rub against the metal underneath. “This can’t be happening. No. Just no. Can’t do it.”
“You’re acting like education is a foreign concept to you.” She sneered, biting at a nail finally.
“It brickin is!” I snarled back.
“Huh, what?” She asked, sitting up now, nails forgotten.
I buried my head in my hands, but then jumped up to kick at a shirt lying on the floor. “I never went to school.”
Her eyes widened. “You’re a heathen.”
“That’s not what that word means.”
“Illegitimate.”
“Yes, but still no.”
“Illiterate.” She finally reached.
I shook my head. “No, I’m not. There’s a whole brickin’ internet out there. I learned to read when I was four.”
That fact seemed to cool her jets a bit. “Math?”
“One plus one equals eleven.” I grinned cockily.
“Seven times nine?” She shot back, dead serious.
“Sixty-three.” I replied. “Look, I got the basics down. Brick, nobody over there ain’t got that. We just saved ourselves hundreds of hours and some public salaries and all taught ourselves.”
“You’re dead meat.” She said. “They’ll pick you apart like vultures.”
“They?”
“Teachers. Students. The janitor. Everybody.” She waved her arm expansively, almost knocking off a lamp.
“Oh, well, good, nothing to worry about then.” I rolled my eyes. “Guess it’s time to play my ace.”
“And that is?”
“I show your mom the arm and she’ll freak out and send me back home.”
I'm going to finish this last series, and then, maybe, possibly, hopefully, I'll work on this story some more. 
![[y]](http://storage.proboards.com/6672327/images/WYWPH2VRo26pOFDid7QZ.png)
![[derp]](http://storage.proboards.com/6672327/images/YqNTPqyQUocVMYXZgUAI.png)
I guess that's true for most people. :max_bytes(150000):strip_icc()/16_Love-5bb4c12bc9e77c00263933b3.jpg)
![[~]](http://storage.proboards.com/6672327/images/ozFsbNeZhKNyVxseYHGI.png)
