| 1 There was once a man. Small in nature, he had small feet, a small frame, small clothes, just.. small. He was looking out his small window of his small house where he lived a small life with no family, when he spotted something in the distance. Over the horizon, majestic colors of deep blue and red where erupting in rays of light into the open atmosphere. Lights had always had a soothing effect on our man (Mange was his name), but these had a sort of alarming nature to them, even though he could not see what was happening nor could he fathom what could be making those rays of light shoot in the random pattern that they made. He stood there at his window for a while longer, slowly slumping into a small state of boredom, he was tired. �Why does Jaysis have to come today of all days?� thought Mange. Jaysis was a dear friend of Mange, but lived too far away, many miles away in fact, for them to have a decent friendship. But Jaysis came by every once in a while to catch up on minor things, and to go to the local tavern to see his friends that he used to know, especially Rune. Jaysis was of decent build. Small, but not nearly as small as Mange. He had bright gray hair that was jetting all over the place, but had definite form. He had menacing and brooding eyes with his irises having a purplish tint to them, perfectly complimenting his hair. He wore a dark gray cloak, much darker than his finely tuned hair, that whisped around him like having wind visibly whirling around him, his cape was always in motion. "George," said a voice. He looked away from the window viewing the bizarre lights in the distance and scanned his eyes around his comfortable living room with a small fire roasting the air all around it. "George.." There it went again, a little more urgency in it�s voice. "GEORGE!!" George Oshkinhaur lifted his head from the desk. Chemistry 101, third row, second seat. All the thoughts came back to him now as the clouds exited from his mind. He was in school. It was the very first class he had that day. "GEORGE!!" shouted Mrs. Smith as she rapped hard on his desk with a meter stick probably used to hit students more than measuring the length of various objects in centimeters. As usual, he had fallen asleep in class without knowing it. Chemistry had no real meaning to him, neither did anyone in the class, so why bother listening to anything he�s not gonna use? "Did you do your homework, George?" Said Mrs. Smith with a particularly gruesome smile today. �She must�ve been saving that face for me,� he thought. "Uhh, no ma�am. I didn�t... You see, my little brother forgot to take his medication, and you know how he gets. You�re probably going to laugh at this, but he ravenged my backpack, ripped out my science section, and literally fed every sheet to my dog. Take this any way you want, but it�s the truth," said he. It wasn�t the truth. The school day went on with no real significance. Just like every other day; Sleep and go home. That was it. 2 "As you can see, any type of combustion will always produce water," Mrs. Smith writes the chemical equation of water on the board, "and carbon dioxide," and she proceeded to write on the board further chemical equations. Max Cupric sat in the first seat of the middle row in Mrs. Smith�s first period Chemistry. Everything was easy and everything was fun when it came to science. "Excuse me, Mrs. Smith?" said Max weakly as his hand shot up into the air and pointed to the board, interrupting Mrs. Smith�s ramblings, "I believe that there�s two more oxygen on the right side of the equation that you overlooked." Evil scowls came from every angle of the classroom, but he didn�t take regard for them. He had gotten used to having people envious of his quickness and intelligence. He remembered on how his science project in 3rd grade got first in the national level because he used neutron physics and the effects it had on standard metal�s boiling points, while other people were surveying the populations to see which brand of gum they liked. His parents didn�t want him advancing in grades at all, so he was stuck at the age of 16 taking a course he had read about and learned while he was watching Mr. Roger�s Neighborhood on TV. He sighed, thinking of how pitiful his life was as he absent-mindedly passed up his homework he had completed in minutes. "GEORGE!!" shouted Mrs. Smith, shattering Max�s blast from the past and noticed that once again everyone was staring at George Oshkinhaur, the new student to Patrick Henry�s School of Educational Learning. �Why doesn�t he just try to look like he�s interested?� thought Max as George came up with another lame excuse for not doing his homework, �He�s failing, most likely.� The bell rang, and off Max went to, alas, Algebra 2. Another class who�s homework was finished in 5 minutes flat (a record he had just recently achieved). 3 The wind was chillier than it was usually. Even though it was April 17th, it felt almost as it had back in February; sharp, crispy chilliness. George bowed his head with curly brown hair into the wind and walked quickly away from the school. He had to walk home every day. His car was denied from him until he started caring about school from his parents. He was either going to wait until he was 18, or just wait until his parents finally gave in and gave him the car back. He paused at an intersection, trying to remember where his new house was. His family had just moved here (here being Withering Point) from Nevada a week ago. His sister (Joanna Oshkinhaur) recently had dropped out of college and was taking up the room they were going to give to him when they moved there. So now he was stuck sleeping on a crickety bunk-bed with his little 6 year old brother at nights. His father was a high man in the electric company called Inron, and had taken an even higher position here in Withering Point, causing the move. Life was a joke. He had friends back in Nevada. None were here. His goodbye to his former girlfriend had ended in bitter tears, he pulled out her picture from his wallet. One corner was a little bent, but her smiling face was still there, beaming away. George�s brown eyes sparkled, and he put the picture back in his wallet. He was now at his street. His brick red two-story house stuck out from all of the gray houses around it. Almost a majestic look to it. He fumbled his keys and opened the door, throwing his empty book-bag by the stairs. It really was a nice house. Besides the now shortage of bedrooms, it was very spacious. His family could roam around the house comfortably at will, and not have to cross any of their paths. A large television was in the middle of the back wall in the den, and the stereo system was blaring a commercial about how easy it is to make a loan on a car with "0.9% APR FINANCING!" He laid down on the top bunk of his bed and stared at the ceiling that was about 1.4 meters in front of his nose. He slowly slipped into unconsciousness. 4 It had happened. Question 43 on page 256 had Max completely and utterly stumped. All of the 42 questions he had done in the last 4 minutes he had done quite easily, but now he could find nothing in his large head to solve this problem. With this and his stop-watch ticking away (for he was timing himself), he became a nervous wreck. After going past the 7 minute mark, he slammed his book and lept onto his spacious bed weeping. �How? How could that problem be possible? It makes entirely no sense at all!� thought Max as bitter tears streamed his red and puffy face. Max didn�t come to dinner, not like his parents cared, though. And he slept through the night in uneasy dreams. 5 A large mass of students crossed the intersection at 6:47am on Friday, April 18th. Around 7:05, George passes that same intersection, going his usual slow, ever so slow pace. �Finally, it�s Friday,� he thought, �after today, no more teachers or "Did you do your homework, George?" coming from any of those horrible mouths of theirs.� He made off down the road towards the school, a good 150 yards off. George takes another step down the now deserted road, for all the students are probably at their lockers getting ready for the bell to ring when, Kerpow! Something smacks right into his back! He looks behind him to see what could�ve been so stupid to have ran into him. He saw a scronny guy with a bright blue button-down shirt and navy blue slacks with matching suspenders sprawled on the ground, books and papers everywhere. A small hint of pity comes over George for the now frightened and shivering and muttering under his breath blue-shirt boy, and he stoops over to help pick up some of the books and papers that were now spread all over the place. "No, it�s OK, I got it," said blue-shirt boy, "I can get my stuff." He started quickly picking up his books. George picked up a sheet of paper, and saw that there was a problem that was not done. "37+4i," said George. The blue-shirt boy froze. "Say that again," said blue-shirt boy. "The answer, its.. its 37+4i." The blue-shirted boy, now looking very oddly at George snatched up the paper, picked up the rest of his books, and walked past him on the way to school very quickly, never looking back. �At least he could thank me or something,� thought George as he stood up and walked the rest of the way to school. 6 Max woke up sweating. He didn�t feel good. He looked over at the clock, 2:39am. Nightmare�s had overcome his dreamless sleep and had awaken him to sit and dwell on how impossible this problem was. He started crying. Never before had he ever just drew a blank about math or science (or language and social studies, either). He got everything. Everything came easy to him. This wasn�t supposed to happen! He spent the rest of the night either trying to ease into uneasy sleep, or crying, or both. That morning, he must have dozed off, because the sun was shining on his face when he woke up. �CRAP!� he thought, for his clock now said 6:50am. He was going to be late being early! He jumped out of bed, slapped on some of his finely-pressed clothes, no bother for a jacket today, and walked out of the door trying to balance his mass amount of books in one hand while trying to fasten his suspenders with his other. He power-walked down the sidewalk, still dwelling on how to solve that problem. �Oh cursed book! Of all the pages you have of problems, you bring me to that one!� thought Max as he jetted for school. He turned the corner and fled down the street, watching the ground to see if he could avoid stepping on any of the many cracks, and pondering his fate when Mrs. Tyrus finds out he couldn�t finish his homework. Suddenly, he came into a solid object. A big solid object at that. His books went flying, HE went flying, everything was briefly black, but when vision returned, he noticed that the large object was no other than.. what�s his name.. George Oshkinhaur. "George Oshkinhaur," Max mutters under his breath, "Why me? Why today?" Max looked around and saw all his papers and books spread everywhere. He looked around to make sure everything was accounted for. Yup, all there. George stooped down and started to pick up some papers with his massive hands, probably all grungy with who knows what. �Think of something, quick!� thought Max. "No, it�s OK, I got it.. I can get my stuff," he said to George. George looked at him with a look of malice in his eyes. He started to scurry about and gather his papers and books before George could get his dirty hands on any more of them, so disgusting. �Man, I wish he would just go aw..� "37+4i," said George looking down at one of his papers, interrupting Max�s thoughts. �37+4i? What does that me..� thought Max, now realizing what was being said to him. �Of course! Add that to the.. and then.. my gosh! That�s.. that�s.. correct!� �Wait a minute, how could he have known? Maybe I�m just hearing things,� he thought. "Say that again," he said. "37+4i," said George, clearer than ever. �But how could he..?� he thought. �Impossible, he cant know that. Give me that,� he thought as he snatched up his paper from him, �Someone as stupid as him cant figure out something so fast.� He left for the school in a fury of rage, leaving that.. that.. dimwit behind him. That�ll show him. 7 It was raining. George�s parents were still at work, and his car was in the garage, so he left the school with his head down while trotting lightly. His dark brown shirt soon turned an even darker shade, and he was starting to shiver as he made it past the intersection, turning left. He looked forward down the road towards his house and noticed that.. that boy who had run into him a few days before was sitting on the curb of his lawn, shivering and shuttering violently. The boy looked up at George, and instantly stood up. "How did you know that answer?" asked the soaked boy trying to wrap his arms across his stomach and sides trying to keep warm. George looked at him for a minute, almost wanting to push that scronny kid back and go inside, �HE NEVER THANKED ME,� he thought. But, again, his pity took over him. "Come inside," said George roughly to the shaking kid who had been sitting in the rain waiting for him. George walked towards his house and the kid followed behind, at a safe distance. They went inside, taking off their now soaked shoes and went upstairs to George�s room. Once they got in there, George climbed up onto his top bunk and lied there, in silence. After a while, the boy asked him again. "How did you know that answer?" he said. "Tell me your name and why you want to know, and I might consider letting you know." "Uhh, let�s call me Max. Max Cupric. I couldn�t figure out that problem that took you onl.." "You�re in my Chemistry class, aren�t you?" said George, interrupting Max. "Yes, yes I am." "What are your grades in that class?" "Well, its actually 115, but they only count it as a hun.." "Do you like science?" said George, interrupting again. "It suits me." George lied there for a while longer, in silence. Max was standing in the middle of the clean room dripping, waiting for an answer. Finally George hoisted himself over and let his feet dangle over the side of the bed. "I had a 4.6666 gpa in Nevada, before we moved here. I had a nice house, I had a good school, but most importantly, I had friends there. Even though I�m large, I�m still about just as smart as you are, just not as willing to show it as you are. I don�t like it here, nobody likes me here, and I�m not going to try to make friends, because we might move again," said George with a sort of pleading look in his eyes. "But nothing matters anymore," he said, hoisting himself back into his laying position on his bed. He lied there in silence for a while longer, staring up at the ceiling. Max looked down at his watch. "So you�re some kinda genius like I am?" he said with a hint of sarcasm in his voice. "If you want to call me that, go ahead." "I see," he said now staring at George. Silence filled the room for the next 30 seconds as the ceiling fan made a silent hum. Max looked at the floor, then to the wall, and tapped his feet on the carpeted floor to some unknown rhythm. "You can go if you want," said George, still staring at the ceiling. Max looked up at him. "Right." He went to the door of the room, overlooking the hallway and as he was passing through it, George said, "Come again sometime, I want to show you something." "Right," said Max now standing in the doorway. He stood there just a few seconds longer before he went downstairs to put on his shoes, and out the door. 8 Rain soaked every piece of clothing Max had on. �Where is he?� thought Max as he stood there on the curb of that strange character�s yard. He walked onto the yard, the ground squishing beneath him, and stood under one of the numerous trees. Even though it made the rain come crashing down less frequently, it came in much larger drops which ultimately defeated the purpose of finding shelter. He walked back out to the curb and sat down. "If he�s not here in 5 minutes, I�m leaving," he said to himself, shivering. He was cold and wet and could find ten things he�d rather be doing right off the tip of his tongue. But he didn�t move. He had to find out how this George Oshkinhaur had figured out the answer and he wasn�t leaving till he found out. He had gone off to school in a fuss that morning when �the incident� occurred and, sure enough, the answer that George had said was right. No one in his class had been able to get the answer except Max, which wasn�t really Max�s answer in the first place. �I�ve got to know,� he thought, now shivering violently. Rain felt like it was soaking into his skin. �I�ve got to take a nice, long shower when I get home,� he thought, �IF I EVER DO GET HOME!� He heard a different sound other than the constant hum of the rain towards his right. He looked over and there he was, trotting with his dark brown shirt soaked. �Took him long enough,� he thought as he stood up. He looked up at the tall George Oshkinhaur with a steely look in his expression. "How did you know that answer?" he said as questioningly as he could. He wrapped his arms around himself, still shaking. It was cold. George looked at him a minute. �What�s he waiting for?� Max thought. He wasn�t used to George�s mysterious ways yet. "Come inside," said George, now breaking the silence and headed for the house. Max was cold, and wet. He sighed and followed him into the house, taking off his shoes at the foot of the stairs before he went up the stairs. �Nice house,� he thought to himself, �he�s definitely hiding a lot more than he�s showing. I woulda never guessed he was this rich by the looks of him at school.� The house was actually nice. The carpet was about a half-inch high and deep crimson red and the walls of the upstairs had wallpaper of gold-colored trimmings around varying curvy shapes of deep blues and greens. Completely luxurious. Max had a fun time just looking at the walls and carpets of the house on the way to George�s room. They hadn�t said a word yet, but there was a definite concentration in the atmosphere. They got to his room. George climbed up onto the top of a blue bunk-bed that creaked loudly and frequently. Max stood there, waiting for George to talk or something. "How did you know that answer?" asked Max after a period of time where he just stood there, frozen. George�s answer came quickly and clearly, he really had a pronunciation voice. "Tell me your name and why you want to know, and I might consider letting you know." �My name! Of course! I never introduced myself. Geez, Max, you cant even let people know you properly,� Max thought to himself quickly. He said, "Uhh, let�s call me Max. Max Cupric. I couldn�t figure out that problem that took you onl.." "You�re in my Chemistry class, aren�t you?" said George, interrupting Max. �Well duh, yes I�m in your chem class. So nice of you to notice,� he thought. "Yes, yes I am." "What are your grades in that class?" asked George, rather quickly. "Well, its actually 115, but they only count it as a hun.." "Do you like science?" said George, interrupting again. "It suits me," said Max. George�s questioning had come so quickly that Max was just saying what he thought of first, no time for thinking. �What is he thinking?� thought Max. Silence had pushed its way through again. Max took a look around the room as George lied there, not talking. It was a nice room. The bottom bunk consisted of an un-made bed with sheets with space-rockets randomly placed all over it. Obviously another smaller child lived here, but Max hadn�t seen anyone since he had gotten here. There was a decent personal computer in the corner on a large computer desk. �19-inch monitor, wireless keyboard, wireless mouse, CD-RW, 52x CD-ROM drive, nice resolution,� thought Max as he systematically checked the specs on the computer. It was a nice computer. |
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