Anyway, this is the third part of my work so far. I included two lines from the previous part because it belongs here...I think. I don't know, it just doesn't make sense without it. Anyway, please read, write reviews, whatever. Oh, and if anyone has any other ideas for names for my story please tell me because "Spare Change" really sucks.
‘That thing belongs in a rubbish dump.’ I picked at a nail. Kate was intent on carrying on, however.
‘Listen, you moronic imbeciles!’ Kate sounded mad. ‘Have you seen a storm like that before, Sam? No. Didn’t think so. That was just...strange...whatever it was that happened to us. And...’ Her voice took on an odd tone. I turned to look back at her.
‘Doesn’t that look like...Jonny’s store, only, like, what it would look like in, like, the sixties or seventies? And that woman over there, her clothes look...vintage or something. And how she’s giving us a weird look, and she reminds me of that guy's mum--what's-his-face?' Tom, I thought.
'Plus it was cloudy before, like the weatherman said,' continued Kate. 'Now, the sky’s clear, no clouds at all.’ I glanced at the woman Kate described. She did look like my friend Tom’s mum.
All colour drained from Kate’s face. I shivered. The wind started to pick up around us.
‘Well, maybe the weatherman’s wrong,’ I said weakly, but my mind said She’s right, why was he wearing a black leather jacket? Even I know that’s not in fashion, plus, it’s summer now. And why does Johnny have crap stuff in his store?
This could not be happening. ‘No way in hell,’ I croaked.
My dad’s voice echoed in my head from past years: Don’t mess with things you don’t understand, son. Not that he'd been there when it mattered.
But Max had done exactly that. He had put a coin into the game. He’d tried to play it, even when it had an “OUT OF ORDER” sign splashed across the screen. He pressed the big red shiny flashing button that said “start”. Max loved shiny, flashing things.
We were in the 1970’s. Somehow, unexplainably, in some weird way, we were in forty years in the past, when our parents had been children.
‘Oh, no,’ I whispered. My eyes opened wide at Kate, and I started breathing heavily. I’m not sure what hyperventilation is, but I think it’s happening to me. Kate’s face mirrored mine, a mask of shock. I guess it was all too much for her. She sank down onto her knees.
‘No, no, no, no, it’s not possible, science says it’s NOT POSSIBLE!!!!’ She was losing “it” in denial. She moaned. I felt like doing the same thing, but first I had to ask Max something. I had to know what year was on that coin...the year it was made.
‘Hey, Max?’ I turned around.
He wasn’t there.
My little cousin wasn’t there. He’d gone.
It just got better and better.
Kate was bent over on her knees, her shins lying flat against the concrete, her arms crossed over her chest, holding herself together. I tugged her shoulder. My voice wasn’t mine as I heard it speak the words, ‘Max is gone, Kate.’
She looked up at that and looked wildly in all directions. ‘What?’ she whispered. She still looked pale, as though she might faint. Please, please, Kate, don’t faint. Don’t. Wait, I take it back: Now it was all too much for her.
She fainted, going slack right in front of me. I held her shoulders and shook her vigorously. ‘Kate!’
Zilch. Great.
I sighed, tried to get my erratic breathing under control and failed, gave up, and tried picking Kate up. Let me tell you, I am one of the most scrawniest boys in the year level, but Kate’s pretty small, so I tried once again. One more time....I braced myself...YES! I did it! I lifted her off the ground like a superhero in a movie saving a damsel in distress. I staggered under her light weight as I walked out of the alley, and thought to myself, Why does God hate me?