Author's Note: What are you looking here for? Read the story! (Please)
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~*March 28th, 1959*~
Cliff looked through the magazine that showed women in nothing but lingerie and heavy makeup.
He turned to another page, and leaned in to get a better look.
"Cliff!"
He closed the magazine and placed it under one of the school books on his desk.
"Ma!"
A woman with light brown hair wrapped in a bun had opened his door and was wearing a light blue apron with red stains on it over a simple dark blue dress.
"What's that on your dress?"
"I'm making a pie for the neighbors." She stepped forward and leaned. "What are you looking at?"
Cliff reached over and grabbed a different school book from the table. He lifted it up so she could see.
"Schoolwork. It's due Monday."
"Ah, very well. I guess I'll have to tell Drew to call you back—"
"Drew's on the phone?"
"Yes, but you have—"
Cliff leaped out of his chair and raced past her to get to the telephone on the table in the living room.
He picked up the face-down receiver, and held it to his ear.
"I don't hate kids!"
"Well you've got a damn funny way of showing it!"
Cliff put the receiver away from his ear, confused. He had just heard a man's voice who sounded a lot like Drew's dad, but he had no idea who the woman was.
He put the receiver back against his ear.
"Hello?"
He heard a shuffling.
"Cliff! Sorry about that," Drew said on the other line.
"What the heck's going on over there?"
"My dad and my aunt Susie got in a big fight this morning."
"Oh."
Cliff shook his head.
"So, are you still coming over here next Saturday? I wanna introduce you to my friend—"
"Actually, that's what I wanted to talk to you about. We're leaving Oakwimbay and we're never coming back."
Cliff's happy expression faded away.
"What?"
"Yeah, my dad told me just now. I don't know what my aunt did, but I've never seen him this angry before. Not even with me."
Cliff frowned.
"He's probably just disappointed that he ended up with a no good, weasel-eyed mouth breathing son like you."
"Huh?"
Cliff slammed the receiver down.
Dumbass. He's got terrible music taste anyway.
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~*March 5th, 2786*~
"Everyone got their helmets on?" Adam asked them all.
Drew placed the helmet on his head.
"Do we have to tie them?" Jack asked.
"No, not yet," Adam told him.
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