Foresight

Chapter 2

Mike was sat in the front seat of the car watching the world fly by: yellow cabs whizzing past, people desperately trying to get their attention, large pretentious trucks pulling some ridiculously loud logo for some company, buildings varying from shops, cafés and restaurants. Mike looked over to the driver's seat, where his dad was fixated on the road, and smiled. "Thanks for this dad," he said, still feeling a little guilty about earlier. His dad smiled, keeping his eyes on the road, and nodded slightly.

"It's not a problem Michael, all you have to do is ask – I may be an Inspector but that doesn't mean I don't have time to give my son a ride when he needs it," His dad replied. A shadow crossed his face, Mike knew what was following. "I'd rather this because at least I know for sure where you're going," His dad continued.

"Dad I know that, after what happened to Jack and Mom, you want to keep me safe – but please tell me you know that I would never lie to you about where I am – even if it'll get me into trouble," Mike replied, feeling somewhat anxious. Generally speaking, his dad was not an invasive parent. His dad respected Mike's boundaries and was not judging of any of Mike's actions – not that they were particularly out of line. However, his father was very over-protective. The only thing he was invasive about was Mike's whereabouts and he excelled at pinpointing Mike's exact location at any given time of the day. It was a remarkable, yet very irritating habit and it really made Mike feel like he was on a leash sometimes.

"Honestly..." His father began. He then pulled the car up just down the street from Starbucks – where Mike was meeting Connor – and turned to look at his son, with a somewhat sad expression. "I don't know Mike – I'm sorry I just really don't," Mike looked hurt but his father hadn't finished. "I've heard what kids your age get up to these days and well... I'm worried because you aren't impenetrable son, you may be sensible but you aren't perfect – I'm worried you'll slip up and I won't be able to catch you,".

Mike looked at his dad, despite the deepness of the conversation, he couldn't help but feel slightly angry. "So, you don't trust me?" he asked, trying to keep calm.

"No! God no! Of course I do!" his dad said quickly, throwing up his hands. "It's just that, I worry, that's just what fathers do– you can understand that right?" His dad looked at him desperately. Mike's anger melted away – it wasn't fair for him to be angered by this and he knew it. His dad was only pedantic because he didn't want to lose another son.

"Yes, dad I can, it's just -," Mike's sentence was sharply cut off by a twinge in his stomach. It was like he'd just been shoved except instead of falling, he'd absorbed the whole impact. He let out a sharp gasp and closed his eyes as his ears began to ring. Then came the wooziness. Like he'd desynced with reality. The black void of the back of his eyelids flashed bright white and suddenly... He saw an image. He saw his friend Connor, riding his bike along an avenue just when an open convertible car, driven by a seemingly-intoxicated woman, came speeding along the road. He saw his friend flinch. He saw the hood collide with the side of the bike.

And then he was back.

"Son? Mike!" His dad's voice sounded, like a distant echo. Mike opened his eyes. He was back in the car with his dad, who was looking at him worryingly. "Michael, are you okay?" His dad asked. Mike didn't know what to say. What on earth was that? Was that a seizure? A hallucination?

"Yeah – um – just a hiccup!" Mike replied quickly. He looked at his dad and gave him a half-convincing smile, yet his dad still looked at him suspiciously.

"Okay, see you tonight son," His Dad finally said, after a few minutes.

"Bye Dad, love you," Mike said before climbing out of the car. Mike walked up to the door to Starbucks and entered. The familiar smell of different caffeinated drinks filled the air and invaded his nostrils. Surprisingly, the whole place was quite empty, the counter was at the far end of the room and the tables were dotted around randomly and on either end of the room there were individual booths. Connor was sitting in their regular booth on the left-hand side of the café – he had green eyes and dark black hair and cleared at least six feet with a scratchy ghost of a beard and a generally handsome face. Mike walked over, completely forgetting his whatever-it-was, and sat down in front of his friend, smiling.

"You're late short one," Connor said, grinning.

"And you're early tall one," Mike replied, raising his eyebrows in mock-seriousness. This was just how their friendship worked: they mocked each other, laughed about it and Connor ensured that anyone trying to beat up Mike ended up with two black eyes and a broken nose. Both friends laughed at each other.

After they'd got their drinks, they began talking about the week that had just passed by at high school. "So, you and Polly broke up?" Mike asked. Connor nodded, somewhat sheepishly.

"Yeah – it was one of those typical 'it's not you it's me' moments," Connor replied, though Mike wasn't surprised – his friend had gone through at least ten break ups, and that was only this year.

"Really sorry man, you were taking her to the Junior Prom, weren't you?" Mike said, sympathetically. Connor just shrugged in response to the question.

"To be honest, it's not a big deal, I mean – c'mon! I'm Connor Brockles! Do you honestly think I won't get a date? Connor said, laughing as he said the last part. Mike chuckled weakly and hung his head.

"Yeah, you'll get a date," Mike said, sombrely. He didn't usually care about dating but it was times like this that sent him into a spiral of existentialism. Connor patted Mike on the arm, playfully.

"Oh, come on Mike! You'll get a date!" Connor said encouragingly, "I mean there's always the cheerleading team – odds are one of them will take you!". Mike chuckled hoarsely.

"So, since I can't get a girl with a brain, it means I have to pick from the dimmest of wits in the school?" Mike asked sarcastically. Connor shrunk back into himself slightly.

"I... Didn't mean it like that man..." he began but Mike cut him off with a smile.

"It's okay, I know you didn't mean it like that, it's just –," Mike stopped short. He considered for a moment before continuing, "you have so much choice because you're – well – you. But I'm me and... Well nobody would be caught dead with me,".

"Oh, c'mon, man I think you're being way too hard on yourself," Connor said, trying to cheer Mike up. Mike just bowed his head.

"Maybe I just shouldn't go..." He said somewhat distantly. Connor opened his mouth to protest, but Mike continued, "I mean – prom just makes people feel pressurised to get a date and, well, I can hardly turn up without a date – and I'm sorry but there's no way I'm third-wheeling with you your date,".

"Why can't you?" Connor asked.

"Because it's me – and the minute Finn Gregson and Bruce Phelps see me walk in without a date or, worse, third-wheeling, they'll take it as, yet another, excuse to ridicule me and ruin my Friday night," Mike replied, "I would've just wasted good money on hair gel, cologne and a ticket to just go to a night filled with hell – it's bad enough that I have to deal with it during the day time,". Mike took a large swig of his Mocha, much like a drunk in a pub, trying to drown his sorrows. Connor looked at him with serious eyes.

"If those dumb dickheads want to hurt you, they're going to have to go through me," Connor said protectively, "Come on Mike, you're always doing something for everyone else; you're always helping me with English Homework or hiding out in the rec-room with the chess nerds just so you don't have to eat in the cafeteria – you deserve to have one night where you just do something fun and a bit crazy just for you,". Mike sighed. Connor was right. He hardly ever did anything other than go out for coffee or heading down to RadioShack – he never went out partying or to concerts. And honestly, he did want to go to the prom. He just didn't want to go there and be tormented. He tried hard to hide it, but he was particularly sensitive – and Finn Gregson and Bruce Phelps got right on his nerves.

"You're right," Mike said conceding, "you know what, I'm gonna go to that prom and I'm

gonna find myself a pretty little date! It's time to show the ladies just what a catch I am! And if they don't want me – who cares! Their loss!" Mike exclaimed, feeling pumped.

"Atta-boy!" Connor said. They both got up and swept out of the café.