The Good Old Days

Trevor's Reminiscing

I remember when I was an itsy bitsy kid, I was just the star of the show. I guess, I have no f*****g clue. 

All I remembered during then was that I was a bit of a genius, apparently; it was my third grade class. We were being taught mathematics, and I was just sitting in there, with my pen poking my brain like that would do something, looking at the page just handed out to us. 

 

Greyer than grey, and more depressing than a funeral for a puppy, I remember looking through the window to see it was raining and raining, and just downright f*****g assaulting the window. 

The teacher, now that I remember, was tired, the kids were just as tired, and I was tired. Then I looked at the problems again. 

3 x 2...4 x 2. 

"oh wait that's easy." 

6, 8, 10, hey I see a pattern, 12, 14, 16, 18, 20, 22, 24, 26, 28 wait those aren't on the page, s**t I have like half of the multiples of 2 on the page. 

But then I saw the rest of the problems, and I just... did them. Like, 3/2 is 1.5, wait it said 2/2, that's 1, 8 x 3 is also 24, 150 - 27 is 123. 

Pretty soon, I had like, all of the page done and I had my hand up. 

Apparently, I had gotten it done in only like, a few minutes, and the teacher was just in absolute disbelief-- just told me to put my hand down. 

"but, but Mrs. Juliaard, I have it done?" 

"No way," I remember hearing, "Let me see that." 

And then I just sat there, seeing her mind go completely jaw stunningly blown in like a second. Not even a day later, and I was sitting in her office with my parents, hearing her gush about how I managed to get the answers correct in only 2 minutes. Hell, she gave me more, and then told me to show my work, and apparently that floored my own parents as well. 

I have no idea what the f**k happened next, they talked, I never saw any of the kids in that class again sadly -- I miss Banra, and got moved up to a class with bigger kids and like some more advanced questions on the board, I don't know. 

And then I got ice cream after that day from my ma and pa.

Either case, I learned that I had become a "gifted student" and apparently, that was just a ticket for s**t to get harder, and more pressure to be just be perfect like every other kid around me. 

Until I met Ezra. 

I remember it was one day on the playground, I was running to play a game of Pokemon Super Fighter near some scaffolding, for some reason, and I remember seeing this dude who was just sitting on a fence staring in the distance. It was a warm day, 70 degrees, sun's out, no wind or cloud in sight... but when I got close to him I could feel the air get chiller, colder around him. He was always wearing a black hoodie, and kept to himself, so maybe that was the culprit, but still. I couldn't ignore the fact he was just sitting on the thin part of a fence, and asked if he was ok. 

He was sweet, really loved animals, and was always one to talk about toys, Digimon, Pokemon... but I didn't know that at first. In fact, I scared him, knocked him right off the fence; I grabbed his hand real quick though. 

"Ah! S**t, sorry, I didn't... I'm so-"

"No no, I was just... wanna play Pokemon?" I remember asking. 

A massive grin drew on his face. 

After school, we played and played and played. Man, I remember he would crush me with his supercharged Charizard. Those days were awesome. 



Trevor puts his gadget down, snaps it shut like an old school cellphone. He looks out to his right-- A beautiful and powerful, but gentle red orange sun paints and strokes the world around him. He was sitting on a window sill, right leg splayed out, left bent up. 

He looked down, a beautiful orangish red sand gets pushed and tugged by a delicate silvery but also lapis water. 

He looks at his gadget. A cyberdeck, a hot and badass combo of modern smartphone digital-- smooth, and sleek, but rambunctious retro technological achievements as well, with hints and design cues from a Nintendo Gameboy and a Sony Walkman Series TPL02.

"He also had a thing for sick as f**k tech. I also didn't know that yet though. Instead, I just got to know after that Pokemon match, was he had a job. At age 12. Turns out, I find this out now, I was lucky with my life. My dad and mom, even though they weren't Mansa Musa, they were still really well off. But Ezra... He wasn't so lucky.

I remember sitting on his couch playing Skylanders Ultimate Legacy, and hearing his phone call him for work, and I remember asking if there was anything I could do to help. 

"Huh?" 

"I-- do you need help?"

He just stood there confused to my question. and so I asked again: 

"like, with your job?"

"oh no no, it's fine, I can handle it." 

"No really, I rarely see you in school anymore. I'm just-- what's going on with you?" 

"I'm just... seriously, it's nothing to worry about."

"But, the last time I saw you was like, a month ago. You skipped the AVE exam."

"It's fine, trust me. Seriously, it's nothing actually serious, I'm just providing for my family." 

"Huh? Wait, does your ma and pa not have a job? Because if so, I can hook them up to some--"

"No no no, they have jobs. It's just, seriously don't worry about it!"   

"Don't worry about it? Aren't you going to get held back?" 

"Well, it's either that or my family." 

Our game room was never more lifeless after that. It was like a nightmarish prison. Those windows on the back wall, had turned into an invisible but sadistic wall to our most coveted fates. I remember looking at the outside briefly, and how it rattled, wiggled its tail at us with its snowy and lovely trees.  

I just barely registered the sentence Ezra had said, and then after a few weeks, I never saw him again. I looked at him, talked to my ma and pa, hoping that they would find whatever happened to them... and I got my answer, but it was a s**t one. Rent had kicked their a*s, and so every single member of his family was putting their work in, even resorting to crime, but of course even that wasn't enough." 

Trevor gives another ponder from the window sill. He presses a button on his Cyberdeck, a photo shows up of him and three friends. 

"You think you'll ever see him again?" 

He turns his view left. 

The three friends from the photo: a girl named Aphos, and two guys named Koha, and JJ. They were sitting, lounging about. Tired. Fatigued. Lone.

"I hope to God he's ok. I just wish I got to know him more."

Silence.

"Me too man. Me too."

"hm?" Trevor hums. 

"I mean, this reminds me of someone I used to know." said Koha. "I remember hanging out with her, during a party my parents were hosting."  I remember a lot of that girl, how into writing, calligraphy, and scrapbooking she was. I mean, that wasn't the limit." Koha pulls out an origami fox. "She was into a lot of things. In fact, she really wanted to work in woodworking last time I talked... We talked. That was several years ago. I was in middle school that time." 

"Is it really that different from now?" Aphos jeers to Koha. 

"Hah, that I should ask you. Missus renewed juvie detentionee"

Aphos rolls her eyes. 

"Oh does that make me so different from you then, mister scammer, mister pathological liar." 

"Guys guys, can we cool it?" 

 JJ says, in a simple, baroque voice. Surprising for a high schooler, although not that surprising as a senior year. 

"But yeah. Said, in her texts, in our calls, her parents wanted her to call up to her "destiny" whatever the f**k that means. 'guessing she had to pick up the family's cross, and uh, become the hardened, shrewd business people that her entire family's legacy is built upon. "

Koha puts the origami fox down on the ground. 

"Guess no rest for those who dream." 

He looks at JJ.

"Hey, pass me that coke!" 

JJ flings it, and Kohas grabs it, popping the tab, and the sizzle sings through the air. 

"You think that's what happened then?" 

Trevor quickly glances behind, as JJ passes him a coke... well soda. 

"Bepis x Coke? Since when did they do a collab." Trev says

"Beats me, took the best tasting drink I could find. Well, that isn't that jazzy stuff." JJ lands his butt right on Trev's right. 

"I mean I swear. Everytime I'm looking for it. Poof, gone. Like the wind. When I'm looking for one of those magazines, bam. Like it ain't even scratched." 

Another sizzle.

"You think Ezra's now... how do I say it-- dreamless?"

"Heh." JJ sighs. "Hopefully it's." 

Struggle, with a cup of silence, and a pinch of melancholy. 

A sip. 

 

"Better."

"What's that mean?" 

"Better. Way better. I mean, hopefully, it ain't dead. Hopefully, it's all just resting."

He takes a swiping glance at Trevor. 

"what does that mean?" Trevor's brows raise

"I mean, what, we're seven, nineteen. S**t's bad, 'course it is. All s**t is." 

JJ stands. 

"I'm talking about his dreams. If they're dead, then he-- no, not that. That's too grim." 

Another sip. Another glance. 

"JJ, can you please be coherent for a second? Stop acting cool." 

"Wha. Why can't I?"

"no one knows what you're saying." 

"Ehehehaha. Yeah, fair. ok. I'm trying to say that s**t's bad but, you can always go higher. Even if it seems like life is dragging you lower... you always learn something, and therefore you always get something. That can be enough to let you fly to the sun." 

He takes a second to process his words, almost as if his retrospect smacked and scolded him, saying "t'f**k does that mean?" 

"It means one small thing can give you everything, your dreams, all of it. You just can't lose it." 

The whole gang goes silent.

Koha says "what does that mean? also, that seems--"

"Impractical. Yeah. But, Imma be honest. A little hope, is better than wallowing in complete despair, and doing absolutely nothing. You can only be a rock for so long, before it starts to hurt. And hope, can turn to power, turn to everything if you do things right. Hell, you just gotta do something, to turn hope into something."

Another sip.  

He takes another glance: just the gang a little idle from JJ's words. 

"Hah." His voice cracked a little, he takes another look at the can. 

"Wanna skip this joint then?"

"Yeah." Koha says, 

"I wanna take a picture though." Trev says. 

"Aight. On three." 

Trevor looks at his Cyberdeck. The memory sifts, fades, disintegrates into the sea that is his vision. The photo that was on it. They were all supposedly aliens, different species from different planets, but the memory, their words... they were still real. 

Aphos, the troubled vampiric werewolf; 

Koha, son of cunning hyena-okapi con artists; 

and JJ, certified anti-everything, pro- being yourself punk, with his fox avian roots deep in his blood.  

Or that's what he remembered. I, Trevor, the man retelling this story, look again at my cyberdeck, text still running from my head. It's a different model, but felt identical to the Trevor in the text. I look from my right. My ship. My Skylancer, its existence another, grand sweeping fable that will have to be told another day, is juxtaposed to the beautiful sun, and sea. 

I look to my left. I can remember exactly where each one of them stood, their clothes, their words, their faces. Their smiles. 

I look back to my front, remembering how my feet felt against the warm sun, with the gentle yet sure breeze of wind slipping by my legs. 

I lean forward, let my feet dangle in the wind, like I did all those years ago. I still can't figure out what the place I'm sitting at is or was. A castle? An abandoned zoo? A tower? A church? 

I guess I'll never get the answer to that question. And I guess for now... I don't really need it. The memory is enough. 

I lie back

The Good Old Days. 

Author's Note

notes: I'm not Trevor, nor am I a school teacher or child, or any of that. I don't actually know what's impressive for a third grader to do.

--for after the story--