Just the Tickets by Laurence A. Marsland

     Colin was in the bad books again. It was nothing new. He was used to it, but he didn’t like it. No matter what he tried, he seemed to make a complete hash of it. And no matter how hard he tried to keep it quiet, it always found its way to his Mother.

     Even when it didn’t, she had that damned women’s intuition and then he would face the third degree until he spilled the beans. Oh it wasn’t all bad. He was never grounded like Jimmy Neal down the road who spent every other week confined to his bedroom, or Sam Howell who had all his pocket money taken off him. Or Judy Marshall, who despite her apparent stature and gymnastic ability, seemed to be very clumsy at home.

     No. It wasn’t bad at all. Colin’s parents recognised that his mess-ups were not deliberate. There was sympathy in his Mother’s reactions, but never the less, he knew he had to make up for it.

     This time he had the perfect solution; Barry Manilow! His friend George Seddon had seen the posters on his way home last week. ‘Barry Manilow Live in St Georges Hall next week.’ Colin knew his Mother loved Barry Manilow. What a perfect way to get back into her good books, although he knew that wouldn’t last for too long.

     On Saturday he would be able to go out with his friends. He was always allowed out on a Saturday. He would have money then too, and he would be able to get the tickets then. But he would have to keep it quiet. There would be Jon Moffat to avoid. And if anyone knew, they would surely tell just to save their own skins. If they knew he had money they would take it off him, and no one could be trusted. 

     It was a hard week leading up to Saturday. The excitement was building and Colin was sure his Mother suspected something. If he didn’t control it better she would be giving him the third degree again and he wouldn’t be able to keep it secret. He knew he had to stay calm, but it was very hard. It was the only thing on his mind! He couldn’t concentrate on anything else, and the more he thought about it, the more excited it made him. Even his Dad had been giving him curious looks and that meant his excitement had been very noticeable.

     Saturday was still days away. Colin was sure he wasn’t going to make it, and in his heightened state of excited anxiety, he foolishly told Judy Marshall on their way to school. It seemed the right thing to do at the time. He felt he’d needed to tell someone, and Judy Marshall was a sweet girl. She was very quiet and if anyone could keep his secret, it would be her.

     By lunch time he knew how wrong he had been. It seemed everyone knew. Even the dinner ladies said what a sweet idea it was, and that his Mother would be very proud of him, and although that filled Colin with pride and made him feel very warm inside, nothing could prevent the anxiety from building, knowing that so many people knew, and now it would surely get back to his Mum before the weekend.

     He didn’t speak to Judy Marshall on the way home that night. In fact the way he felt, he was sure he would never speak to her ever again. She didn’t seem to notice. She barely spoke anyway, but Colin normally made up for that. He usually talked the whole way home.

     Saturday eventually came, though it had seemed an even longer week than ever to Colin. He found it difficult not to speak, especially to his friends. He liked to talk, though strangely he thought he hadn’t gotten into as much trouble at school this week. But now he had his money, and he was on his way to meet George Seddon and go get the tickets.

     Colin reached the corner of the street where George lived and stopped. George wasn’t there. It wasn’t like him to be late, but Colin had set off early so he decided to wait a while. George had never let him down before.

     He hated waiting. He had always been the impatient sort. But now the worse thing happened. He recognised Jon Moffat’s voice on the instant he heard him shout,

      “There’s the retard! Get him!” There was the sound of heavy running feet and Colin set off running down the street. He didn’t know which house George Seddon lived in, and he didn’t know where St. George’s Hall was, but he knew he couldn’t wait around. There were far too many bullies in Jon Moffat’s gang for Colin to handle. Even Jon Moffat on his own was too much for Colin.

     At the end of the street he turned left, ran across the street and down an alleyway on the other side. He was struggling for breath. Colin wasn’t built for running, but as he reached half way down the alley he could hear the heavy thunder of chasing feet as they turned into the alley.

     He sucked in his breath and heard himself whoop as he struggled to keep his feet moving. His lungs hurt but the bullies wouldn’t stop. At the end of the alleyway he stopped and leaned against the wall in desperation, daring a glimpse back he saw they were almost upon him. Staggering forward into the road, still struggling for breath he saw it. Straight in front of him, and right behind Colin and George’s school, St. George’s school for special children. Here was St. George’s Church Hall, and the big sign next to the door which declared;

‘Friday Night from 7, For One Night Only,

Garry Manilove sings.

     Discarded tickets drifted about on the steps outside in the breeze before the solid locked doors as the space in Colin’s head echoed and mocked him once again.  

    

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Chasing Closure by Cody Bridges

     Looking back on it all now, I didn't want to jump. But saying that that is where things

went wrong is probably lacking hindsight, because the thing that got me into this

situation had been boiling over for almost a year. It was only a matter of time before it

all became too much and I got roped into the position I am in right now, feeling a harsh

wind blowing over my face as I fall and fall and fall. I guess I have quite a while to think

about this actually.

     Most people would tell you, fondly looking back on their college years, that it was

the best years of their lives. These people are crazy, or amnesiacs. Because I can pretty

clearly remember being in tears at the end of every week, having failed to adequately

stare down the pile of tests and papers that my course load had given me. I escaped my

junior year with a suffering GPA and no prospect for Grad school and no internship

program that would accept me. But things were about to get worse, in a very big and

very scary way. It started with the email.

“Dear Ms. Beverly Walker,

     It has come to our attention that you have failed a required class and must

retake it; however with the current pace you are keeping you would be unable to finish

your degree within the next year. We suggest you plan a meeting with your academic

advisor so that you can plan a strategy to graduate either on time or after a summer or

semester of extra studies.

Signed

Assistant Dean Gretchen Winslow”

     Panic is such a simple, short little word, but I really do think that it fits many

situations very well. It especially fits the situations where you discover that you might

have to pay for another semester of college after racking up tens of thousands of dollars

of loans as it is. It also fits when you realize that you might have to graduate later than

you expected. Thinking of the word now, it almost calms me, in a sort of ironic cosmic

joke sort of way. For a word that means to lose all hope and freak out, it works so well in

so many situations that it puts me at ease to think that it is always there for me.

     So, a half hour of hyperventilation and a quick phone call later and I was all set to

meet up with my academic advisor. My advisor, Francine Oplin, was this plump little

woman who was always wearing the same black knit jacket over some god-awful ugly

dress. She was a sweet lady though, and had spent quite a few hours helping me with my

various academic problems. I met up with her the next afternoon.

     She was, of course, wearing a patterned dress with what might have been flowers or

might have been drips of neon paint on a dark background. The knit jacket hung on the

back of her desk chair, as it was unseasonably hot for September. She was busying

herself with little things when I came in, moving around office supplies and breathing

heavily through her mouth. She beckoned for me to come in and sit down.

     “You know, they should have sent you this before summer registration not in the fall.

You would have had more time,” she said as she took her own seat and folded her

chubby hands on the desk.

     “I wish they had because now I feel like I have this huge deadline over my head that I

am definitely going to miss. I'm really glad you could see me so soon.” I was feeling

better just sitting in her office. It smelled of flowers and cleanliness, the way an older

woman would want her house to smell. The way I would like my apartment to smell, but

just can't quite get it to.

     “I have bad news Bev. There is no feasible way for you to graduate on time. Even if

you took a two extra classes these next two semesters you wouldn't make it. I'm sorry

hon.” Her voice was soft and gentle, but matter of fact. She frowned slightly after she

was finished.

     “Wow. There's really no way at all?” I'm sure I sounded devastated.

     “No. You'd have to take another semester, maybe two due to the way the classes fall.”

She was still frowning, but trying to make me feel better with the tone of her voice.

     “What can I do then?” The question started from wanting to know how to schedule

my classes, but a gentle sob at the end of my sentence revealed that I literally had no

clue what to do anymore. College was supposed to be what people did. When you

finished high school, you did college, and then you got a job. My life was unraveling,

like a scarf on a fence post in the wind, each little gust making it smaller and smaller.

     “Do you want my honest opinion at this point?” She looked me right in the eyes. I

nodded.

     “Drop out.” She responded instantly to my confused look, “Beverly I've never met

anyone who has disliked college so much but kept trying so hard to finish. Be honest

with yourself: you hate it here.”

     She was shockingly accurate. From the moment I got to school I had disliked the

people, my roommate, the classes, and the pace of my studies. It seemed dismal from the

outset but I had stubbornly continued despite it all.

     “You really think that's the best idea?” I asked.

     “For you, it would be like a break after a long ordeal. You don't need a degree to be

successful.” She smiled, finally. And so did me.

     “It's a shame, I almost made it,” I said placidly.

     “Yeah, almost.” She got back up and started tidying things again.

So, working as a check-out girl at the grocery store, despite all the grumpy people

and the long hours, was like a break. I had enough money to pay my rent and bills. I

started meeting people in my building instead of obsessing over homework every night.

I was at a party one night when this girl started talking about something that caught my

attention.

     “It is exhilarating. Like nothing I've ever tried before. Unreal.” She laughed with the

group of inebriated girls around her.



     “What's exhilarating?” I asked, trying to edge myself into the conversation.

     “Oh, I'll take you with me next time, you live downstairs right? I'll just knock on your

door the next time I go, OK?” She talked fast, and I didn't expect her to actually come to

see me, but she did.

     So here I am. Wind roaring past my face, the ground getting closer moment by

moment. I look up and the girl from my building is signaling to her back. I pull the cord

and my chute opens. The last minute or so, we sink slowly toward the ground. As we

land, I look over at her and she gives me a big thumbs up.

     “We went too early. We almost made it!” She yells over the wind.

     “What?” I yell back as she points to a target in the grass.

     “Almost! But we were close, right?” She gives me a hug after I detach my pack.

     “Close enough, if you ask me.” As I hug her back, I smile.

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the law.

Finders Keepers by Jackie Martin

     Was it being in the right place at the right time? Or the wrong place at

the right time? Jimmy wasn’t entirely sure, but taking his opportunities

when they arose was his field of expertise.

     When a bag full of money landed squarely at his feet he didn’t need

telling twice to pick it up and run like hell. He didn’t actually need telling

at all!

     Diving precariously onto his old Suzuki motorbike and wincing with

pain from the landing almost toppling it over in his haste, he kick-started

it already on the move, hoping the two cops with the guns behind that

nearest car hadn’t noticed him. Wow! A bank robbery here! Jimmy’s

mind was in a whirl as he revved his bike away and left onto Westerna

Boulevard. He couldn’t believe his luck. And it had all happened so

quickly.

     He’d only come into town to check his bank account. He was in a

desperate situation financially. His landlord was demanding three months

rent, unfairly Jimmy thought. He only owed five months. He had no food

at all in the flat, he hadn’t eaten since yesterday’s breakfast, and even that

was only the last remaining crumbs in his cornflake pack. His stomach

was constantly grumbling, and his bike was on its last legs.

     And here it was all happening. Armed Police everywhere, the bank

cordoned off with yellow tape and a crowd of people gathered on the side

walk to watch. It was luck that had made Jimmy turn his bike around

and face it homeward. He intended to just go back home, but curiosity got

the better of him and he stepped up to the Police cordon, but away from

the crowd.

     There was a guy with a megaphone calling for the robbers to give

themselves up, telling them they were surrounded by armed Police and

there was no way out. It had been going on for a while when Jimmy

arrived. He didn’t know if they had hostages, or if they were armed or

anything. But the robbers were already on the point of giving themselves

up as Jimmy stood up to the cordon.

     Two masked men came out with their hands high above their heads

and were told to lay face down on the ground. A third one came running

out moments later clutching a bulky bag in each hand. He had seemed

totally oblivious to the police presence; saw nothing of the two men laid

prostrate on the ground in front of the door, tripped over the first one

letting the two bags go flying through the air as he fell headlong down the

bank steps.

     One of the bags flew high and across at the Police, causing them to

duck to avoid being struck. The other landed squarely at Jimmy’s feet. He

didn’t even glance around to see if anyone was looking, but just assumed

everyone’s attention would be on the robbers and the Police. And anyway,

he hadn’t taken his helmet off, so he couldn’t be identified that way.

     As he tore away down the main street he wondered just how much

money was in the bag, and how much he would have left once he’d paid

his debts and bought a new bike. Wow, a new bike. Had his luck finally

changed?

     With just thirty yards to go to his turn his questions were partly

answered by the sound of sirens suddenly bursting into his thoughts back

up the road, and ahead of him in the distance, he could see flashing blue

lights heading his way. Risking a quick glance behind, he saw three cars

racing down the road as the traffic swerved to the sides to let them

through.

     Only twenty yards left. He was sure he could make it. Turning the

accelerator round to full he surged forward but then the bike spluttered

and choked as he changed up a gear and let out the clutch again. Easing

back the throttle it kicked forward again and kept going, he was going to

make it. The sirens were louder and he could almost feel the heat of their

engines on his legs.

     At last the turn! It was only a walkway, with two concrete bollards in

the way but his bike fit through easily. He knew if he could make it

through, they couldn’t follow him. It led onto the Westmorland estate and

it was a twenty mile drive around by car.

     As the first Police car sped past he spun his bike off the road and in

towards the bollards. He missed his footing on the edge of the curb and

the back wheel of the bike hit the bollard and yet he managed not to fall

off. The second and third cars flew past, none of them even slowing, and

he turned to see one of the bank robbers sat in the back of each car along

with a Police officer to either side of them. He felt his heart skip as he

realised they weren’t chasing him and turned smiling to go on his way.

     In that one split second, the back wheel of his bike bounced off the

bollard and across to the other bollard, throwing Jimmy sideways. The

bike stalled as it rocked over. Jimmy fell off and the bag flew forward,

bursting open as it landed at the feet of two very tall Policemen.

     “You really must keep your mind on what you’re doing Jimmy,” the

first one said as he bent and stuffed some very plain looking clothes back

into the bag. “Never mind what’s going on behind you. Bikes are

dangerous things you know.”

     He handed the bag back as Jimmy picked himself up and dusted

himself down.

     “You’re very lucky it was us coming down here just then Jimmy.

Anyone else and you could have been in real big trouble.”

It was a very deflated Jimmy that took hold of the bag and thanked his

two best friends before pushing his bike home.

© Copyright Notice

To copy any part of this publication for distribution or resale, without the

written permission of Kelli publishing, is an offence under copyright law.

Any individual or company in breach of this copyright legislation will be

prosecuted to the full extent of the law.