“Honestly, it felt as though the entirety of my world had come crashing down around me. I could feel the splinters of glass raining over my skin and leaving lines of red flaring pain. How did I do this again? How COULD I do this again? I’m so dead.” The light from the overly large classroom suddenly becomes blinding as I try to focus my wavering eyes on my latest History examination. F triple minus. With this I know I’m doomed for the rest of the semester. I glance around the room and look at the faces of my peers. Some have the same expression as I do; Others are more morose. Grace Linking catches my eye and offers a soft smile. I tenderly smile back before lowering my head against the surface of my failure covered desk. The paper eases some of the coolness of the wood and I sigh.
“MR. OLVERA! If you are unsatisfied with your test score you have an option to make it up. Please try not to bash your brain in before school tomorrow. That being said, I’ll be notifying the parents of everyone with a C or lower. You are all dismissed.”
A collective groan arises from the class. Along with the rest of the zombies I gather up my possesions and I trudge out of the too bright room before the bell rings. At this school, it’s always best to be early for your next class. The teachers understand that and always release us ahead of schedule. I bump into Grace in the hallway and she offers me another smile. This time I manage to paint my face with a shit-eating grin. Her smile widens and she begins to talk.
“Hey, Oz. How’d you do on the test? I got an 85.” Her face is almost as bright as the classroom. It hurts my eyes a little and I look down before pulling my test out of my backpack and showing her.
“Ouch, that sucks. Maybe I should tutor you some time huh? Don’t worry I’ll take it easy on you Ozzy.” She smirks.
“Hey, I don’t need tutoring, Grace. You don’t need to save me from EVERY class. Besides, I’ll probably never see you again. After I get home my grandfather is going to erase ME from history. Thanks though, I’ll keep you in mind when I’m floating through limbo.”
“You’re so dramatic, Olvera. I’m sure it won’t be that bad.”
“Linking, if you only knew.”
“Well, Ozzy. If you need me, you know where to find me. Buh bye now.” She winks before spinning on her heel and walking off to her next class. Grace Linking. I’ve always had a crush on her. Since middle school. I don’t know what it is, but there’s something about her that I’m just drawn to. Maybe one day when I’m not a complete dumbass, she’d actually consider dating me. Until then however, I’m Mr. Lonely forever. I shuffle my feet to my last class of the day. I have 2 less classes than everyone else; A reward for past performance. I wonder what happened? Oh yeah puberty, girls, and drugs. Yes, drugs. I smoke pot. Lots and lots of pot. I know people call it the gateway drug but I don’t consider it a drug at all. It came from the earth and I like the earth. You know, because I live on it. I’m not stupid enought to bring paraphanelia to school though; I only smoke at home or out with the few friends I have.
Spanish, my last class of the day. Muy mal. I hate it. I live in America. Why do I have to learn Mexico? Alright I admit that might have been a bit racist. I’m sorry. I can’t help it though, it behooves me. I walk in with 3 of my classmates and take my seat at the back of the dingy classroom. Seriously, this has to be the least maintained and oldest classroom in the building. The walls are yellowed and half the desks are broken. Well, not broken but they sure as hell creak something awful. There’s only one window and the view isn’t even that great. I don’t get it. All of the other classrooms in the school are up to date and modern. Why not this one?
“Gooooodmorning class of mine!”
Mr Gonzales shouts at what has to be the top of his 68 year old lungs. The class and myself mutter a half hearted buenos dias, senor Gonzales. He starts with the usual spanish vocabulary words before launching into chapter 12 of the text book. I try to pay attention but I can only think of the shit storm I’ve got waiting on me at home. My seat is in the back but I swear Mr. G has it out for me. He calles on me three times throughout the class. I muddle through the answers to his questions and throw my hand down on the old desk and start to daydream.
I’m walking through old London at night. Fog is engulfing the city and it is strangely beautiful. I hear a scream followed by an erratic, “No please!” I run towards the scream while tugging my trench coat closer to my body. I turn into an alley and the fog clears quickly. Before me is a sight I’ll never forget. A woman who looks like she is in her twenties is laying on the cobblestones. Her blood pooled around her and a hatcchet buried in her skull.
“NO!” I shout as I come back to reality. The class is looking at me funny.
“Senor Olvera, is something the matter? Or are you just tired of sleeping in my class?”
The class laughs and I feel my face redden. What was that? I think to myself as the bell rings and the class begins to walk out.
“Oz, stay here for a minute. I need to speak with you.”
“Yes, Mr. G.” I grab my things and walk slowly to his desk. Geez even his desk is outdated. I put my bookbag on his desk and wait for him to start talking. He’s looking at me with a strange face. I can’t place it. He takes a deep breath. His white dress shirt looks like it’s about to pop open. Was he always this fat?
“Oz, are you alright? Is everything OK at home?” He asks, with a concerned expression.
“Yeah Mr. G. I’m fine. Why do you ask that?”
“Students don’t generally have nightmares in my class. When they get home, maybe; but not in the middle of my class.” He says before sitting down and taking a sip of what I think is coffee.
“Mr. G. I’m sorry. Yes, everything is fine at home. I bombed my history test earlier and I know I’m going to die when I get home. But I’m not being abused sir. My family is actually quite happy.”
“I’m relived to hear that, Oz. If you ever need help. Let me know. You’re a smart kid and a fun student.” He smiles and motions me out. I nod and offer a small half-smile before departing the classroom. The halls are empty. Everyone is already in their next class. The lockers in this school are standard. Green combo style metal cells. I walk to my locker and put in my combination. 14-37-60. It clanks and I open it and shove my book bag inside before grabbing my failure and closing the green beast.
My car is an old yellow camaro. Dad’s gift when I turned 16. I love it. I know everyone else calls their yellow Camaros Bumblebee, but my girl Annie never lets me down. I named her Annie after my favorite character from one of my favorite video games. League of Legends. I’m not too good at the game but it’s really fun and I enjoy playing with people from all around the U.S. She rumbles to life and I grin. 0-100 in seconds. The best part of dad’s gift is her engine. I’m a speedster. I can’t help it. The power it draws my foot down harder and harder until my breaks scream when I hit a red light.
Traffic is great and I make it home in 10 minutes. The song Get Out Alive by Three Days Grace comes on just as I park on the street. Coincendence? I think not. I sigh, get out and clutch my exam close to my chest as I close the driver door and mentally prepare for this. I know he got the call. He ALWAYS gets the call. I walk up to the door and it opens before I take out my house key. My grandfather, Marco Olvera is standing there. He smiles, he fucking smiles and ushers me in. I hold my head down and walk in. I hear the door close and I turn around and it begins.
“Goddamnit Oz! How are you having this much trouble in History? Your father has his doctorate in Historical Studies. Your mother teaches History. Maybe you need to go to her school, yes? Give me the paper.” He commands. I hand it to him and he sighs.
“Come with me.” He says, before turning and walking towards our basement door.
“Yes, grandfather.” I mumble as I follow him. My feet dragging and feeling heavier with each step. He opens the door and walks down the 6 stairs into our finished basement. Oh, I forgot to mention. Our house is fucking huge. So fucking huge. My grandfather is rich as shit and no one knows what he does. We walk over to the big red couch and sit down. A cup of coffee is already sitting on the coffee table, steaming. I pick it up and sip. Ugh, black. He begins to speak.
“Oz, I am a correctional officer.” He says before sipping his own coffee. I bet his isn’t black.
“A correctional officer? Gramps I’m pretty sure they don’t make enough money to fund this huge ass house. I’ve wanted to know what you do forever. What do you really do? It has to be something with History, you know so much. More than dad.” My voice lowers as I mention my dad. It’s been 3 years and I haven’t seen him.
“No, Oz. I don’t work in prisons. I correct time.” He takes another sip. “Listen, our family is special. We have a purpose. There are organizations that work to change the past for their benefits. We are the barrier that prevents this. Our family has been thwarting these organizations for millenia.”
“Grandfather..what..what are you talking about? You sound crazy. Look I know I messed up again. I’m sorry, it won’t happen again. I promise. If this story is some way of manipulating me, you don’t have to do it. I’ll do better, gramps. I will.” I smile at him. He doesn’t smile back and mine fades.
He groans and claps his hands loudly together. The lights go off and a light beams from the watch on his wrist. A glowing clock comes into view, it emanates from the watch. I can only stare. It’s bright. Too bright. The look on my grandfather’s face scares me a bit. It’s almost cold and unfeeling.
“Oz Austram Olvera, I Marco Alverious Olvera hereby induct you into The Family Your first mission. Protect Jack the Ripper from Fringe at all costs.” He breaks his sombrerity and smiles softly. “Good luck, Austram.”
Before I can even mutter a response to aall of this it feels like my body is ripped apart and my sense go nill. Suddenly, I’m standing in the middle of a foggy street. My clothes have changed. A trench-coat. Old style trousers and leather shoes. There’s a gun on my hip and my grandfather’s watch is now on my wrist. Confused and a bit dazed I start to walk. This place is foggy. To the extreme. I can barely see ANYTHING. there’s no one outside and the moon is bright. Too bright. As I walk…I hear a scream.

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