Chapter 1
1818 Words
The sun was a blazing disk nearly halfway to its zenith, sending out waves of light that glinted off of every window. Huge buildings rose up to tickle the clear blue sky, tall spires of tinted glass and concrete.
Ottawa was a bustling city at any time of day, but 10 a.m. – that joyful hour when people had finally settled into their workday routine – was a little calmer than rush hour but still annoyingly busy. With all the traffic on the packed city streets, no one noticed as an old Honda Fit pulled into a parking lot and rumbled to a stop.
Pressing his back into the driver"s seat, Jack Hunter closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Oh, happy day…” He reached up with both hands to massage his temples. “I just love operating on five hours" sleep.”
A quick once-over in the rear-view mirror confirmed his unkempt appearance. His thin angular face was marked by high cheekbones and bright blue eyes, his dark hair cut short with messy bangs crossing over his forehead. “Well, if they wanted me to look nice, they probably shouldn"t have called me right after a late shift.”
He got out of his car.
Jack wore a pair of blue jeans and a gray t-shirt with a V-neck, its fabric clinging to his back from sweat. Oh, I love the late shift… He wiped sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. There"s nothing like going against your very genetic makeup to make you feel more like a man.
Oh, I love the late shift…There"s nothing like going against your very genetic makeup to make you feel more like a man.The parking lot was a flat sheet of black asphalt baking under the fierce sunlight of a warm spring day. His view of the river – and the Parliament Buildings along its bank – was obscured by tall concrete spires in every direction, and the noise was enough to make him groan. For the fifteenth time since crawling out of bed, Jack noted that human beings had a way of building stress factories for themselves.
He spotted a beat-up old hot-dog cart on the street corner. The thing was dented in several places, the yellow tarp that formed a makeshift rooftop ripped and torn, but Jack knew the proprietor.
Approaching with hands clasped behind his back, Jack closed his eyes and bowed his head to the man. “Hey, Tony,” he said with a shrug, “you think you can scrounge up one of those Italian sausages?”
The man behind the cart flashed a grin.
A wiry-looking guy with copper skin and a crop of silver hair on his head, Tony let out a chuckle. “At ten in the morning?” he said, eyebrows rising. “Kid, you"re gonna give yourself a heart attack if you keep this up.”
Pressing a fist to his mouth, Jack winced and let out a sputtering cough. “You"re the one who sells them,” he informed the other man. “I"m just the loyal customer who puts your kids through college.”
“Isn"t that the truth?” Tony looked down to watch the grill. Smoke wafted up to caress his face, but somehow the man ignored it. “Did you hear the latest story on the news?”
“You mean the one about the cops trying to Sherlock what happened down at the Penworth building?” A wolfish grin bloomed on Jack"s face. Squeezing his eyes shut, he barked a laugh. “Yeah, I saw it. Including the part where they interview some guy who claims he saw a big orange laser.”
“People will believe anything.”
Tony grabbed a well-cooked sausage with the tongs, then dropped it into a bun. He thrust a hand out, offering it to Jack. “Happy breakfast, my friend,” he went on. “I think you"re gonna need it.”
Chewing on his lip, Jack shut his eyes and tried to ignore the surge of heat in his face. “Don"t remind me,” he said, shaking his head. “I"d prefer to avoid the thought of rejection for as long as possible.”
For the last three months, he had been meeting with an Admissions Official for the University of Ottawa, and each visit to Miss Grimes"s office began with a stop at Tony"s hot-dog cart. For the last three months, he had been searching for some loophole that would allow him to enter the university"s Computer Science program despite his abysmal performance in high school. As time went on, it became less and less likely that his efforts were going to pan out.
Academics had always been a source of boredom and frustration for Jack; none of his classes throughout high school had been very challenging. So, at the age of fourteen, he had simply stopped paying attention. A bone-headed maneuver – he realized that now – but try talking sense to a fourteen-year-old. Lord knows, his father had tried.
A year working at menial jobs that came without a bachelor"s degree had done wonders for his outlook on life. “Thanks for breakfast, Tony,” Jack mumbled. “They say a little protein goes a long way.”
He reached into his blue jeans" pocket, pulling out a ten-dollar bill with two fingers and stuffing the money into Tony"s tip jar when the man wasn"t looking. Jack had a pretty good memory and he recalled the other man mentioning a teenage daughter. She deserved to go to college as much as he did.
Maybe more so.
“Maybe you should dress up a little,” Tony said with a wry grin, a touch of colour flaring in his cheeks. “Make a good impression.”
“Zoot-suit,” Jack teased. “White jacket with sideburns five inches long.”
The cramped little office that Miss Grimes used to meet with prospective students was sparsely decorated. A wooden desk with chips in its finish sat in the exact centre of the white-tiled floor, bathed in the segmented light that came in through the blinds on the window along the back wall.
Miss Grimes looked up when Jack came in. Her face was a perfect oval of creamy skin, framed by auburn curls that spilled over her shoulders. “Ah, good, you"ve made it,” she muttered. “Have a seat.”
Jack strode into the room.
He sat down across from her in an old metal chair, with his hands folded in his lap, trying hard to keep his face smooth. “Tell me you have good news,” he said at last. “I"ve been living in Suspenseville all morning.”
Hunching over, Miss Grimes planted her elbows on the desk, then rested her chin on laced fingers. “I"m sorry, Jack,” she replied, “I"ve gone over the admissions guidelines and there"s nothing that applies to your case.”
Her reply hit him like a punch to the abdomen, driving the wind from his lungs. So. There went his chances of getting away from this menial existence. “You know, for future reference,” he said, “this is really the kind of conversation that we can have by telephone. Hell, text messages would be okay.”
The woman wore a serious expression as she studied him, her eyes trying to bore a hole in his skull. “This is no time for jokes,” she said. “I admit that your test scores are nothing short of excellent, but that doesn"t change the fact that your grades are poor.”
He blushed.
“I would love to help you, Jack,” she went on in tones that were more than a little patronizing. Though, Jack had to admit that he was hardly an unbiased judge of character at the moment. “But when an admissions officer looks at transcripts like yours, the very first thing he sees is laziness.”
The standard replies about not judging a kid by mistakes that he made when he was fourteen came to mind, but when Jack considered them, they rang hollow in his ears. “But there has to be a method for appeals,” he offered. “Some way to reverse a mistake that I made when I was too young to know better.”
“Why should a school take you? Honestly now.”
Tilting his head to one side, Jack flashed a wry grin. “Well, you could start with my Zoosk profile,” he said, eyebrows rising. “My page gets over twenty visitors per day, and I have some great head shots.”
“Another joke.”
“Well, to be perfectly honest with you, most of them are just the same shot of me against different Photoshopped backgrounds.” He barked a laugh that sounded bitter in his ears. “But "Jack goes to Mount Rushmore" got fourteen likes on Facebook.”
“Enough!”
Miss Grimes leaned back in her chair, folding arms over her chest. She held his gaze. “I"ve had enough,” she said. “If you refuse to take this seriously, I cannot help you.”
He stared into his lap for a long moment, wetting his lips and trying to hold back the tears in his eyes. “I"m sorry.” He rubbed his nose with the back of his hand. “I"ll be on my way.”
“Jack.”
When he looked up, Miss Grimes wore a sympathetic expression. “You could try taking some community college courses. It will be difficult since high school students are given priority over those with community college backgrounds, but you could try.”
“It"s good advice, ma"am,” Jack replied. “I"ll take it under consideration.” And with that, there was nothing left to say, so he left the office with a heavy heart and a sense of guilt that gnawed at his insides. He shouldn"t have been so flippant with the woman; she was only trying to help.
No, Jack Hunter had gotten himself into this mess – him and nobody else – and it was his burden to bear now. His and no one else"s. How exactly was he supposed to tell his sister about this latest setback?
The hallway on the seventh floor stretched on to a stairwell in the corner, its white-tiled floor dingy and scuffed in many places. Fluorescent lights flickered in the ceiling, giving off a soft hum.
Leaning against the wall, Jack folded his arms. He tilted his head back, squinting at the ceiling. “You"ve done it now, boyo,” he muttered to himself. “Despite all odds, you"ve found yet another way to piss off your betters.”
anotherHeaven help him.
- Writer
