Tiny Tim

“But ... wasn’t that, like, some army thing everybody learns now?”

“Yeah, once upon a time it was that legendary martial art the IDF teaches.” he explained with much sarcasm in his voice. “But ever since it got popular in Los Angeles, it’s more of a means to slim your waistline using a punching bag. In the end, all popular and widely known martial arts you can learn in schools or dojos are either meant for competitions, against a single opponent and judged by a guy who makes sure everybody abides by the rules, or are simply a collection of made up scenarios you can’t apply to the real world. The drunks at a bar always come with friends as backup, burglars in Texas are most likely carrying, and the desperate ones will use whatever they can to take you down. Martial Art styles will give you some degree of confidence in a real fight, but that’s it.”

“Sooo ... what are you training then?”

“Our own little style. Call it MMA if you must put a name to it, but it’s simply a mixture of whatever we all learned works best in the field. What we train in these sessions is meant to teach you how to take an attacker down as quickly and effectively as possible, so by the time their buddies try to help him out by jumping you from behind, you’re already done with him and ready for the next one.”

“Nice!” I commented. This sounded awesome. Bill, however, made quick work of my enthusiasm.

“Now keep in mind, this is going to be very different from what you’ve seen in ‘Cobra Kai’ or some other shitty show. We don’t really concern ourselves with the future health of someone who tries to kill us. If you break his arm and rip his tendons, tough shit for him, but he’ll sure as hell won’t use that arm to pick his knife back up and try again. BUT! We train this for self defense. So, if you use any of this on someone who’s not ACTIVELY attacking you, it’ll no longer pertain to self defense. It’ll get you thrown in jail, and we will not bail you out for that. So, we’ll also include some lessons in discipline.”

After this little speech that left me in a mixture of excitement and downright fear, he introduced me to the other participants and assigned me a partner. From then on, for 90 minutes per session, five days a week, I learned how to defend myself. On three days a week we spent an additional hour lifting weights.

I’m not going to lie, it was fucking hard! Even though the training started out easy, teaching me how to stand properly and then how to apply and get out of choke- and handholds, I was in constant muscle pain for the first two weeks. It felt like the lactic acid buildup in my muscles would never go away. By the time we moved on to A LOT of grappling, and finally all the way to ‘disabling’ armed or unarmed attackers, I had thankfully gotten used to the daily exercises.

Granted, there weren’t that many people coming after me with knives and guns in school, and there wasn’t much in those training sessions I could reasonably use against untrained bullies without being arrested (“Or worse, expelled!”), but it gave me confidence. I could now look my attackers in the eyes and actually see what they were trying to do, instead of cowering away and be taken by surprise with every single punch. And as long as I could see it, I could defend against it. At least that was what Bill kept telling me.

My favorite part about the training, however, was Tess. She worked in accounting and claimed to only train with the guys because she wouldn’t have to pay for a gym membership that way. Twenty-eight years old, 5’4’’ tall, and always holding her long raven hair in a ponytail. I thoroughly enjoyed having her as a sparring partner when we had to get handsy, because she seemed to enjoy herself with me as well. At least that was the impression I got from the genuine smile she gave me while we were going through the different holds. Despite what I hoped, with me being fifteen and all, I didn’t seriously expect to get anywhere with a woman thirteen years older than me. But I did look forward to each time we met, either during training or in the coffee kitchen, talking.

After roughly nine weeks of daily training, I was ultimately forced to use in school what I had learned in the Company. During break time on an unusually lousy Monday in April, I was on my way to my locker to switch books, when I had to walk past Jack Miller, one of my chief-tormentors and best buddies with Logan. He and one of his bully-buddies were making the moves on a petite freshman girl with ash-brown hair whom I only knew by looks. At least I’m pretty sure they thought they were flirting. The girl’s face and comments showed that she had a distinctly different opinion on that, and would rather be left alone. I hadn’t even decided if I wanted to interfere or not, when Jack noticed me standing there, watching them.

“What you looking at, Tiny Tim?” he mocked me.

I noticed at that moment that Bill was right. Those guys were big and bulky football players, but they were in no way comparable to the men I had been training with for months. I wasn’t even nervous about what he and his friend might try. They must have noticed my attitude and decided that I should receive a reminder of why I once feared them. Jack walked over to me, grabbed my collar with his right hand and forcefully pushed me into the lockers.

“I asked, what you looking at!?” he snarled.

I placed my left hand on the one holding my collar, and, for the moment, just looked at him and my surroundings. Like usual, there were quite a few people stopping when passing us, but nobody cared to do anything. When I still didn’t answer, he started raising his other arm, pulling back his fist. He took so long, I think he simply didn’t expect me to do anything about it anyway. Or he wanted to enjoy the fear he usually saw in my eyes when they advertised the pain I could expect. But not this time.

Quickly, I grabbed the thumb of the hand holding my shirt and pulled and overturned it outwards. This caused him to first lose his grip, and then follow with his torso in the direction I was bending his hand, exposing the entire left side of his neck to me. As I was bending his hand, I quickly raised my right arm to face level, and then slammed my elbow down on his jaw before he could think about what was happening. His head violently jerked clockwise before he fell to the ground like someone cut the strings of a puppet.

When his bully-buddy saw that, he moved in on me. Scowling at me with his torso low, ready to charge like I was an opposing player on the football field he wanted to tackle. When I saw that, I took a quick step to the side away from him, so he had to step over Jack and couldn’t run full force at me. As he did, he looked at his feet for just a split second, to make sure he wouldn’t step on Jack, and I used that moment to attack.

I stopped his advance with a quick and light left jab to his face, throwing him off long enough for me to instantly follow up with a strong right hook to his liver. His body basically shut down and he went down on his knees. Then, my left knee found its way into his face. He fell backwards on top of Jack and just groaned in pain, not moving much. His nose and mouth were a bloody mess. I reached down, grabbed Jack’s arm, and pulled him out from under his friend and onto his left side, like we did at the training session whenever a chokehold was held too long and someone passed out. Then I looked around.

The hallway was filled with gasping faces staring at me, and one of those faces was Logan’s. That fucker looked disappointed at his buddies! My heart was going at roughly 300 beats per minute, but I needed them to think I was unimpressed and ready for whatever they might try next. I wanted them to think I could take them all if they forced me to. I needed them to know, I was no longer their punching bag. And it worked!

The whole confrontation was over quickly. From the moment Jack raised his fist at me, maybe twenty seconds had passed, and yet, two incapacitated football jocks were lying on the ground. It was also brutal and merciless, way above the level of fights any of my fellow students were used to. But most important of all, it was super effective!

Logan and a few other guys looked at the two lying on the floor, unconscious and incapacitated. They clearly wanted to get to them, but Logan’s eyes kept flicking between the two sleeping beauties and me. They were afraid to come near me! I took a closer look at the people surrounding us and saw more than one of my bullies just standing there unmoving.

I didn’t get to relish in my accomplishment, though, since the next thing I knew, Coach Jenkins grabbed me by the arm and all but threw me across the hallway towards the principal’s office. The entire way he was raising hell about me attacking other students and threatening expulsion. When he dragged me in front of the principal’s desk, we noticed that the freshman girl had been following us the entire time.

“What are you doing here?” he asked her, still angry.

“Ah, Sir, he wasn’t attacking nobody! Jack and his friend wouldn’t leave me alone, even after I told them to. When he...” she said, now pointing at me “ ... just walked by and looked at them. Then Jack suddenly grabbed him, pushed him into the lockers and tried to punch him. He was just defending himself!”

This had quickly turned into a quite uncomfortable situation for the school, and it showed on their faces. Not just Coach Jenkin’s, but also the principal’s. Making unwanted advances at a girl, in this day and age?

“That still doesn’t warrant violence! And especially not at THAT level!” the principal commented heatedly. “I’m afraid I will have to call the authorities over this assault, Mr. Brown.”.

“Assault. Is that so.” I said “Tell me, how many times have I been in here, after one of his assholes used me as a punching bag?” I asked, pointing at Coach Jenkins. “And how many times did ANY of you do shit about that!? I TRIED to get help from you and the teachers, but NONE of you could be bothered to do something. But now that I was FORCED to defend myself, NOW he starts threatening me with expulsion and the police!?”

“We told you before, Mr. Brown, there wasn’t much we could do. They always had witnesses placing them somewhere else.”

“And I told you before that I didn’t beat myself up! There would’ve been other things you could’ve done when the complaints about your valued team members piled up. But you didn’t. And now, when those guys get hurt themselves while trying to assault someone else, the victim gets threatened. I’m sure there will be a few people highly interested in that! First of all, my family’s lawyer. So, go ahead, call the police. There is more than enough proof of what’s been going on over the past eight months in my health records. And I’d be surprised if you could point to ANYTHING you did to stop it.”

I tried to keep my voice leveled and steady, though it was hard. This was months of frustration finally breaking loose, and it took everything I had not to lose it completely. Finally the principal and Coach Jenkins exchanged glances and seemed to wordlessly agree on the needed procedure.

They called the counselor and had her take the girl to a different room. Then the principal had me write down my “version of the events”. When the counselor came back ten minutes later, she was holding a paper that looked suspiciously like they gave the girl the exact same assignment. The principal quickly went over both statements, though his mood was not improving. Quite the opposite, in fact.

“Damn it ... wait here!” I heard him mumble, before he got up and left me alone in the room.

About five minutes in, my phone started buzzing and I was elated when I saw what I had just received. This day couldn’t get any better! Craig, one of my last remaining ‘friends’, if I could still call anyone that, had started filming the whole thing as soon as he had noticed that the girl was not too receptive to Jack’s advances. It showed everything! I could now watch myself knock out Jack and his friend, and relive that beautiful moment, as many times as I wanted. But most important of all, if the principal chose to screw me over, I had solid proof!

Just to be on the safe side, I quickly created a new YouTube account, made sure the password was not saved in my phone, and uploaded the video to it. This way, it was definitely backed up in a way they could not get to, even if they took my phone from me, and I could easily share it if needed. Another twenty minutes later, the principal returned and sat back behind his desk. He fixed me with a look, still seeming anything but happy.

“Well, Mr. Brown, I just checked the security tape. It does indeed show that you didn’t initiate the fight, but instead reacted to threatening behavior from another student. It still doesn’t...”

“Threatening behavior!?” I interrupted, clearly irritated. “Are you saying the tape didn’t show Jack physically assaulting me when I just stood there? Pushing me into the lockers? Holding me by the collar, while raising his fist? Are you claiming, based on what you saw on the tape AND what you read in the witness’s statement, I didn’t have every reason to fear for my safety?”

The way the principal’s eyes narrowed told me that I had said the right thing. I had been left alone with my thoughts in this room for long enough to anticipate this. Working in a security company has quite a few benefits. One of those was hearing all the stories the guys at the firm told me. They are regularly threatened with legal actions whenever a drunkard they threw out of an event felt humiliated, or a spouse that got caught fucking around on our surveillance cameras felt like they were installed unlawfully. These people would make up the most fantastical tales of misconduct and excessive violence to somehow discredit us. So, as soon as the principal started talking like a cheap lawyer, I knew he would try to spin this any way he could to discredit me.

But I also knew I had the advantage, since I was holding all the proof. After two different beatings, I had been forced to see a doctor, and in both cases he noted all the “defensive wounds” I had. Quite telling abrasions, cuts and bruises I got while trying to shield myself. And as I just pointed out to the principal, even if the surveillance tape somehow went missing, I still had a witness.

The principal watched me for a few seconds before he took a deep breath and continued.

“What I wanted to say, Mr. Brown, is that I acknowledge you felt the need to defend yourself. Albeit you did so excessively. So, we will not expel you. Instead, you, as well as the other two boys, will receive a three-day suspension. I will notify your parents of what happened here today. Please accompany Coach Jenkins here off the school grounds to make sure there aren’t any more incidents today.”

And just as if on cue, Coach Jenkins entered the room and walked me out. I stopped by the door to get one last point across, though.

“You know, it’s interesting how the school suddenly has a surveillance system you could check. Makes one wonder, what happened to your need to call the police over this incident? After all, someone still got assaulted. Don’t tell me the police aren’t necessary any longer, now that the victim turned out to be someone other than one of your players?”

“Don’t overdo it, Mr. Brown.” he glared at me. “I might not see the need to call the police on you, but those boys’ parents just might!”

“In that case, let me remind you that we live in the age of smartphones. The whole show is already on YouTube. I suggest you keep that in mind when you talk to their parents to explain exactly what happened.” I deadpanned, and let Coach Jenkins lead me off school grounds.

I couldn’t have given any less of a shit about his threat. I achieved what I wanted to and had the proof that I merely defended myself. That was a good day.

Chapter 2

I just walked out of the kitchen with my freshly microwaved burrito, when I heard the front door open. It had been three hours since I was suspended, and it was time for Logan and Ava to arrive home. The entire afternoon I was unable to take my mind off the fight, but especially the confrontation with the principal that followed. What I told him was absolutely true. I really did ask the school staff for help, especially when the thefts started, but they never even did so much as hang Anti-Bullying posters in the hallways. The fact I now even had to threaten them with a lawyer after I was forced to defend myself, had kept me angry the entire time. So, when Logan and Ava stepped out of the hallway and into the living room, my mood was already pretty dark, and Ava must have noticed. She stopped dead in her tracks upon seeing me. Logan, however, came right at me.

“Great work, asshole! You proud...”

That was as far as he came before I threw my plate against the wall ten feet next to him, shattering it into a thousand pieces. Ava let out a shrill shriek and made a quick beeline to the stairs. Logan looked surprised about my outburst. He didn’t seem to have expected me to do anything but cower before him. But then again, his buddies didn’t expect me to hit back either. He had four inches in height on me, but I still got right in his face, causing him to slowly walk backwards, as I launched my tirade at him.

“Shut the fuck up, Golden Boy. I’ve fucking had it. Your friends have been beating on me for MONTHS! And you stood right next to them and WATCHED with a SMILE! I’m fucking done taking your shit! You’ve seen it today. You know what I’m capable of now. So go ahead and piss me off, motherfucker!” That last word I basically spat at him with all the loathing I could express, hinting at what I knew. “See how it works out for you.”

He visibly paled and took a few quick steps back from me. This was obviously not what he thought was going to happen. I wasn’t just seething, I was actually hoping he would try something so I could rip him apart. My fists were balled, my nails digging painfully into my palms, and my body was literally shaking in anger. The amount of pure hate that suddenly exploded inside me scared even myself. But he was there in the school’s hallway. He saw the violence. He knew what could happen if he pushed me over the edge again.

To my great pleasure, he turned and walked away without saying another word. My eyes followed him until Ava entered my field of vision, who was still standing at the bottom of the stairs. I was equally pleased to see the fright on her face before Logan reached her, grabbed her by the arm, and pulled her up the stairs. When they were out of sight, I went back to the kitchen to get something to clean up my mess, and moaned about the loss of my afternoon snack.

About two hours later, I heard a knock on my door. When I opened it, I found myself face to face with Ava. By now I had calmed down significantly and just stared at her with a bored expression. She looked at me, opened her mouth to say something, but then seemed like she was taken aback. Her mouth slowly closing again, her eyes started wandering around my room, and a look I couldn’t place crept onto her face. Like she was irritated. Or nervous. Or, maybe, almost like she was concerned. I looked around myself but couldn’t see anything unsettling. Wasn’t much left, to be honest. Over the past year, my room had lost most of its personal touch.

I had my wardrobe, desk with chair, and twin-sized bed. I guess, since they never planned on sharing my bed with me, there was no need to get me a bigger one, like they did for their other children. Other than that, there were only my fridge and two shelf boards with my fantasy novels left.

The pictures that previously stood in those shelves had moved into a drawer, when the friends they showed distanced themselves from me. The posters and small rubbish went to the trash, when I lost interest in most of my hobbies. Now, the most prominent item in the room was my desk, which held my computer and all of my paperwork, like the invoices I wrote and the tax-crap I couldn’t figure out. It looked more like an office that someone had put a guest bed in. So, not seeing what Ava’s problem could be, I looked back at her and waited for her to gather her thoughts.

“What?” I asked impatiently, when she still couldn’t get a hold of herself after a minute.

“I was just ... I’m...” she stuttered but stopped again.

“ ... a bitch. I know, Princess. But do me a favor and stop wasting my time. Some people have stuff to do that doesn’t involve you.”

Now she looked hurt. The bitch looked hurt! After all the rumors she spread, all the badmouthing she subjected me to, all the insults she threw in my face whenever she found an opportunity to, she got hurt by that.

“Don’t call me a bitch, Tiny Tim! Don’t dump your frustration on me, it’s not my fault you can’t attract any girls.”

“Actually, it is. You were the one who started spreading those fucking rumors around school. You were also the one who roped the other fucking cheerleaders into making fun of me and started this shit I’m buried in!”

“I didn’t...” for just a second, she looked rattled, but she quickly caught herself. “They’re not rumors if they’re true!”

“Sure, Princess, tell yourself that. Now do yourself a favor and fuck off, before my ‘frustrations’ make me do something you’d surely regret.”

And with that, I slammed the door in her face.

Did that bitch seriously believe I still had a small dick!? Yes, back then the thing was barely three inches long. Probably even less if I’m being honest. Turns out, though, as a boy grows up, so does his dick! And the damn thing grows rather rapidly until a boy reaches sixteen years of age. It even keeps growing after he reaches sixteen, if only marginally, until the age of eighteen to twenty. Trust me, I read up on it every time my family had caused my insecurities to be off the charts again. So, I read about it a lot.

Now, I’ll never be a porn star with one of those eight-inch bats between their legs, but my penis should be absolutely adequate for sex, and thick enough to certainly be felt by a woman! After all, I can’t even stick my index finger into my mouth without gagging, which is merely three inches long. So, I figure there should be fun times ahead of me. If only those rumors Ava spread, and the bullying Logan encouraged, hadn’t effectively killed any chance I ever had to test that theory with any female my age.

Apart from that little clash with Golden Boy and the Princess, my suspension was highly uneventful and went largely unnoticed by my older cohabitors. I knew that Aaron and Claire were informed of my suspension the moment they set foot into the house. And I was willing to bet Logan talked to them about my outburst, trying to get me punished, but neither one of my parents bothered to come to my room. That was fine with me ... although, despite what I kept telling myself, somewhere in the back of my head, I was still holding up that small sliver of hope that at least one of them would start acting like a parent.

When I became the IT-Guy in a security firm, I thought it would be wise to expand my horizon and start looking into IT-Security. One of the very first things I learned was how to place a hidden tracker on phones. And yes, I did that with all of their phones, simply to test it out. A quick check revealed why nobody bothered to talk with me about what happened. They were at Uncle John’s house, undoubtedly having more orgies over there, like they did regularly since Ava’s sweet sixteen. They had more important things to do than to check in with me. At least Uncle John and Aunt Danielle could fill them in. Those two had seen me quite a few times during the training sessions, when they came in to meet up with Bill. Maybe they should have warned Golden Boy of what he had coming.

Although nobody dared lay a hand on me in school anymore, a couple of them did try outside of school a few times over the following months. Luckily, it ended much the same way as the first confrontation. The last attempt happened right after the football season started, and, after word got around exactly why the poor guys would have to sit out the first few games, I found myself being actually left alone. The verbal attacks kept coming, but I was long past giving a shit about those. As long as they would stop trying to physically assault me, this was progress.

I showed the guys at work the video of the fight, and was complimented for a job well done. They especially appreciated the part where I showed enough self control to put Jack into the recovery position, though Bill was not too happy about the part where I knee’d the guy in the face. Their opinion mattered more to me than the family’s.

I had used my suspension time to get my Learner’s Permit. With that, I went to register for the driver’s ed course in school as soon as I was allowed back in, but ran into a problem. The teacher for that class was Coach Jenkins, and, since I had put a number of his players off the field, he simply refused to get into a car with me. I was stuck without that course. I could hardly ask Aaron or Claire to give me lessons.

I bided my time over the next few months, though I held up my familial obligations. While I liked to claim it was solely to avoid yet another confrontation like on Ava’s birthday, I admit that it was actually my last desperate attempt to make the family acknowledge me.

When Mother’s Day came around in May, I got flowers, wrote a card, and left both on the kitchen table for Claire to find when she woke up in the morning. I found the card crumbled up together with the gift wrapping from her presents in the trash, so I wasn’t surprised when Claire never said anything about it. Since Logan could suck a dick for all I cared, my next attempt was Aaron’s birthday, which fell on Father’s Day that year. Knowing his obsession with football, I got him a wallet made from actual NFL uniforms worn by famous players. It cost me 280 dollars, but while I saw him use the damn thing, he never thanked me for it. And in August, when Claire’s birthday came around, I got her a Nest Egg Necklace made of sterling silver from an artist in California, with three “eggs” in the pendant representing her three children. I never learned if it had the desired effect.

While Claire never addressed my gift and I never saw her wear it, over the next few weeks she did behave like she was gathering the courage to talk about something. At dinner on the very next day after her birthday, she kept fixing me with a look before taking a deep breath as if preparing for a long talk. Whenever she did, everyone was looking at her expectantly because it was so obvious she had something to say. It never came out, though. She just stopped, breathed out again, and took another bite of her food.

She kept throwing me concerned glances every few minutes, though. She also stopped by my bedroom on a few evenings, but the result was just the same as when she tried at the dinner table. When I finally lost my patience one Saturday morning and asked what she wanted in an irritated voice, she, again, simply excused herself and walked away. She never tried again after that.

I dove into work, mentally kicking myself for getting my hopes up in the first place. Even if the Nest Egg Necklace had worked, what would it have gotten me? I would have learned that I needed to buy their consideration. So, maybe it was even better that it didn’t lead to anything. When the guys at work asked me about my license though, since I’d turn sixteen only a few months later, I told them about Coach Jenkins. They once again helped me out. I had just come out of the shower after one of our training sessions, when Bill walked into the dressing room and handed me a set of car keys, saying “I’ll wait for you in the parking lot.”, before leaving without waiting for an answer.

He took me for an hour-long drive around the parking lot, patiently explaining all the buttons and levers in the car, giving me pointers on how to do what. Then, each day after the training, he would walk into the dressing room and hand a set of keys to whomever was still in there with me. That person would eagerly give me another hour-long lesson in driving. Once I had the required hours accumulated, Bill called me into the office as soon as I arrived.

“The two of us are doing something else today.” he proclaimed, and tossed me a different set of car keys, before leading me to one of the lightly armored SUVs the company used to chauffeur clients around.

When we sat in the car, he gave me directions to a specially prepared lot where he gave me a six-hour specialized driving safety course. We started at daylight and ended late at night. I needed one of those, since my driving lessons should either be parent-taught or an approved driver’s ed course. Apparently he’s certified to give those. Holding the completion certificate in hand, I now had everything I needed to take my final test at the DMV. Everything apart from a parent’s signature on the application. Realizing this, I felt a burst of sadness rush through me.

I know, it’s not the manliest thing to say, but, at that moment, I had a hard time keeping those feelings inside. Bill had given me a chance when I desperately needed a job. All the people in the company simply accepted me as one of their own, no questions asked. They helped me get in shape and taught me how to defend myself in school. And now they taught me how to drive, like it was the most normal thing to do for someone they barely knew. These people had shown me more favor and more compassion than my own family. Even more than that, actually. Whenever my family actively buried me under another mountain of shit, these people helped me get out of it.

I somehow managed to get Aaron to sign the application at the breakfast table, and made an appointment for my final driver’s test. However, it was encouraged to take that test with the car I was intending to actually drive afterwards, so I put that off for the moment until I got myself a car and had it insured. I still didn’t want to unnecessarily tip the family off, so I looked for something cheap. Suddenly, every single guy at work had an opinion on what was most important in a car. I just wanted something cheap ... and maybe fun. So, I decided to get myself a used 2003 Jeep Wrangler Convertible. It had already 186,699 miles on it, but cost me only $5,200 dollars and it still looked presentable.

That was only in case the parents asked questions, though. Off the record, I paid another $1,800 to have it detailed, put on a new set of tires, and fitted with a decent stereo (that I can connect with a phone via Bluetooth, instead of having to burn audio-CDs). Then I had it parked at the company lot and got Aaron to, once again, sign the insurance papers at the breakfast table. I was pretty sure he thought it was for the driver’s ed class in school. But the car’s title and insurance were in my name, and would be paid from my bank account. I just needed him to co-sign to get the process started.

The week before my sixteenth birthday, Bill called me into his office once again. He informed me that, for the following Saturday, he had booked a day-long First Aid/CPR/AED course with the Red Cross for me, and they would also check my eyesight. I had no idea why he would do that, but, since he was paying, I decided that it couldn’t hurt and just attended.

The day I turned sixteen went much like my suspension: Unnoticed by the cohabitants. I skipped my afternoon classes to get my license instead. When I left the DMV, I noticed two missed calls from my grandma, so I called her back.

“Hey, Gran. I missed your calls?” I greeted her, the elation from passing the test found its way into my voice.

“Well! It’s been a while since someone sounded THAT happy to talk to me?” she chuckled.

“Eh, not that I wouldn’t be happy to talk with you! But a little part of it may be related to passing my driver’s test just half an hour ago and finally having my license!”

“I’m so happy for you, Pumpkin! Isn’t that a nice gift! Happy Birthday!” She sounded genuinely pleased.

“Thank you, Granny! I’m glad to be done with that. So, how’re you and Gramps?”

“We’re fine. We’re already packing for Thanksgiving. I almost can’t wait.” She sounded somewhat conspiratorial. Like she was hinting at something she didn’t want to say over the phone.

“Oh? Where’s it going?” I asked, clearly confused. She paused for a moment before she answered.

“Eh? We’re flying in for Thanksgiving. Didn’t you know? Didn’t Claire and Aaron ... tell you?” she asked, uncertainty thick in her voice.

“No, I had no idea. Well ... actually I don’t even know where the Thanksgiving Dinner is supposed to be this year. Had a lot on my plate and Thanksgiving just ... wasn’t on my mind.”

“Oh.” she said in surprise. “They ... they didn’t tell you anything? Well ... But, we’ll see you when we arrive?”

“Sure, Granny. I still live there, after all. See you then.”

After the call, I made my way to the firm. The people at work had other ideas than my family, though. When I arrived at the office, Bill called me in and I finally learned why he had sent me to that course with the Red Cross. He presented me with an actual employment contract! It came with a fixed salary for a twenty-eight-hour week and even included health insurance. The salary was actually high enough so I could drop all my side projects! The health insurance was only included on a condition, though. I had to accompany some of the guys to actual jobs. That certainly wasn’t a problem for me, so I happily accepted.

By five PM, Tess showed up in what was now my own little corner office. Right next to the server in the basement. One of the guys even put a little painter’s tape on the door and wrote “IT-Department” with permanent marker on it, even including the quotation marks as a little joke.

“I hear you’re a full-fledged member of the working force now.” she commented with a little smile, as she sat on my desk.

“Yeah. I had completely forgotten why I was here as a freelancer until now. And I still never made the connection when the Boss sent me to that First Aid Course. Took me a little by surprise.”

“Well, you know, as a proper employee in this firm, you’ll need the proper appearance to go with. What if you run into a client? Or go out on a job with the others? You’d either have to go shopping, or seriously step up that savants look you’re rocking right now.”