The Geek Revolution ✓

01 | prankster

"WHY ARE YOU WALKING SO quickly?"

I turn around after locking the front door to the house, only to see Luke scampering down the footpath.

The morning sun is already too hot. Our new house is nicely ventilated, but until fall gets colder, even the two minute walk to the bus station is going to be too long.

"New town, new people," Luke explains matter-of-factly. He hasn't been in Carsonville all that long, yet he thinks he knows the roads well enough to walk without looking up from his Nintendo console. "I don't want people knowing we're related."

I roll my eyes, watching my little brother drift further and further away on his spindly legs. I wouldn't want to be related to him either, if I could help it. The truth of our relationship is: my brother and I barely tolerate each other. Sadly for me, Lucas Olsen is at that awkward age where everything he does is annoying and I am just at that age where everything annoys me. Probably because I have to wake up too goddamned early for school.

I retort heatedly, "Don't get expelled on the first day, at least! I don't want to move again."

He's still not watching where he's going. It would give me great pleasure if he hit a crack in the concrete and smashed his smug face into the ground.

"Hey, I didn't get expelled! It's not my fault we moved," Luke exclaims.

I sigh heavily. No, it wasn't his fault. He just conveniently rebelled in retaliation when Mom broke the news to him, ending his academic year on suspension.

My eyes stay on Luke's back as we approach the bus stop. His hair, I notice, is uncombed like mine — I couldn't be bothered after waking up twenty minutes late. Tangled hair is a family trait, amongst brown eyes and ambition. Ambition, actually, is the reason we are here.

Our family of three used to live across the country in sunny California — though I never tanned, I burned — had our whole lives. We were close to extended family, connected with our neighbours, and happy. Or at least, I thought we were. Our father passed away when I was a toddler, when Luke was barely an afterthought. We managed on a single income until the topic of college came up, at which point Mom decided things needed to change.

My mother is a manager. She manages everything at home, from finances to housekeeping, and she manages a bakery franchise as a job. She did the same thing back home, just with a smaller, more predictable clientele. Last year she was rightly given a raise and the opportunity to shine in one of the franchise's larger branches: the Carsonville branch.

My cousins and friends protested at first — along with me — but Mom, ever the persuasive one, managed to convince us all. Compared to my old town, Carsonville has better schools, higher proximity to a well-rated college, nicer, safer neighbourhoods. My best friends can Skype me, Mom pointed out, and I can always make new friends. From a logical, pro-con perspective, the hole in my heart is supposed to be small, yet it feels lethally big.

But who wouldn't want to live in a place straight out of a movie?

White picket fences, green lawns and all.

Mom dragged my brother and I to Carsonville with no time for me to hang out with my friends from my old high school. My family and I have been here since the end of my junior year, scouting around for good shops, looking at schools, unpacking, the like. I bet they enjoyed a carefree summer break, swimming, watching movies and staying up late, while I figured out where the damn bookstore is in this sleepy town.

I refuse to let myself feel anything but apathy about this, because if I were to have an opinion on our sudden move, it wouldn't be joy. Wouldn't be anything close to it. Right now, I'm barely preventing the nervous excitement, anticipation and dread from making a mess of me.