chapter two:

Caelum sat quietly, screwing in the final bolt on the old-school radio. “Okay. . .” He muttered, turning it back around and flicking on the switch in front.

It crackled and hissed as Caelum played with the knobs. Finally, it began to make coherent noises. Distant voices, and the steady hum of music. Caelum double checked the antenna sticking out the top, adjusting them when necessary. Then, he tuned the knobs again.

Finally, steady jazz filtered through the radio. Caelum leaned back, rubbing his hands on the raggedy grey towel beside him. “Mr. Goldson!” He called to the main room. “I’m done!”

He heard a bit of shuffling and a few things being moved out of the way, before finally a older man stepped out and looked at him.

He was very short, heavy set and always wore a scowl, giving him the look of a disgruntled troll. He had rectangular glasses bridged on his nose and wrinkles from squinting around his eyes. He was missing a finger on his right hand ― he claimed it was a hunting accident, but in the same sentence said that he crushed it with a mallet. In his left hand was a short cane, which he used to get around ― and occasionally swat Caelum with.

He always smelt of tobacco, and was usually found with a cigarette defying gravity between his lips. Caelum hated the smell, it choked his lungs and it stuck to his clothes, but he couldn’t get Mr. Goldson to quit.

“It workin'?” Mr. Goldson asked gruffly, looking behind Caelum to the radio.

“Yes, sir,” Caelum replied, stepping away and to show the radio that was still playing steady jazz.

Mr. Goldson, however, frowned, “Okay. . .” he muttered, not being able to find fault in this radio. Caelum breathed a quiet sigh, also not wanting to get in a row with the older man. “Come over 'ere, I need you to lift some of these boxes.” He said, and waved him out of the back room.

Caelum followed as Mr. Goldson hobbled towards the door. They were in a auto-repair shop. Usually, Caelum spent his time there repairing car parts, or moving Mr. Goldson’s endless supply of heavy boxes ― like he was doing today. But, when he came in that afternoon, Mr. Goldson had him fix his radio, which was almost as prehistoric has Mr. Goldson himself. It was a stubborn thing, but Caelum managed it, like he did everything else.

Mr. Goldson pointed to the dozen of large boxes on the ground. “I need you to move those to the work room,” he ordered.

“Yes, sir,” Caelum replied and bent down. The box was immensely heavy ― which made Caelum wonder how this old man got it in the house in the first place. Mr. Goldson turned his back to leave as Caelum struggled to lift it. Then, he remembered something from earlier. “Mr. Goldson!” The man froze, turning around to see him. “I, uh, didn’t get my check last week. . . do you still have it?”

Mr. Goldson curled his lip, annoyed. “You’ll get it, be patient boy,” he scowled, looking more like the troll than ever. Caelum knew money was an unpleasant subject for the older man, but. . . he wasn’t keen on doing Principal Davis any more favours.

“I’m just asking,” Caelum continued, “Because my family has a few overdue bills to pay. I. . . I don’t want us getting kicked out of our house. My dad’s already fixing on getting us to move soon, probably to Brooklyn. I don’t want to leave this place, and I want to help my folks. . .” He trailed off, waiting for Mr. Goldson to answer. Waiting for him to take the bait.

“. . . It’ll be in the office tonight,” he grumbled, and hurried out of the room before Caelum could ask anymore questions.

Caelum didn’t need to, he smirked to himself and picked up the box, continuing to walk down the hall, cutting across the main floor and depositing it in the back. He rolled his shoulders when he was finally able to be rid of it, before turning to repeat the process.

° · ° · ° · °

Caelum didn’t make it back home until late that night. He was certainly cutting it close too. His parents didn’t get back home until 9 or 9:30, and he arrived back at 8:55. He shoved his key in the lock, finding his two younger, twin brothers watching the television dumbly. Caelum tossed his keys on the table, and the two boys hardly looked at him. He kicked his shoes off and went to the fridge, “Did y'all take out that meat like mom asked?”

“Yes,” The twins replied, not looking away. Caelum frowned, looking on the countertop, and finding the ground beef.

Caelum went to his room to change, then he came back, washed his hands, rolled up his sleeves, and began to cook. He pulled the meat into a bowl and began softening it, adding his own spices and flavours as he did so. Then, he began to section them off individually, and creating small meat-mounds. He turned the stove on, pouring a bit of oil and other seasonings in the pot, before dropping the meat mound on top. He did the same thing about a dozen more times, setting them out individually as he waited for the burgers to cook.

The door opened as Caelum pressed the meat down. He heard the high heels of his mother’s shoes on the wooden floor. “Are the dishes washed?” She asked the twins. From their silent reaction, she had her reply. They scrambled up immediately, turning the television off and going to the dishwasher, unloading it haphazardly.

His mother, Apolline Forest, came to his side as he cooked silently, dropping the cooked patties in a therma-glass pan. “How was school?”

She was a rather tall woman, even without her heels. Her hair was always relaxed and pulled back. Her skin was dark from her days under the sun in Northern France, where she grew up. Caelum sometimes wondered how his father and his mother ever found themselved compatible, but never asked her himself. It was unnecessary information.

“It was well,” Caelum replied monotonously. He cooked the last few patties and turned to go to the fridge. His mother barred his way. Caelum rose an eyebrow.

“The Principal called me,” she continued, and Caelum forced himself not to flinch as the name.

“I am aware,” Caelum replied. “The situation has been handled. It was an accident, the boy is fine.”

His mother rose a thick eyebrow to match his own. Caelum could almost see her glazing through his lie. Peter was fine, of course, but it wasn’t an accident. “You can’t afford to lose this scholarship, Algol.”

A frown pinched Caelum’s cheeks, “You know I don’t like that name,” He said clearly, trying to keep the irritation out of his tone. “And, I am well aware of the precarious situation regarding my stay at Midtown High.” He was more aware of it than his mother could ever dream of. “I won’t lose my scholarship.”

His mother smirked, “A full ride to a school like that isn’t easy to come by.” Caelum knew that as well, because he didn’t have the full ride. “What are you making?”

Grateful for the change of subject, Caelum turned back to the stove, flipping the patties. “Burgers,” He replied. “And, there are vegetables in the fridge.”

His mother nodded approvingly. “I’ll be back. You might want to take a shower before dinner ― your track meet is still on you.” That was also another lie he told his parents. Caelum didn’t go to a track meet. His ‘track meet’ was actually his shift at the repair shop. If his father found out that he was spending his time fixing broken things than being eligible for a scholarship for college. . . he’d have more problems to worry about than just Principal Davis.

His mother got washed up, then offered to finish the rest so he could do the same. Caelum was grateful and made his way to his room. He used to share it with the twins, but after he fought a long and hard campaign of getting his own room, his parents finally gave in. A few of his key points was that he needed his own study space and a way to be able to keep his things in order, which was something the twins ruefully disliked.

Caelum set his bag on his bed, and stretched. His feet hurt and he wanted to go to sleep, but he had mounds of schoolwork to do, especially from the class he missed during his time with Principal Davis. Luckily, his teacher was kind enough to send him the notes, but that only meant more work on his part.

Caelum set his stuff out, keeping his check from Mr. Goldson securely hidden in a notebook, that he used to calculate all of his spendings in order to properly budget his money. He grabbed his towel, and a change of clothes, before heading to the bathroom. He was stopped, however, but the twins, Castor and Pollux.

They both had tight, curly hair, and freckles. They were near identical in every way except one ― Castor has a freckle on his left cheek that was a bit off than Pollux’s.

Caelum shook his head at the names. Castor, Pollux, Algol. . . His parents were seriously obsessed with astronomy.

“What do you want?” Caelum demanded, annoyed. His father would be back soon and he would rather finish his shower before this happened.

“You were late,” Castor said.

“We need a five dollars for our silence.” Caelum frowned, he didn’t have that kind of money to be dishing away. But, if the twins told on him. . .

“Let me take my shower first,” he conceded. “I’ll give it to you tonight.” This pleased the boys, they turned and left, hiding in their own room on the apartment. Caelum sighed, rubbing his temples. This was going to be a tough couple of weeks. With his tuition, paying the boys, school, and work. He’d be skipping a few meals, at least.

But, it wasn’t anything he couldn’t handle.

Caelum showered quickly and got dressed for dinner. He went to help his mother in the kitchen, getting the food ready, and the table set. She was just setting down the corn and asparagus when the door opened, revealing his father.

Justice Forest was a tall, slender man. He had dark shaved hair that was prickled with grey, and a stubbly beard. He was muscular and strong, but that wasn’t from doing manual labour jobs. He worked as a chemical engineer for a big name company Caelum never bothered to learn the name of. He wasn't exactly important, from his position, but Justice always tried to make it look like he was.

His mother was similar, graduating from Brown University with a degree in nursing. She was a nurse at a local hospital, and from what her patients and colleagues told him, a very good one at that. They all expected Caelum to live up to these standards, a nurse and an engineer. That was his fate ― his legacy, if you will.

Caelum stood straight as his father stepped over, “Smells good,” he commented, wrapping his arms around his mother’s shoulders. “What is it?”

“Burgers and vegetables,” she replied warmly. “But I can cook that salmon if you’d prefer that.”

His father didn’t seem to be listening, he pushed his face in his mother’s neck and she laughed, rubbing his head. “I would like that. . .” he murmured, and his mother laughed again.

“Please, show a bit of discretion,” Caelum spoke, breaking up the heartfelt moment so he didn’t vomit on the spot. “Isn’t this how you had the twins?” His mother chuckled and his father rose an eyebrow, but moved away anyway.

“How was track practice?” Justice asked his son.

“Well,” Caelum replied, keeping his lies short and precise. Too much would cause disentanglement.

“The food will be ready soon,” His mother said, and Caelum felt a bit relieved. “Go wash up, and call the boys in, please.” Justice gave his wife a peck on the cheek and Caelum suppressed an eye roll. Instead, he turned away, grabbing the burgers from the oven, where he put to keep them warm.

Soon, the twins came running into the room, both holding toy transformers in their hands. “Put those away,” his mother scolded. The twins set them on the counter, positioning them in delicate battle positions. They sat on the side of the table together, Castor nearer his mother, Pollux his father. Caelum sat near his father, his hands folded in his lap, waiting for his father’s permission to move.

Beside Caelum, was an empty place. The table set, but nobody sitting there. Beside Caelum, a ghost sat, waiting to be served as well, waiting to be acknowledged.

Nobody ever looked beside Caelum.

As his father said grace, Caelum made a checklist of things he needed to do after dinner. Help wash up, start out on the history work he missed out on, finish the final draft of his science essay, finish his math worksheet, start researching for his presentation on the history english dialectic in the African-American community. He also had a few papers for his Russian class, along with trying to figure out where in the world he was going to get the money for the―

“Algol!” His father’s voice brought him out of his thoughts. He turned so sharply, he could’ve gotten whiplash.

“Yes, sir?” He asked, and heard his brothers giggling annoyingly across from him.

“Your mother was telling me that Principal Davis called home this morning?” Caelum stared at his father, then realized what his father was referring to.

He calmly assessed the situation. He already explained that the issue was no big deal to his mother, but his father would want to know every detail. He would want to know who was involved in the accident, if he would have to pay anything ― which he wouldn’t.

His father knew of Peter. He didn’t approve of Peter, thinking him to be a bad influence on Caelum. He didn’t know that Peter took the full scholarship to the school.

“Yes,” Caelum replied, taking the plate of vegetables from his younger brother. He laid out his food, thinking of his next few words carefully. “There was a situation at school. I was having a conversation with one of my classmates, and he didn’t see where he was going. He tripped going down the steps. Seeing as I was the only other person there, it made it easier for his friend to assume I had pushed him,” which he did. “He is well, no major injuries. We went to the Principal to clear the manner.”

“You need to be more careful,” His father warned, and Caelum drowned his annoyance. “That school is expensive. You’re lucky you got that scholarship ― you don’t want to be paying for it.”

“Yes, sir,” He replied, spooning a few vegetables on his plate. “I will.”

“Good,” He nodded firmly. “What else is going on at that school?”

“Nothing important,” Caelum replied. “A few clubs will be opening up soon, but I’m not interested.”

His father nodded, firmly, “That’s good. But, you need a back up,” Caelum twitched, did he say something wrong? “If that track thing doesn’t come out, you need to have something else you can do.”

“That’s true,” His mother agreed. “If you get hurt, you can’t do that anymore.”

“Join a club,” his father ordered. “I heard there was a–a, decathlon there? I saw on the news. Join that ― that’ll open up some opportunities for college. Nothing but the best for MIT, right?” He laughed, nudging Calum's arm. Caelum didn’t look at him, his mind was reeling. Decathlon? He didn’t have time for a decathlon!

“Yes, sir,” he said, and his father nodded, satisfied.

He turned to his brothers, “What did you two do, huh?”

“There’s a field trip coming up!” Castor announced.

“It’s at the statehouse,” Pollux said.

His dad made a face, “The statehouse? What do you need to go to the statehouse for?” He scoffed. “Not doing anything for me.”

“Justice,” His mother warned, and his father gave annoyed look.

“Did you see what happened the other day?” His father scoffed, “Voted in favour of gay marriage!” His father sneered, dumping a bit more vegetables on his plate. “Please! They’re supposed to vote for us! That’s bull―”

“Justice!” Apolline stopped him, and his father shook his head, annoyed. Caelum felt a chill run up his spine, and he inhaled softly.

His father noticed and laughed, “You get what I mean,” He grinned, slapping Caelum on the back. He tensed, swallowing, and continued to eat his vegetables. “What do you think, Algol?”

Caelum ate his food, trying to buy himself more time, his mind scrambling for an excuse, something to say that would get his father off is back. “I. . . I agree,” He said, wiping at his mouth. “May I be excused? I have a bit more work to finish.”

“Yes,” his mother replied, “Of course.” Caelum stood from the table, grabbing his plate, and rinsing it off before setting it in the dishwasher. He nodded to his mother and father before quickly leaving the room.