★Feffan City★

page 1

Oliver was just a normal sixteen year old kid, living his life. He lived in New Orion, which was by some place that used to be called San Francisco. At least that what his history teacher taught him, he wasn't paying attention in class that day. He was popular, fairly good looking, he had a lot of friends. His family may not have been particularly wealthy, but they got by. Good life really, lucky kid. That all changed so fast. All it took was one phone call.

"Hey dad, I'm heading to tennis practice. I'll see you when I get home. " Oliver called out as he ran through the door. He was already late, but he clambered onto his bike anyway. He wouldn't get in trouble, he wasn't often late, so he knew it would be fine.

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ring. . . ring. . . ring. . .

"I got it." Mr. Stint climbed out of bed, still drowsy from his afternoon nap. He went downstairs to pick up the phone. "Hello, Mr. Stint speaking."

"Mr. Stint, I hate to say this, but our operation in New Orion is coming to a close. You're going to need to relocate to Feffant city, and it's going to need to be soon. I'm sorry that this news is coming so suddenly, but you need to be ready to leave within a month. Can you manage that? "

" Well, yes. But why is the operation in New Orion stopping? What could have happened that we wou-"

" Mr. Stint, I understand your concern, but I don't have any answers for you. You would need to talk with corporate, and they happen to be the ones who are asking you to relocate. That is all, I wish you well. "

The lady on the phone had hung up, leaving Mr. Stint reeling. He somehow had to pack everything in his house, and set up to move, all within a month. And then there was Oliver. How would he react? Anthony Stint didn't want to find out, but he knew he would have to. He cradled his head in his hands and trembled slightly.

"Ten years, ten years I've worked here. Those damn corporate scumbags. . . One months notice? Is that all we're worth to them?"

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Oliver had been playing his last match in tennis when his father pulled up to the practice court. He was so surprised that he almost missed the ball as it flew towards him. He spun his racket, hitting it expertly with an underhand stroke, but just barely. What was his father doing here? He never came to his practices.

"Oliver, I'm afraid that I have some. . . Rather unsettling news to share. Come now, let's go home. "

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Oliver followed his father, not entirely sure of what was going on. He could tell that his father was nervous though. He kept checking his watch, which was never a good sign. He got in the car, and his father drove him home.