Summer Of Mayhem (Westside's Saga #1) ✔

Fifteen: Why?

That was the word that stuck.

The question that stuck.

Why means for what reason. For what purpose.

Why did the Goon bring Westdale to Neon City?

Why did he invent the Porter 3000?

Why didn't grandpa want this to happen?

Those, my dear friends, are the questions that I die to be answered. And so far, I have not had a single clue.

The last question above, though, is the most puzzling one.

Why didn't he want us to reach Neon City?

I mean... the place is nice... especially at night. It's more advanced, with flying cars and hoverboards. People are happy. I... I sure miss Westdale, but sometimes a change is good, isn't it?

That question leads to other questions, too. For instance, how did grandpa know about Neon City? How did he know the Goon's plans?

"Well hello there," an old man called from the rocking chair he was sitting on as I walked along Surreal Drive towards Harvey's. The old man peeked across his eyeglass. "Are you... that guy... Andy- Andre..."

I hid my chuckle with a cough. "Alex Anderson, sir," I said.

The old guy leaned forward, taking a good look at me. "What brings?"

"I was just walking to my friend's house... over there," I explained, pointing to the house a few blocks away in front.

"What's his name?"

"Harvey Parker, sir."

The bald old guy with only a little white hair on the side lowered his glasses slowly. "Sabrina's little boyfriend, eh?"

I winced, frowning at the same time. "H-how'd you know? And FYI he's not her boyfriend."

He grinned. "Ah. Why don't you take a seat?" he offered, adjusting his position on the chair.

I stepped onto the lawn, pulling out a chair for me to sit on. "Thanks."

"Sabrina's my granddaughter," the old man said.

I widened my eyes. "Oh, explains. So what do you do?"

"Sit here twenty-four-seven," he laughed. "Just chillin', you know, living the life."

I faintly nodded my head, and his smile slowly turned into a frown. "Your old man... he was one of my friends," he slowly said. 

I looked away, running my hand through my hair. "Roger Anderson," I mumbled.

"Look, I'm so sorry for your loss, Andy." 

I nodded, trying to swallow my tears. "Thanks."

He sighed. "Your grandfather was a very good man. I bet you're just like him." 

I chuckled, snuffling. "I know. But I... I..."

"Don't worry, I feel you. I've been through similar," he said, putting a hand on my shoulder. 

I tried my best to smile, getting up. "Thank you, Mr. Morgan, but I have to go." 

He reached out his hand and we shook. "Remember, I'm always here for you." 

I smiled, nodding. "Alright, Mr. Morgan. Thanks."

—

"Sabrina!" I said as I walked into Harvey's room. "Was that your grandfather!"