Fracted (Book #2)

Chapter 6: A Punch in the Face

What do I do? She's here! How did she know about all this? I'm stuffed with hot, scorching lava inside. It slowly melted my other organs as I looked further and longer. Ace runs back to them and I didn't even notice at first. Should I run? No, that would be stupid, I'd get left behind and get captured. Too much pressure was built up inside me, sickening my stomach. Something that Robert said to me came across my mind... what was that word? Optic, optical, optimization, optimal... optimistic! I should be optimistic like he said I was, if I can. I gotta try. So I walked over to them calmy with my hands closed into a fist. As I reached the rubber line that divided the cemented floor and the carpet, I choked on my own breath.
"Jess!" Mom greeted, but she stayed in her chair.
"Hi..." I said bluntly. She took a long look at me.
"There's something different about him," she said to Ace. "What's wrong?"
"Contacts?" he said. "I managed to save them just in case."
"Wait, what? I don't remember getting contacts."
"Seriously, this'll bring back a few memories." Ace opens the small case and stretched out my eyelid. He slips it on quick without my knowledge. It stings, like splashing rubbing alchohol on a bloody gash.
"Gentle!" I smacked his forearm as he pulled my hair back.
"Okay, okay... one more." The second time, it was cold and slippery. It's relaxing. I blink a couple times, my eyes holding back cold tears.
"How is it?" he asked.
"Okay," I raised my right thumb and smiled a little.
It was awkward... the whole entire thing. I waited there for a few hours, watching Robert and Sarra finish an entire platter of chicken tenders, fries, hash brown, and nuggets served with a large drink. I only got two tenders and five sips, but I'm satisfied. One of them belched like a stuffed grizzly bear. I swear it was Robert, but Sarra was the one who covered her mouth out of guilt. Jackson wakes up after smelling Sarra's chicken and hash brown breath.
"That was gnarly," he said. "What time is it?"
"One hour and twenty-five minutes before our flight. We still got some time," Ace said.
"Please tell me you got past inspection," mom said.
"Yes, we did." Jackson said, yawning and stretching out every part of his body.
"Are you telling the truth? Or are you planning to multiply your lies like André?"
"Mom, please don't." I said.
"I'm just making sure,"
I scoffed and straightened my posture on my chair.
"So, tell me the truth."
"I am telling the truth." Jackson insisted.
"But I just have that feeling that you're lying. I think mind-reading is the key to me finding out the truth."
"Okay..." I stood from my chair. "I'm going, I don't want to hear more of this. Jackson, will you just telekinetically shut her up?" I walked away fast before she said another word.
I walked around the airport, wandering like a lost turtle. While looking for my shell, I spotted a mini-store with a six shelves of manuscripts. Three shelves on both left and right. The left side was filled with magazines and comic books, while the right side contained thick novels and other literature related things. It's right side, obviously.
While scanning through the pages of the book, Legend, I realize that I was the only one in the store. This is the reason why I chose this side, because I'm different and I don't pay much attention to technology and media. It kills the planet, having to use too much power. People don't usually see what's really out there, what to conquer, what matters the most. Cyber-bullying, social media, video games, the world is in the midst of hardship, and all these people care about are themselves. Books are not just printed words on a stack of papers, they are morals. They mean something. Something... worthy.

After finishing the first ten chapters within a half hour, I closed the book and put it back on the shelf. I started walking back, wishing that Jackson really did shut Leah up. I hoped she stopped her yapping. All the yapping must stop! I know she's my mother and I'm her real son, but she doesn't have to make me or anyone else a prisoner.
I hear eerie cries near me. Sounds like danger, I thought. A deep loud roar defeated the cries of the young girl's voice. I look at the two immediately and stopped in the middle of the wide path. Seems like the girl is arguing with, I assume, her dad.
"No! I don't want to go with you!" she cried, after escaping her father's powerful grip on her arm. She drops her baggage and her passport on the floor.
"There's no stopping me this time, Eiffel. Your mom already died for nothing. Are you sure you want to let her go just like that?"
"That's the whole point, George!" she stomped her foot and clenched her fists
"Why? Why can't you love your own mother?"
"How can I love her if I barely even know her?"
"That's the whole point of us going to France. So that you'll get a chance ti know her. This is your only chance to meet her."
"So I'm gonna meet the person who left me with a drunk which I'm talking to right now?" I gasp in shock as he slaps her across the face. Her right cheek almost red. I would have stopped his hand, but I was nine yards away. Poor girl, I wish I could help. But two security men approached the two held George back. George throws himself around, his gray-brown hair flickering in the bright lights while his muscular arms flail around uncontrollably. He swings his head, knocking the two guards on the carpeted floor. He lunges for Eiffel, who was obviously defenseless. My body rings with adrenaline, I don't know what I'm doing.
I felt his nose bend the other way as my right fist rush through his face. My knuckles bruised and my skin bleeding with someone else's blood. I think I saw one of his teeth fly out when his head turned the other way. I realize that we've made quite a spectacle. All the people around us gasp and focused on George, this is our lucky break. Run!
I pulled Eiffel's hand and ran to where I was originally heading.
"Wait, who are you?" she asked. "Why'd you do that?"
"It's kind of my job," I say. Wrong choice of words.
"You don't look like security, you're just a kid."
"Thank you, how flattering." I kidded.
"No, really. Thanks"
I let go of her hand, aware that she trusts me.