Inheritance

Chapter five: Routine Breaker

Ian woke up on his bed, thinking about the events that happened in his head. He then decided that he would think about it later and just got up. It was a school day, so he dropped himself into his regular routine. Shower; get back in bed for five minutes. Brush teeth. Wear clothes. Sleep in bed for another five minutes. Go downstairs.

Suddenly his schedule was messed up. Usually as he came downstairs, he prepared himself for the onslaught of critique that was usually his parents. But today there was no voices, just a bowl of corn flakes and a note, which read:

Ian,

Please don't be so late to school this time. We decided to let you sleep in instead of waking you up, because it's you future that you're toying with, not ours. Remember, breakfast is the most important meal of the day, so we prepared you some so that you can get those A's! And you say that we don't care.

Mom and Dad.

Ian was glad that his schedule wasn't that off track. He took the note and the bowl of cereal and threw them in the trash. Then he moved and put together his own breakfast. A Cinnamon Bagel and Orange juice. As normal.

Ian's logic was a follows. Crazy people are unpredictable. No routine. If he could follow routine, then he would be fine. Not crazy. He was doing it more for himself that for anything else, that didn't really matter.

There were a couple of times that he almost messed up. He turned on the T.V to watch while eating breakfast. There was a news report about murders of three boys in the neighborhood. He changed the channel to the show he usually watched. Routine must be followed if this was going to work. He finished eating and put his glass in the sink. Routine.

He hadn't heard that old dude's voice in his head all morning, so what he was doing was most likely working.

After another nap, he headed towards the door, putting on his left sock, then his right sock, then his right shoe then his left shoe. Routine. He saw another note sticking on the coat rack out of the corner of his eye, but he ignored it. It wasn't part of the routine, so it wasn't there. All he needed was to get through the door in front of him, and he was home free. He twisted the knob and pulled the door.

The door would not open.

Ian cursed under his breath, twisted the key, unlocked the door and tried again. This was almost out of routine.

The door still refused to open and Ian just stood there, looking stupid. The realization dawning upon him, he turned and looked at the yellow sticky note that was still sticking out innocently on the coat rack. If you looked at it the right way, then you could almost picture it smiling at you.

Ian stood and snatched the note from its spot. He unfolded it and began to read.

Ian,

Hey buddy. I don't know how to put it, but you're kind of a pansy. Not like the boys in my day. Men were men. They looked like men, and acted like men. You're a man, but you're a squirrely man, and that won't do. Your summoning power is connected directly to your physical power, and you don't have a lot of that. When you summon someone, you're weakness is putting a weight on their power. In other words, you're dragging all of us down. So you gotta train. I've written a warm up for you today. It's on the other side of this note. Also you'll never get to school unless you do it. I don't have a lot of power left, so I used some of yours. I'll see you at school!

Max, (or as you call me in your head, the old guy)

Ian flipped over the note and read the workout list:

50 push-ups, sit-ups, pull ups, squats

Run all the way to school.

So much for routine.

. . .

By the time Ian made it to school it was second period and he was exhausted. Until he did all of those exercises, he was trapped in the house. He had tried the windows, everything. Nothing electronic would turn on, so no communication. When he did the last squat, there was a loud, "DING!" and the door swung open.

When he was jogging to school, the old dude had covered his tracks pretty well. If Ian tried to do anything but actually jog, then he would be stuck in place, unable to move at all. At this point there was no point even trying to make it to school on time, so he just took his sweet time; resting whenever he felt like he needed a rest. This is why he was a whole hour late to school.

When he got there, it was recess, and Ian went to the snackbar. He waited in line. While he waited, he decided that he would try to fall back into routine. As he walked to the front, he decided to get his usual, a giant cinnamon bun, and easily double the size of his face. When he got to the front, what he actually ended up ordering was an apple and water. On the apple was a sticky note with the old dude's handwriting, "Be Healthy".

Ian ate the apple and headed towards class. As he walked down the hallway, he heard talk about the murder who was running around, killing teens. Ian couldn't help but feel guilty. He walked on, heading towards his next class, eating the apple. He entered the room and froze. Standing in his comparative governments class, was not his usual teacher, but the old dude. He was cleaner and better dressed, but it was definitely the same man that Ian found begging on the side of the street

The old man had the nerve to look Ian in the eye and say, "Please sit down, class it in session."

The two looked at each other and it was Ian who looked away and headed towards his desk.

Class had begun.