The Indefinite's

Chapter 1- A Boy of Words

Chapter 1- A Boy of Words
In a world not to far away from our own, or perhaps the same world, a young boy named Adam was climbing a tree.
Up he went, going further and further up the wobbly branches of the tree. The ray of sun was just a few feet above him, and Adam could see the top of the tree. He reached out to grab a small branch to his right when-

"ADAM!" cried a voice from below.
And all of a sudden, Adam was falling.
He instinctively reached out for a branch, but it was as if the world was falling on top of him, as he plunged and fell to the ground.
Feeling the back of his head, Adam squinted in pain as a girl ran across the field and knelt beside him.
"Adam! Are you alright? Did you fall?" said the blonde haired girl, her brown eyes giving Adam a feeling of joy just as they always did. The girl helped Adam off of the ground, and as his knee trembled in pain, he tried his best to limp alongside the girl as they made their way through the valley.
"I'm so sorry that I scared you Adam- I shouldn't have yelled, but Mom is going crazy- I hate going to Aunt Marge's, mom is such a packing freak." she said, as the two walked almost in sync through the trails leading up to a cottage on a hill. Tall grass blowed by them, and Adam felt the familiar summer wind blow by his ears as they approached closer to the cottage.
Beginning a run, Adam and the girl raced through the shortcut to the backyard of their house, where a war scene awaited them.
Yells and swears filled the air as a tall, frizzy haired and brown eyed woman chased around a half-naked little boy, who shared a familiar set of golden brown hair that laid flat upon his head like a helmet, which was was the term he prefered over the real dreaded "bowl cut" his mother insisted he kept. The little boy wore no shoes and wore only a pair of dirty and ripped denim jeans, which by the looks of, his mother was wanting to change.

"Louis! Get. Over. HERE!" his mother yelled, chasing the boy around the old, warn blue 1955 ford thunderbird whom's engine sounds made it sound as if the buggie would die any second. The girl with Adam giggled as she to chased after the boy, who for the age of 5, was surprisingly fast. Adam, however, walked over to his waving dad who was tinkering with the inside of the much nicer vehicle his family owned, a shining black ford truck that glimmered in the sunlight, which Adam hoped, would be his someday. Adam, half-limping, walked over to his dad who flung his arm around Adam as he pulled him closer to take a look at the hood of the truck. The smell of oil filled his face as his dad motioned for Adam to grab a pair of pliers, which he handed over into his dad's oil covered hands. His dad was what he thought a stereotypical country-farmer looked liked, his long dark beard, arms that clearly were used for work, and the all-around dirt and holes that covered most of his clothes made him appear to be a classic "Cotton-Eye-Joe" figure, but Adam knew at heart, his dad was a city-liver. He loved their home in Hensville, but he knew his dad prefered to spend his days in the hot weather of New Georgia, where the sun was always blazing and where no rain seemed to ever come into sight. Adam and his family were headed to New Georgia to visit their great aunt Marge, whom they stayed with every summer in her huge beach-side home. Adam wasn't against the trip as much as his siblings, who hated the over-controlling nature their mother always brought with them to New Georgia and the demands Aunt Marge was guaranteed to enlist them the moment they arrived, but what Adam was going to miss most of all was the treehouse he took sanctuary in whenever he had the chance. Adam had built the fort over 4 years ago in a period of only 1 month in late fall, and hadn't stopped improving the structure ever since. His mother called it "Adam Land", as besides the valleys and his days at school, Adam spent most of his time in and around the treehouse. It was a small wooden building, roughly the size of a decent sized bathroom, that without the ladder that led up the the ceiling of the fort would most likely just look like a shed to most, but to Adam his treehouse was home. Most days he slept in it, he read, he did his homework, and often spent hours upon end climbing the surrounding trees and building new furniture for his treehouse. What was so important to Adam about this treehouse, he knew not, but he did have a slight secret to why he spent so much time up in the treehouse, away from even his family. Books. Adam loved the outdoors, but combining it with reading perched upon a tree was everything he needed. Books always called out to Adam, and they gave him a sense of purpose everytime he picked one up. It was as if the pages of the books called to Adam, as when he turned through the pages of the leather-impounded objects, he could almost feel the books, as if they were a grasp away. Reading made him feel purpose, and secret to everybody but Adam, he dreamed of becoming a author himself. To create worlds in which he could tell stories, share ideas, express emotion, he had never dreamed of such a better idea. But to a boy who was surely expected to become a farmer just like his parents, and being the oldest boy of the family guaranteed this lifestyle even more to Adam, who wanted nothing more then to escape the farm he was supposed to call home.
A hand waved in front of Adam, as his father clasped his hand against the back of Adam's head, which generated a wave of pain through Adam's body, as he winced the back of his head.
"Boy, you better not dilly-dally like this at your Aunt Marge's." His father said, as he looked to realize his son clutching his head.
"Did ye' fall again?" he said, as Adam nodded his head in response.
His father gave a brash laugh, and pulled Adam's arm away from his head.
"I swear one day your mother will come yelling to me saying you burst your head open." "Better go put some ice on it, we're leaving soon and I don't want your mom finding out your hurt and hear her shoutin' even more." his dad said, as he changed his focus to the hood of the truck in front of him. "There should be a ice pack in the house if you need one, but ye' better hurry, your mom will go ballistic if we waste anymore time."
With hurry, Adam ran up the front porch and into the cottage, where he was met with the floral-printed wallpaper of the living room as he opened up the freezer and retrieved a small ice pack which he set upon his head. The coolness of the ice pack soothed Adam almost instantly, as he gave a breath of relief and made his way out of the cottage, the pain in his head already seemed to settle down as he walked once more into the field of chaos outside.
With a backpack in hand, the girl from before walked up to Adam and held out the pack, ushering Adam to grab it.
"Mom wants you to go grab your suitcase from your room, and she said if you needed to pack anything extra then to use this bag." she said, as she leaned over to whisper something in Adam's ear. "I wouldn't use this bag, it's dad's old tackle bag, and it smells rotten. Like- like... fish." she said, shoving the bag into Adam's arms. Adam laughed silently to himself, as a familiar voice rang in the background.

"Maybelline! If I have to tell you again- go bring Max over to Mrs.Kliff's! There is no way that dog is coming with us, so don't even think of trying to hide him from me!" the sound of her mother's voice seemed to shake Maybelline, as she rolled her eyes at Adam and ran over to take Max, the family dog, to their cranky old neighbour Mrs.Kliff who would be watching the dog over the summer. Adam once again made his way into the cottage, where he entered his almost empty room and grabbed his bright-red suitcase that he had packed only the day before. Adam was used to the emptiness of his room, as he had brought almost all of his personal belongings into his treehouse, which he considered his true room anyways. The only real evidence that the room was indeed used was the pile of books stacked in the corner of the room, where heavy dust covered the letters and drawings of the books and made them almost unreadable from a distance. Adam had to many books to count, many of which he put together himself, and stacked all of his unused textbooks books into the corner of his room, where they stayed until Max decided he needed them.  He had almost forgotten some of them, as most were math and science books. Grade 6 Basic Algebra, The Needs of Math, Whiz Kid: Becoming Better In Science with 10 Easy Steps! Of all subjects, Adam hated math. He knew it was a important part of school, but Adam always found math and science the hardest to learn. All of the problems and patterns drove Adam's head mad- and it was nearly impossible to pay attention in any classes where he wasn't reading. It was as if though the boy had to use words and images to work, and the numbers and symbols of math just did not align with this way of thinking. Adam was content with being a D average in math, but his mother on the other hand, was not happy to repeatedly see these marks in Adam's report card. Ever since Grade 5 Adam had been taught by over 8 different tutors for math, but no matter who or what they did Adam could not seem to improve much in the field of math. If it weren't for the consistent A+ marks he got in English and Language areas of school and his occasional A in gym, Adam would certainly be close to failing school. His one-sidedness towards the subjects in school worried his parents, as they thought certainly this kid of theirs, a kid who could speak almost 5 different languages, Adam, who was the honour student in all his English classes, could get good marks in math. However, the continuous tutoring and after-school classes never helped Adam, and reluctantly, his mother stopped pushing Adam so heavily, but still made it very clear he would still continue tutoring. Adam glimpsed his report card, where he had circled the Literature mark just a week before when school came to an end.
100%.
Perhaps it was just out of habit, but Adam did not care about his marks. He often knew what his marks would be, and did not engage in bets of who got the best or worst marks in class like some of his classmates did, as they to knew what Adam would get in every class.
Putting a new, empty journal he had just finished making a cover for that same day, Adam zipped up his school bag which he decided would be better to use then the fish-stenched bag his ,other had intended him to use, Adam walked outside, feeling the summer breeze blowing by his ears as he ran down to the car, where it seemed the war zone had been calmed. Louis was now wearing a t-shirt, which Adam knew by the angry look on the young boy's face was very annoying, and would most likely be off by the time the family left for New Georgia. His mother walked over with his father trailing not to far behind, both carrying suitcases that were packed with all of the items they would use for the summer. As he helped his dad lift his luggage into the back of the junk-mobile, Maybelline fiddled with the car seat of Louis as he kicked his legs excitingly, much to the annoyance of Maybelline.
Finally finishing with packing, Adam made his way into the middle of the backseat, plopping his book-filled backpack in between his legs as he buckled himself into the car. Following suit, Maybelline entered the vehicle and buckled herself in, and as the engine of the car rumbled behind them, they finally drove away from the cottage, the figure of Adam's treehouse growing smaller and smaller into the distance.
"Aren't you all excited to see Aunt Marge again?" Adam's mother asked, the gravel road beneath them shaking the vehicle.
Maybelline and Adam instinctively shared a look of "what do I say?" as Louis yelled "ME!" beside them, gaining a look of approval from his mother.
"We're both- uh- excited to, Mom." said Maybelline, stuttering the sentence.
"That's great, but do you agree Adam?" she asked.
Adam nodded, knowing that Maybelline definitely needed to speak for the both of them. For as much as words made him happy, Adam could not talk.