Chan's Story: A Numbers Game Short: (Numbers Game 1.5) by Rode Rebecca

Author:Rode, Rebecca [Rode, Rebecca]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Diamond Patch Press
Published: 2015-10-16T16:00:00+00:00

Something was wrong. It was getting dark, and a single light illuminated the front porch as it always did. But his mother would never have stood for the junk that now sat by the door.

He dropped his bike and approached, taking the long walkway to avoid stepping on the fragile plastic lawn. A number of items lay haphazardly strewn about the porch. A blanket hanging on the top step by a corner. A lamp, its shade dented. Plastic packages of unopened purple uniforms. His pillow. A half-empty tube of nutrition pills. That one sat closest to the door, as if the culprit had placed it there as an afterthought.

He didn’t check his techband; there would be no message. The Norwell home was an honorable one, and Chan was no longer honorable. He was bù guangcai de. He examined his belongings with a dull, analytic eye. Nothing here was really his. Bedding, clothes, and food pills. The three necessary items for survival. It was generous that they’d even provided this much for a son who was no longer theirs.

A small figure drew the shade upward and peeked out the window. Lin. She watched him for a moment, and he waved. The moment his hand moved, she jerked back and let the shade fall.

Deshi. Chan hadn’t thought to call him yet. Deshi was probably still waiting to hear what had happened. Surely he would understand. Chan clicked his screen open and dialed, ignoring his shaking hand. It beeped several times before the call ended. Deshi was probably on a date.

He dialed again. This time it didn’t even beep before ending. Deshi had silenced the call.

Chan tried three more times before giving up. He let his arm drop, slapping his hand against his thigh. The screen was still open, and the device’s punishment mode sent a painful jolt up his arm. Techbands didn’t like being messed with. The pain fit his mood perfectly.

He whacked the screen against his leg again, harder. The techband’s reaction was immediate. He doubled over, sliding to the ground in agony. It was probably a few seconds, although it felt like forever. Then the pain subsided, leaving him writhing on the ground. The lawn. His mother would be furious at him for crushing the blades.

A laugh gurgled up from his throat at the ridiculousness of that thought. Fates forbid he ruin the plastic lawn as he died. A lifetime of conditioning was hard to overcome.

Died. He glanced at his screen. It was still attached, although one side needed repair. If he hit it just once more . . .

He could do it. All it would take was a solid blow to the techband, something purposeful and well aimed. A rock or a hammer maybe. But his limbs shook. He could barely sit, much less hit the band with the force needed.

Chan clicked it softly closed.

You don’t have the guts to do it, a voice taunted him from within. No wonder you’re a yellow.

It’s not like you’re yellow material, Deshi had said.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.