I'm Nine Again 4 Bruises

June, still applying her makeup, replied slowly as she was paying attention to her eyeliner.

"I can cook you something tonight if there is something that you want to eat," she said, "What were you wanting?"

"No," I said, "It's not that, it's just that I wanted to eat something fresh for a change. And also, I can't tonight, I'm going over to a friend's house for dinner."

"Oh, you have a friend. I've never heard you talk about him. What's his name?" she asked.

"Her name is Laura, and we are just working on a project, nothing too serious," I lied.

June paused doing her makeup and turned around to me, placing the eyeliner down on the sink beside her. She had a big grin on her face as she knelt to my level.

"You're going to a girls house huh?" she asked, "Is this Lauren girl your girlfriend?"

"It's Laura, and no, she's a friend. As I said, we are just working on a project together," I said.

June stood up and turned back to the mirror and continued applying her makeup.

"Well If you want a fresh meal then sure, I can help you cook it. What exactly did you want to cook?" she asked, still with a big childish smile on her face. She had the wrong idea though. She didn't know that I was actually a 25-year-old man stuck in the body of a nine-year-old boy. And that I definitely did not think of Laura, another nine-year-old child, as a romantic partner.

"I was thinking Italian," I said, "bruschetta entre with pasta Bolognese for the main and maybe a lemon cake with cream for dessert!"

June finished applying her makeup and then turned to me as she started straightening her hair. It was always crazy to see her hair go from a crazy morning mess to a fine and bouncy straight.

"That's quite the task, I don't think I know how to make that," she said scrunching her face a bit, "I also wouldn't know what ingredients to use."

"That's okay, I know how to make it," I said.

"How do you know how to make something like that?" she asked.

"They taught us in cooking cla.s.s at school," I lied.

"They teach that stuff to nine-year-old kids?" she asked.

"Yep," I lied again, "All I need are the ingredients and I'll be able to cook it. You guys will love it, trust me."

June pondered for a moment while she continued straightening her hair. I was able to tell the exact moment she would agree because her eyes lit up and a smile came across her face.

"I think I could do that for you!" she said, "You just give me a list of ingredients and I'll pick them up tonight and then tomorrow you can cook us all a big meal!"

She was always excited when I wanted to do something that she perceived as smart. She thought it was her way of being able to encourage me to be the best I could be. I felt bad lying to June. She was one of the nicest people this boy had in his life, always doing her best to make sure he could be his best. So that I could be my best. I didn't think I'd get too attached to anyone in the past, but June was one of those unique individuals who were nothing but kind to everyone they met.

I gave her the list of ingredients and she gave me a big kiss on the cheek and promised me that she'd get them for me. She made it really hard not to have a crush on her. Sometimes I'd curse my self for being put in a situation like this. What dumb luck. I was happy that I'd be able to cook through. I think I was more excited by the prospect of having fresh food than cooking. In my old life, I'd eaten horribly after I'd left home at 16. It was a lot of fast food and not a lot of vegetables. After years of eating like that, I started to crave fresh food. Fruits and vegetables as well as more exotic dishes that I'd never been introduced to when I was younger. Now that I'd spent nearly two weeks in this body eating nothing but junk, I was starting to feel the mental effects of a bad diet. I was also excited to see what I was going to be having for dinner at Laura's house. From what I gathered from her mother's car, her parents must be pretty well off. Those types of people always eat awesome food.

* * * * *

"Hey, Mum!" Laura said enthusiastically as she opened the pa.s.senger door to the car.

"Good afternoon Laura how was school?" her mother asked.

Her mother had short red hair tied up at the back and looked a bit older than my parents. If I was to guess, I'd have to say she was in her mid-30's. She wore a navy-blue denim jacket with a white shirt and a knee-length light denim skirt. I'd almost forgotten that denim on denim was a fashion trend until the early 2000s. Laura opened the back door to the car and beckoned me over.

"Mum, this is Travis. Travis, Mum." She said.

Her mother leaned forward across the pa.s.senger seat and greeted me with a smile.

"h.e.l.lo Travis, my name is Rachel," she said, "Laura has been talking about you non stop for the past few days, it's good to finally meet you."
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"I hope she was saying good things about me," I said.

"No," Laura said, "I told her you are the worst person in the world and that if there was anyone that we should avoid in public that it would be you."

"Laura!" her mother said, "No, she said you're one of the smarter people in the cla.s.s and that she's having a great time talking to someone else who is as smart as her."

"Almost as smart as me!" Laura bit.

"No," I started, "I'd say that I'm smarter." I poked my tongue out at her. She put one finger to her eye and pulled it down while poking her tongue back at me.

"Well, you two seem to get along just swimmingly!" Rachel said with a smile.

I extended my hand out to shake her hand and she took it and shook. She had a soft and calm handshake. She must be a very nice woman. It was something I'd learned long ago. You can tell a lot about someone based on how they shake your hand. It was almost a business language, being able to decipher what each handshake meant about the intentions of the other person.

I hopped into the car and put my seatbelt on and Laura did the same, hopping in the front seat. We started driving and Laura began telling her mother about the lessons she'd reviewed throughout her day at school. It seemed that Laura already knew most of what was being taught, she was probably taught by her parents and her tutor. School seemed to be a large revision cla.s.s for her.

"By the way Laura," her mother started, "I went out and got those notebooks and pens you were asking for. They're in the shopping bags in the back seat."

"Oh, great!" Laura said. She turned to look at me, "They're for you by the way."

"Huh?" I asked.

"You're always writing your notes and ideas on loose-leaf paper so I thought it would be good if you had some notebooks to write in," she said.

I looked over to the shopping bag next to me and looked inside. Sure enough, there were five different notebooks and 20 blue pens.

"Wow, um, you really didn't have to," I said,

"That's okay!" Rachel said, "They really didn't cost much, and when Laura asked me to get these for her friend and told me all about how you were walking around with a bag full of loose paper, I figured that I couldn't let that happen. I would hate for you to lose one of those pieces of paper and it having had something important on it."

It was clear that Laura's mother valued education. To the point where she would buy some writing materials for a child, she'd never met before. It was a bit of a shock, having spent the last two weeks surrounded by a family that was broken, to see a family value not only their own child so much, but someone else's child too.

"By the way," Rachel said, "Laura told me all about your plan and I am all for it!"

"Mum is a manager for a local newspaper company," Laura stated.

"Yep, I'm going to make sure this story makes the front page," she said, "If I'd never known this stuff was happening at that school and frankly, I'm disappointed that the school hasn't acted in the past!"

"Dad wasn't too happy by the way, but he came around eventually," Laura said.

"Your father is too much of a businessman," Rachel said, "He thinks everything can be solved with words but sometimes you need to go on the attack!" she said pa.s.sionately, "I'm going to have that horrible princ.i.p.als' job!"

I saw it all coming together now. We were going to release these photos and the community would riot! Rachel would put photos of my bruises on the front page and the princ.i.p.al would be forced to resign. The board of education would have to get involved. Hopefully, we could get the video footage we took on the news as well. It would cause national outrage. I almost felt bad for the h.e.l.l we were about to put this princ.i.p.al through but then I remembered that it was his own fault. How many kids had he let be bullied and continue to let be bullied without a proper anti-bullying policy? We were about to make the first bid change in this world, and it was going to be beautiful. Even if it was only on a small scale, it was going to make a lasting impact.

Laura's house was big. It was only a few minutes drive from the school but there was some point where we crossed over into the rich side of town. There were big houses all along the street with ma.s.sive gardens and perfectly trimmed nature strips. Laura went off with her tutor for an hour when we got there while her mother started preparing us some snacks. Biscuits with carrot, cheese, and tomato. My mouth watered at the look of the food that was being made. Rachel came and gave me one.

"Don't tell Laura you had one early," she said with a cheeky grin.

I opened the notebooks and pens and started to copy across the notes from all the paper I was carrying in my bag. It really was great to have all of the notes compiled into the notebooks. It was going to much less of ha.s.sle when I wanted to go over them, not having to sift through my bag to find the paper.

After Laura's tutoring session, we got to work on getting things ready for the media. We burnt the video onto to blank CD's, another thing that Rachel had gotten for us to a.s.sist us in our 'Battle against the power!' or so she put it. We printed out multiple copies of my bruises as well. We put them all in envelopes and wrote out the addresses for all the different news and current affairs programs. Rachel said she'd mail them out first thing in the morning after dropping Laura off at school. We gave another set of the evidence to Rachel who excitedly tucked it away in her bag.

"We are going to bring that school and it's policies to justice!" she said.

Her father got home right before dinner and we started eating soon after. Her father was a well-groomed man in his mid-30's but the amount of stress he must face in his job had aged his face a bit. He wore a perfectly pressed suit with a red tie. His appearance changed when he got home though. He took his blazer off, loosened his tie and kicked his shoes off.

"Another long day at the office!" he exclaimed, "Once I get all of these accounts settled, we are going on a holiday!"

He yawned as he stepped through into the living area and threw his suitcase on the couch. Noticing me, he looked over to me and smiled.

"Ahh, you must be Travis," he said, "Laura has been talking non stop about you."

"No, I haven't!" she snapped.

"No," he said, "No you haven't stopped talking about him."

"Shut up!" she yelled.

"Hey now, I'm only joking," he said walking over and running his hands through her hair.

He turned back to me and offered out his hand for a handshake.

"Well, It's nice to meet you, Travis," he said, "My name is Mathew but you can just call me Matt."

"It's good to meet you, Matt," I said shaking his hand.

"Dinners ready!" Rachel called out.

We all got up and walked over to the table where what looked like a feast was on the table. There were dinner rolls, communal vegetable bowls, rice, meat, sauce and even an ice-cream cake in the middle of the table.

"Mum!" Laura said with an att.i.tude, "You really didn't have to cook like this just because Travis was coming over."

Her smart self was replaced by a more childlike self. Someone who was embarra.s.sed by her parents' actions. I couldn't help but laugh, and her parents laughed along as well. We all sat there enjoying the food as talk was made across the table.

"So you know about my job," Rachel said, "Why don't I let Mathew talk to you about his job?"

"Oh," he stuttered, caught off guard with some food in his mouth. He finished chewing before he continued.

"Well, I look after other people's money," he said, "I give their money to companies and then the companies give them money back with interest."

"Honey," Rachel said, "Ease up with the vocabulary."

"No," I interjected, "It's okay, I understand what investing is. So, you're an investment banker then?" I asked.

Rachel and Matt were taken aback but quickly answered me.

"Wow," Matt said, "Laura was right about all of the stuff she was saying about you, you really are just as smart as her. Maybe even smarter." He poked his tongue out at Laura and she did the same in return.

"Tell me, Travis," he started, "How much do you know about investment banking?"

"Well, from what I've read, you take peoples money and invest it into companies like Google, you buy shares of the company and if they perform well, the price of the shares goes up."

He laughed for a moment, "Sort of like that, but there are companies that do issue shares and companies that don't issue shares, Google is one of those companies that hasn't issued any shares but a few friends of mine are hoping they take on shareholders after their earnings report this year."

What a horrible mistake I just made. I talked about Google and shares when they weren't even out yet. To be honest, I had no memory of when Google started to issue shares, I just used it as an example of an incredibly wealthy company.

"Oh okay," I said, "I guess I don't know as much about investing as you do then. You are the expert." I laughed my comment away nervously.

We continued eating dinner and making small talk and before long we had finished, and it was getting late.

"So how are you getting home tonight Travis?" Mathew asked.

"I don't live too far from here," I said, "It's only about two kilometers so I'll just walk it."

"Two kilometers!" Rachel spluttered.

"You're not walking home at 8:00 pm for 2 kilometers, your parents would probably kill me," Matt said, "That's okay. Get packed up and I'll drive you home."

* * * * * *

The next day I was exciting. Laura talked non stop about the media storm that was about to destroy this school. She seemed to have the smarts of her father and the pa.s.sion and drive of her mother. We said our goodbyes and I made my way home getting ready to cook dinner.

June had a shorter shift at work today and she had bought home all the ingredients. She'd insisted on watching me cook and her mouth gaping open the entire time. I'd finished the bruschetta and her eyes lit up when she tried one.

"This is amazing Travis!" she said, "This taste absolutely wonderful. I have to take this out for your parents to try," she said.

I put one on my plate and June took the rest of them out to my parents as I continued working on the Pasta Bolognese. Tonight, was the first night since my mother and I had the heart to heart conversation the other day, that she was sitting in the lounge room with my father without being consumed with dinner already served. They weren't making much small talk, but it was at least a step towards civility. My main hope was that after eating all of this fresh food, my parents would decide that fresh food was better than microwaved dinners and start cooking real food from now on. That's why I had to make it perfect. Once I had finished plating up everyone's food, I had a quick fork of food myself and it was probably, one of the best dishes I'd ever cooked. It wasn't cooked with love, more like desperation. The cooking of desperation tasted amazing. Of course, it didn't taste as good as the food Rachel had cooked the night before. I don't think I'd ever be able to match up to her in the cooking game.

I put the lemon cake mix into the oven and set the timer for an hour and then June and I took everyone's plates out into the lounge room. We all sat there eating with the reality TV show playing in the background.

"Wow," my mother said, "This really is good. They taught you to do this in school?"

"Yeah," I lied, "They said it was important that we knew how to cook healthy dinners when we grew up."

"Well," my father chimed in, "It does taste really good. I'd say it even tastes better than your grandmothers cooking but don't tell her I said that."

"My mother used to always cook Italian food for us, it brings me back to those days. This is really good."

"Travis is incredibly intelligent," June said, "I'm proud of him for learning all of this stuff, he's going to grow up and be a really important person someday."

"Although," my father started, "You don't really need to learn how to cook, you've just got to make sure that you marry a woman who actually knows her way around the kitchen. Then you can eat like a king."

"You know Travis," my mother said, "This pasta would be really good with a nice red wine." She winked at me with a smile.

"If you want wine then go and get some," my dad said.

"Oh, no it was just a joke," My mother replied, "There isn't any."

"What do you mean there isn't any?" he asked, "Did you drink it all already?"

"No, it's not that, it's just that I've stopped drinking," My mother said, a little timidly.

"Well if you've stopped drinking then why did you say that there was none left?" he asked.

My father started to look frustrated. I thought he wanted her to quit drinking, so I didn't know why he was getting annoyed.

"Well, Travis and I had a little chat the other day," She started.

'Shut up you idiot'

"And I decided to stop drinking, so we threw it all away so that I wouldn't be tempted by anything."

No one had any time to react, nor did we see the moment my fathers' plate left his hands and smashed against the wall. Pasta sauce splattered across the wall and floor while shards of the porcelain plate flew throughout the room. My father had stood up from his chair and started breathing heavily.

"YOU THREW IT ALL OUT!? He asked angrily, "DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH f.u.c.kING MONEY IT COSTS TO FEED YOU PATHETIC LITTLE ADDICTION AND I'M THE ONE PAYING FOR IT!"

He stopped momentarily to catch his breath before continuing.

"I'M WORKING HARD DAY IN DAY OUT AND THE MONEY THAT I'M EARNING, SPENDING ON YOU, MY WIFE! AND YOU'RE JUST p.i.s.sING THAT MONEY DOWN THE DRAIN!"

"W-Well it's just," My mother started, "Travis and I made the decision together that we were going to start making small changes around here, starting with my alcohol."

"DOES TRAVIS EARN THE f.u.c.kING MONEY FOR THE ALCOHOL?" He asked.

June stood up from her chair and rushed over to my father who was standing over my mother.

"Hey, calm down!" she timidly muttered.

"YOU STAY OUT OF THIS!" he yelled.

He raised his arm quickly and backhanded her out of his path. June fell to the side screaming as she crashed into the floor holding her face.

"JUNE!" I yelled.

I ran to her side and help her roll over straight. She was holding her face which was now bright red from my father hitting her. She was sobbing quietly, then I heard a loud crack and then a loud scream of pain. I turned to see my father again, standing over my mother like the first time. He had a clenched fist and my mother was on the floor holding her face with blood dripping down the left side of her face.

"Take this as a lesson Travis," he started with his back toward me, "women need to learn their f.u.c.king place. You're going to have to do this too one day if you surround your self with a bunch of useless b.i.t.c.hes!"

He bent down to pick my mother up but the front of her dress and threw her back into the chair. He pulled his arm back and then swung down and punched her in the face again. Again, loud ear-piercing screams of my mother rang throughout the house. I jumped up from June's side and ran over to him.

"STOP IT, DAD!" I yelled, "YOU'RE OVER REACTING. YOU DON'T NEED TO BEAT HER!"

I grabbed a hold of his leg and he turned around and kicked me towards the wall. My back cracked as I hit the wall and dropped to the ground.

"YOU DID THIS YOU LITTLE s.h.i.t!" he yelled, "YOU'RE THE ONE WHO TOLD HER TO TIP THE ALCOHOL OUT WEREN'T YOU! YOU'RE THE REASON THAT YOUR MOTHER IS BLEEDING RIGHT NOW!"

He walked over to me as I struggled to stand back up and without seeing much, I felt a strong sense of pain in my stomach. My father had kicked me as hard as he could in the stomach with his steel-capped boots. My whole body started convulsing. I dropped back to the ground, holding my stomach and desperately trying to breathe in some air. This body wasn't capable of withstanding the full force of an adult kick to the stomach. Especially with steel-capped boots. My body desperate for air, I turned to the ground and started vomiting. I couldn't tell if there was blood mixed in with the half-digested pasta Bolognese that now covered the floor. My body finally had what it needed for a small moment of reprieve and took in a large gust of air. Then I turned to the ground and started vomiting again. The pain was too intense.

I felt something on the top of my head and then, my head was thrust into the pile of vomit on the ground. There was a heavy force on top of me and I could see that my father had his foot planted on my face, pushing it into the vomit.

"NOW LOOK WHAT YOU'VE DONE YOU LITTLE f.u.c.k!" he yelled, "YOU'VE THROWN UP ALL OVER THE FLOOR YOU WEAK SACK OF s.h.i.t!"

Suddenly the weight was lifted off me and I raised my head to see that June had tried to tackle him off me. I still struggled to breathe, spitting out the left-over vomit in my mouth and trying to stand up. My father had June by the throat and was forcing her backward through the room.

"GET OFF HER!" I yelled and wrapped my arms around his leg and lifted him off balance sending them both toppling to the ground.

My father pushed himself up, stepping on Junes legs as he crossed the room back to me and picked me up by the t-shirt. He lifted me off the ground and threw me at the wall. My body was like a ragdoll. My limbs were failing as I was flying through the air and when I hit the wall I dropped into a heap.

"You've got a real f.u.c.king att.i.tude problem lately!" he said.

"Stop!" I pleaded.

He picked me up by the face and lifted me up again into the air. With what felt like his full force he slammed my face into the wall and grabbed my T-shirt with his other hand. He used his grip on my T-shirt to hold my body in place while he forced my head hard against the wall.

"I'M GETTING REALLY f.u.c.kING SICK OF YOU PEOPLE!" he yelled, "I WISH YOU WERE NEVER BORN!" he yelled at me, "I WISH I'D NEVER MET YOUR b.i.t.c.h OF A MOTHER!"

He pulled my head back slightly and slammed it into the wall again. Was tonight going to be the night? My last night on Earth? Was I going to die here in the body of a nine-year-old boy? Being ruthlessly beaten by my father without having the strength to defend myself. It wasn't fair. I didn't want any of this. I didn't ask to be transported back in time. I didn't ask to be stuck in the body of this nine-year-old boy. I didn't want to be with these people. I was happy with my life the way it was before. Sure, I had a c.r.a.ppy job, but I was playing my video games, having fun with my friends, reading lots of books, going out to parties, I had a perfectly normal and happy life. It wasn't fair. Why was I here? Why did it have to be me? Why was the universe making this happen to me? I didn't do anything wrong. It's not my fault, I haven't done anything wrong. It's not fair.

"LET HIM GO!" June cried.

She had her hands clasped around the arm which held my face against the wall, pulling as hard as she could but she wasn't strong enough. My mother launched up from the chair. Blood was streaming down the side of her face now; a large gash had opened on the top of her head from where he had punched her.

"GET OFF HIM!" she screamed and tried to grab his other arm.

Even with both of their strength, they were unable to pry his grip away from me as I hung hopelessly from his hands.

"GET OFF HIM!" It was almost like a symphony. It's hard to describe. They both shouted the same thing at him over and over again, trying to force him away from me. I started to take notice of the pattern and eagerly awaited for the next voice each time.

"GET OFF HIM!"

"Get off him!"

"get off him."

'get off him.'

He pulled me off the wall and without saying anything raised his arm and punched me with full force across the side of the face. That's the last thing that I remember. Before everything went black, all I saw was the rage in my fathers' eyes as his fist connected with my face.

Beep, beep, beep, beep, beep.

The sound pulled me out from what I thought was my own death. From what I thought was the end of my life. There was nothing, and then, there was the beeping.

Beep, beep, beep.

I opened my eyes slowly. My vision was blurry. I could hear the loud sobbing of my mother. Vaguely looking around, June was on the floor lying down and crying, stroking my hair. My mother. My head was rested in my mothers' lap as she stroked my back up and down.

Beep, beep, beep.

My lemon cake was ready.