Disclaimer: I do not own Back To The Future or its characters. Characters
from the films are copyright Universal Studios and U-Drive Productions. All
other characters are my own creation and may not be used without
permission.
~*~*~*~*~
"Megan Martina McFly!" I opened one eye and groaned loudly in response. My bed was too nice and warm to get up yet; just another five minutes. That would slowly turn into ten, and ten would become fifteen, until I was late for school. It was 7:25 AM - way too early for my liking. But I couldn't afford a fourth tardy slip in a row. I pulled the blanket over my head and shut my eyes again. Maybe I could dream myself through the day . . . through my whole high school life . . .
"Get up AT ONCE, young lady!" My aunt's harsh shrill voice rang up the stairs again. It sent shivers down my spine, coupled with a horrible pang in my stomach that I had to face another day of hassle. I kicked off my covers and rolled onto the floor with a thud. My head hit the leg of my desk as I fell. Swearing loudly, I got to my feet and wandered aimlessly into my en suite bathroom. It took ten minutes for the cold shower to sting my skin to life. I grabbed some inside-out black baggy jeans and drowsily dragged them on, watching my high-tops lace themselves as I dressed. My new Café Eighties jacket was a little too big for me. I pressed the button flashing on the inside label and it adjusted to become a fitted top. Racing down the corridor to the stairs, I slid down the banister and landed in our kitchen.
Aunt Marlene glowered at me as I sat down. She slammed a plate of bacon down on the table so hard it made the crockery jump. I couldn't see my father, who was buried behind the real estate section of the Hill Valley Telegraph, but I smiled at him anyway. He turned back the corner of the newspaper and nodded curtly.
"Hey, Dad," I said quietly, knowing I wouldn't get a response. "Hey, Aunt Marlene." She gave me another evil look and pretended to ignore me. I tried again. "Hey."
"What do you say, Megan?" she replied in a pinched voice.
I was confused. "What do you mean?"
She walked towards me slowly and leaned over, until her plump face filled my entire field of vision. "What have I spent the last seventeen years of my life telling you to say in the mornings?" she exploded. Flecks of her spittle hit me in the face like wet bullets.
"Good morning, Aunt Marlene. Thank you for the breakfast," I muttered. She scowled and hurriedly walked back into the kitchen, her heels clicking on the floor. I picked up the tub of granola, poured myself some cereal, threw in a little fresh fruit and started eating. The smell of hot coffee wafted into the breakfast room, slowly driving me mad. I dropped my spoon into the empty cereal bowl and wandered into our huge kitchen. Stainless steel appliances made a cacophony of bleeps as I summoned down the coffee dispenser. The dark liquid hissed forth into a white polystyrene cup, playing an electronic melody when it was done.
I glanced up at the clock; it was 8AM already! I downed the coffee in one, grabbed my computer bag and skateboard and ran out the door. My aunt's yells were following me down the street but I pretended not to hear her. I raced out of Hilldale and grabbed onto the back of a passing vehicle. Buildings and people whistled past in a blur of Friday morning colour and sound. The car missed my turning and I caught the tail of some rusty pickup, ducking down to make sure I wasn't seen. As the wind whipped through my short brown hair, a thrill of freedom coursed down my spine.
People who've lived in this town a long time say I'm the female version of my grandpa, Marty McFly. He died when I was a kid, so I don't really remember him much. According to my father, it was some kind of freak accident. That totally appealed to me when I first found out; I'd spend hours holed up in my bedroom, making up games and writing stories about how he was a superhero or a spy, who died defending his country and got killed by some bad guy. The Adventures in Time and Space of Marty McFly was a comic book I read over and over. It was almost like my Bible. I still have all the old copies, tattered and dog-eared, with my six-year-old chicken scrawl in the speech bubbles and the painstaking faded frames, buried in the attic somewhere.
Since I got to high school, I've talked to Grandpa Marty more than my mom. He understands stuff better, as though he actually remembers how tough it is to be a teenager. I can always get a straight answer out of him. He doesn't talk down to me or treat me like a child; he just listens and then gives me good sound advice. I wish he hadn't died so soon; I'd have liked to have known him in real life. But Anna, whose family are really religious, says that I'll see him again one day, and I like to believe her.
I was so wrapped up in thoughts of my grandpa that I almost missed the turn- off for Hill Valley High School. As I pulled up outside the old building I glanced at my watch. 8:25 - made it, for once. I leapt off my board and stamped on the tail, sending it flying into the air. Just as I caught it and began to strap it onto my book bag, Anna and Leah's hoverboards ground to a halt on either side of me.
"You still ridin' the old wheels?" There was more than a note of sarcasm in Leah's voice on the last word. She flicked her bright green hair, crossed her glittering eyes and stuck her tongue out at me. I responded likewise. Leah could be a bit mean at times, but she still made me laugh. She's always been the most daring of the gang; you only need to look at her to know that. The thing that makes me jealous is that her parents don't care about the way she acts, as long as she does her homework and chores and sticks to her curfew. I know my aunt would hit the roof if I came home looking like Leah. She already hates that I got my hair cut short. Sometimes I just want to grab a bottle of blue hair dye and get seven studs in one ear, just to see how much she'd freak out. It'd be pretty funny watching her almost have a coronary.
Suddenly there were footsteps coming down the corridor towards the entrance. Mr Landstrick was approaching fast, clearly on patrol for latecomers. I could see the guy's head shining in the flickering hall lights. A horrible taste settled in my mouth. There was only one thing left that we could try, and I hoped to God it would work.
"Quick! Hide!" I mouthed. I shoved the others roughly into a nearby hedge, ignoring their muffled yells, then darted in there with them. The leaves kept hitting me in the face and one branch caught me on the cheek. I bit back the word that was on the tip of my tongue. If Landstrick found me, that would be it. The blood from the cut was already starting to stick my fingers to my face. How was I going to explain this to my family? But I couldn't waste time worrying about that now. Already the greenery was tickling my nose. I choked back the urge to sneeze, my hearing at Defcon 5 to pick up the echo of Landstrick's approach.
"Are you sure we should be doing this?" Anna's black-rimmed eyes were wide and scared. She clutched her books tighter to her chest. I wondered if she'd rather get in trouble than even think about breaking the rules. "I mean, I know Landstrick's got it in for you and all, Meg, but . . ." Her voice tailed off and she looked up at me like a lost puppy. I sighed heavily. She always knew exactly how to manipulate me into wrecking the plan. But not this time; I wasn't going to let myself get caught.
"We should if you want to see graduation," I muttered through clenched teeth. The leaves were really bugging me now. I brushed them away from my face and revealed a gap in the hedge. All three of us leaned forward, peering out onto the courtyard of the school. I couldn't see Landstrick anywhere. "Maybe he's gone," I whispered. The seconds seemed to drag themselves out into an agonising wait. My nerves were torn to shreds as I started to nibble at my too-short nails, not realising what I was doing. After another moment of eerie silence, I beckoned to the others. "I think the coast's clear."
Leah nodded at me forcefully, as though she wanted me to leave her alone. I noticed she had her hand over her nose and was breathing through her mouth. That could only mean one thing. Her allergies were acting up again, and she hadn't taken out her nose ring. "Oh, great," I muttered. This was all we needed. I leaned over towards Leah and turned her face to me. "How much longer can you hold it in?"
"I don't . . ." Leah didn't have time to finish her sentence. She erupted with a sneeze that sent the hedge rustling like a paper bag. Anna and I flinched away with identical looks of disgust on our faces. Then Leah sneezed again, louder this time, and again. She couldn't stop! I glanced at Anna, who was biting her lower lip. She looked terrified. I could see my reflection in her eyes, and I knew I was wearing a similar expression. But it wasn't Leah's sneezing that was making me freak out. I could hear squeaking shoes on the linoleum floor of the corridor. Someone was running towards the entrance. The same shoes thundered down the front steps, then stopped for a moment. I wasn't thinking straight; my brain was way too mixed up to think of anything other than getting the others out of there. I didn't care about what my aunt was gonna say when I got home.
"RUN!" I yelled at Anna. She stared at me for a second, then grabbed Leah's jacket sleeve and ran out from behind the hedge. A pair of polished brown lace-ups tore round the corner of the building after them. I was close enough to see the wearer's face reflected in the shoes. "Aw, jeez," I muttered - it was Landstrick! He'd been looking for an excuse to get me since I'd started at Hill Valley High. Rumour was that he'd been cryogenically frozen way back in the Noughts, just so he'd get the chance to terrorise every McFly who ever went to HVHS.
I didn't have any choice. My feet seemed to be jet-powered as I shot out through the hedge, crashing into Landstrick and landing on top of him. The colour flooded out of my face as I realised what I'd done. Now I was gonna get it in the neck - twice! - for sure. I got to my feet quickly and glowered at Landstrick as he heaved his bulk off the ground. God, I hated that guy so much. All he ever did was put me down and claim I was just as worthless as the rest of my family. Grandpa Marty says the way to beat ignorant people is to outthink them, and the way to beat arrogant people is to appeal to that arrogance and use it against them, but it's the people who are ignorant and arrogant that are the toughest to deal with. And Landstrick was one of those people.
I could feel the blood flowing to my hands as the desire to hit him rose from deep within me. Taking a deep breath, I looked down at the concrete path and shuffled my toe like a little kid. Best to play up the naïve innocent role as best I could; there was a slight chance it might work. I glanced up at him, sniffing a little.
"Stop being so pathetic, Miss McFly." Landstrick's chilling voice was so sharp you could have sliced cucumber with it. "I know your little game, young lady. That's four tardies in a row, I believe. You're well on your way to beating your grandfather's record by now. He was a slacker too, just like your no-good father and your idiot great-grandfather. When your aunt was here I thought the females of your line might be different, but you've proved she was an anomaly.
"I see you've entered that hoverboarding contest, Miss McFly, and the little Battle of the Bands thing. Why do you even bother? You've got about as much chance of winning either of those as a chicken has of learning to swim. No McFly has ever amounted to anything in the history of Hill Valley."
"That's a lie." I didn't mean to say what I was thinking; it just came out. Besides, Landstrick had been asking for me to fight back for the last four years. My eyes flashed with white-hot rage as I looked him in the eye. His plump red face was rapidly going purple with anger. I could tell he was dying to explode. But I was on a roll now, and nothing was going to stop me.
"Ever since there have been McFlys at this school, you've been putting them down." I didn't even pause for breath between sentences. "You treat us like we're nothing, like we don't deserve to exist. What did my family ever do to you to make you hate us so much?"
"That's another story, young lady, and it doesn't concern you . . ." Landstrick began, but I cut him off before he could make his next comment.
"And besides, there are McFlys who amounted to stuff in this place," I argued. "What about my great-grandpa and his novels? Doesn't that count as an achievement? What about my grandfather and his songwriting? What about my aunt when she went to Hollywood and got a job in the movie business?"
"Your great-grandfather's books all flopped after that first one," said Landstrick in a poisonous voice. "Your grandfather was a failure in the end too. And as I recall, your aunt's career collapsed after your mother died and she got lumbered with you." I could feel hot tears spiking my eyes, but I shook my head, determined to shut him out. He wasn't going to have the satisfaction of seeing me upset. "And don't give me your family's standard line about how history is going to change. It never does, Miss McFly, and it's time you realised that." He ruffled my hair as though I was a kid. "Now run along and get to class. I'm sure you wouldn't want to be in any more trouble, would you now?"
I stalked into the building, fuming inwardly. Landstrick was such a jerk! He made me feel as though I had a reputation that didn't exist. I wanted to kick the wall or a locker or something, just to vent my aggression. Then, as I walked through the door of my calculus class, I remembered what was in my book bag. I muttered an apology and slouched over to the only available seat, digging around for my computer as I sat down.
"Hey." I looked up from opening the textbook file at the sound of a familiar voice. Sitting next to me was Jake Phillips, my best friend and next door neighbour since I was six. We'd stayed over at each other's houses, swapped packed lunches and trading cards, and tried our first cigarettes together and hated it. I suddenly felt a lot better about my day, even though I didn't know why.
"Hi, Jake," I said under my breath, looking into his turquoise eyes. I couldn't make contact with them for more than three seconds or so; it was too dangerous. Swallowing heavily, I turned back to the board and pretended to be taking notes. Why was I screwing up our friendship so much? The question kept bugging me for the rest of the lesson and all through English class, swirling in my brain uncontrollably.
I was thinking back to a time when Jake and I had kissed. It was weird, but ever since then I'd started to think about him in a different way sometimes. Of course, neither of us knew what we were doing back in seventh grade. It just sort of happened, the way that stuff does. And even though at first I was giggling and grossed out and it was like kissing my brother - that's how close Jake and I are - after a while it stopped being weird. It started to feel good. Sometimes, when I'm in the middle of something else, I get two conflicting images in my thoughts. There's Jake the guy who hid in my closet and played Space Zombies From Pluto with me, and Jake the guy with thick brown hair and soft lips. Just thinking about them made me want to kiss him again. I tried to put both visions out of my mind. But no matter what I did, they tickled and nagged and wouldn't go away.
Besides, Jake can't be interested in me that way. He's going out with Jessica Tannen, the head cheerleader. I can sort of see why he'd choose her; she's the prettiest and most popular girl in the school. But why she wants Jake is a total mystery to me. It's totally unheard-of for a cheerleader to go out with a non-jock, especially someone who her parents hate, just because he drives a four-by-four and wears black all the time. She isn't right for him. All that bothers her is her hair and make-up and clothes. Jake actually cares about issues and art and literature. He needs to date a fellow troubled creative soul, someone who understands him and knows him . . . someone like me.
Careful, Meg. There goes that imagination of yours again. Remember Aunt Marlene's always telling you that one day those crazy ideas will run away with you. Sometimes I wish she was right; that all my wild fantasies came true and I got out of this one-horse town. But even then I'd never be able to solve the mystery of why Jake stayed with Jessica.
I was still thinking about this when I was walking through the halls after English. Suddenly someone barged past and knocked into my shoulder, sending my notebooks flying down the hallway. I knew who it was without even turning around. Jessica's over-made-up face was staring at me. About three seconds of silence passed before she spoke.
"What are you looking at, butthead?" she spat. I didn't reply; my breath was too precious to waste on her. She bent down and picked up my computer- notebook. "I'm keeping this," she said, "because you were in my way - just like you always are." Her long golden blonde hair fell down past her shoulder blades, draping over the green and orange lettering on her white sweater. I wanted to yank chunks of those wavy locks out of her scalp - that was the payback I craved. She'd been hassling me since I started elementary school, just because of who we both were.
"You finished that homework for me yet?" she asked aggressively. I shook my head, knowing she'd let me have it now. Jessica had been making me do all her work for her - another McFly-Tannen tradition - since the day we got assigned our first book reports. She raised her fist as though she was about to hit me. Then her hand fell back to her side and she rolled her eyes. I was so grateful she hadn't rearranged my face that I opened my mouth to speak, but she cut me off.
"You're not worth the waste of energy, McFly. Get it to me first thing tomorrow," she said. "Not too early though. I've got a date tonight and I like to sleep in on Saturdays. Oh, by the way, your shoe's untied."
I looked down and she smacked me on my cut cheek. The sting hurt like hell, but I knew that was just a light touch compared to what would have happened if she'd punched me. "Don't be so gullible, McFly," she said. I started to walk to my locker, determined to get out of the situation, but she stuck out her foot and I went sprawling on the floor. There was a sudden bleeping melody echoing down the corridor and Jessica pulled her videophone goggles from her bag. She strapped them on and began talking. I couldn't hear what she was saying; probably telling her cronies about this stupid date and how she just got one over on that little nerd Meg McFly. The computer she'd taken fell from her hand and span across the linoleum, coming to a halt at my feet.
I glared at her back with pure, unbridled fury as I picked up the computer. Needing to let off some steam, I stormed over to my locker and punched in the code on the keypad. There was a few seconds' pause, and then the door opened with a hiss. "Welcome, Megan McFly," a computerised voice said by way of greeting. I reached inside, instinctively knowing where the thing I wanted was. It was a small journal with denim patterns printed on the cover. Everyone in school snubbed those kind of books; they all thought the standard issue sleek silver computers were better. But I secretly liked the old-fashioned way of writing, with paper and pen. I slammed the locker door shut and went out onto the steps. The milky autumn light shone down on me, mocking my dark mood. I sat down with a heavy sigh, flipped open the notebook, dated the page and began to write.
Grandpa Marty:
Well, it happened again. Jessica made me look like an idiot (thank God Jake wasn't around this time), and I couldn't do anything about it. I don't get it. I must have about a hundred times her brainpower, but she gets the better of me every time despite being a complete airhead.
And the worst thing is she's with Jake. That just kills me. I don't think she even really likes him. She just treats him like a trophy or something. Like since she's the most popular girl in the whole school, she deserves to have the best looking guy and everything. But when it comes down to it, he's just there to make her look good. Jessica Tannen couldn't love anyone as much as she loves herself.
Jake has to know that; he must do. So why does he even like her? Why does he put up with her? He deserves so much better.
Grandpa, you know I hardly ever ask favours of you. But maybe next time you and Mom are sitting around shooting the breeze with God, do you think you might mention Jessica and ask for some divine intervention? Nothing extraordinary or fancy; a hundred-pound anvil maybe. Actually make it five hundred pounds. She probably wouldn't feel anything less with her thick skull.
In short, whatever it takes. Any strings you could pull that might provide a little justice, a bit of balance, would be greatly appreciated.
~*~*~*~*~
The final bell rolled around before I knew it. I raced out of my last class and down the corridor towards the gym. My guitar was in my locker, so I stopped by quickly to get that. I skidded to a halt before it . . . and my mind went blank. I'd totally forgotten my combination! Let's see, let's see - think, Meg, think. I'd already been stressing out over the audition so much that this was the last thing I needed right now. And the more I panicked, the more frustrated I got with myself, and the more unable I was to remember the code.
"Sixteen, twenty-one, eight."
I turned to see Jake standing behind me, his eyes twinkling. "Thanks," I said, not looking at him as I typed in the numbers. The door swung open and I reached in for the guitar. It was a second-hand baby-blue Fender that I'd seen in a music shop during my sophomore summer. I had wanted it so much I'd worked two jobs to save up enough money for it. Ever since then I've been teaching myself how to play.
Suddenly I felt Jake's arms wrap round my shoulders in a tight bear hug. "Good luck today," he whispered. I could feel his warm sweet breath ruffling my hair. "Not that you need it; I just know you'll do great." He tweaked my earlobe playfully and sauntered out of the building, his worn leather jacket thrown over his shoulder. I watched in silence as he got into his old black Toyota four-by-four and roared off down the road, soaring into the stratosphere in seconds. I was feeling nine ways at once as I waited for my heart to stop pounding.
A pair of junior girls walked back, giggling and pointing. I wondered what they found amusing for a moment. As I turned to get the bass, I caught sight of myself in a stainless steel locker. My jaw was practically at my feet and I could see a crust of drool on my cheek. God, I looked a total mess. No wonder I couldn't get Jake; I'd been so caught up in thinking about him that I hadn't even noticed. I picked up the guitar and took off in the direction of the gym.
The others were already on stage when I arrived, breathless and panting. "What happened to you?" asked Dylan from behind the drums. I shrugged and muttered some excuse under my breath. The three guys just nodded their acceptance and turned back to their instruments. I'd been playing with the English Pigs since the beginning of the school year, but I never felt as though I belonged. As I checked that I was in tune, my eyes scanned the four watching judges: three men and a women, all in their late twenties or early thirties. I swallowed, feeling the way I always did about playing in front of people I didn't know. Terrified.
Ryan, the bassist, muttered the band's name into the mike and struck the first note. We were playing an old rock ballad called The Power Of Love. It had been my idea to use it as our audition track; I'd been crazy about the record ever since the first time I heard it. Gradually, as we grew more confident with the song, our playing improved. I glanced up at the judges, who seemed to be enjoying it, and felt sure we had it in the bag. Just as I began to really get lost in the music, I hit one of the strings too hard. There was a horrible twanging sound as it snapped in two. My face worked its way through the entire collection of reds in the paint shop as the others turned away from me. I felt like crying. The gig I'd wanted so much was slipping away from me, and I couldn't do anything about it.
"Have you got any spare strings?" whispered Mark. I shook my head without turning round. Why did I always screw everything up? I knew one rejection wasn't the end of the world, but it didn't stop me being angry with myself. The judges watched in stony silence as, one by one, the other instruments died away. Part of me wanted to throw down my guitar and just storm out. I looked down at the stage, knowing what was coming next.
"I'm sorry, guys," said the main judge as he stood up, "but if you can't be organised enough to prepare for something like this happening, I'm not sure you'll be reliable enough to play at the dance. Sorry." The guy's voice was a bit kinder on the second 'Sorry', as if he really was. Wordlessly we gathered up our instruments and trailed off stage. I could see the looks of defeat in the others' downcast eyes. Something told me that I could kiss playing in the English Pigs goodbye after this.
I was so mad that I didn't even skateboard home. Best to walk it off and avoid my aunt for as long as possible. I slouched through Courthouse Square, watching the tired old buildings sag in the late October afternoon sun. Everywhere seemed bored and annoyed - unless that was just me transferring my own bad mood to my surroundings. I had to get out of here, and there was only one place I could go to. My pace slowly quickened as my high-tops pounded the pavement, instinctively carrying me to my destination. Several people on the street turned to watch me running past in surprise; kids never ran anywhere in 2045. They all travelled by hoverboard or flying car.
Before I knew it, I'd reached Oak Park Cemetery. I walked reverently down the path towards it. Graveyards always gave me the creeps; I never really felt safe there until I got to where I was going. I speeded up unconsciously, thinking that if I hurried maybe I wouldn't disturb anybody else. The family plot wasn't too far from the entrance, underneath an old maple tree by the river. I walked over to it, looking at the headstones. The first ones I saw were George McFly and Lorraine Baines McFly, my great- grandparents. I said hey to them and scoured the rest of my ancestors' names. And then I spotted the inscription I was looking for.
MARTIN SEAMUS McFLY, BELOVED HUSBAND, FATHER AND GRANDFATHER. My grandpa. As if eight words could even come close to summing him up. I knelt down beside the grey stone and ran my fingers over the letters, my hand over my eyes. The silence that fell over the cemetery was deafening. I didn't speak; instead I willed my thoughts into the headstone, praying that he'd be able to hear me. How long I waited there, I don't know, but it wasn't long enough to get an answer. Maybe he was a little too busy right then. I shivered against the unusually bitter wind that suddenly whipped through the grass, pulling my old parka tighter around me. My hand reached into my pocket for my notebook before I realised what I was doing. Leave it, Meg; that can wait. I had all the time in the world to talk to him. But right now homework and dinner were calling me, and I couldn't avoid them - unless I wanted to be stuck in the house all weekend. I sniffled a little as I got up and turned back down the path.
I wasted the rest of that day on homework, dinner and TV. But something was stopping me from concentrating on even the most trivial things. I could feel myself wandering into daydreams over pages of French verbs and Pythagorean theorems. My focus wasn't with me. Maybe I was still stressed out over my failed audition, or I'd let Landstrick get to me too much that morning. Whatever it was, it was pulling me away from reality. I went to bed that night feeling dazed and confused. Something must have happened to me when I'd been in that cemetery, but what? I had an eerie feeling settling in me, some unknown intuition that told me big changes were going. I just didn't realise how big they would be back then.
~*~*~*~*~
"Megan Martina McFly!" I opened one eye and groaned loudly in response. My bed was too nice and warm to get up yet; just another five minutes. That would slowly turn into ten, and ten would become fifteen, until I was late for school. It was 7:25 AM - way too early for my liking. But I couldn't afford a fourth tardy slip in a row. I pulled the blanket over my head and shut my eyes again. Maybe I could dream myself through the day . . . through my whole high school life . . .
"Get up AT ONCE, young lady!" My aunt's harsh shrill voice rang up the stairs again. It sent shivers down my spine, coupled with a horrible pang in my stomach that I had to face another day of hassle. I kicked off my covers and rolled onto the floor with a thud. My head hit the leg of my desk as I fell. Swearing loudly, I got to my feet and wandered aimlessly into my en suite bathroom. It took ten minutes for the cold shower to sting my skin to life. I grabbed some inside-out black baggy jeans and drowsily dragged them on, watching my high-tops lace themselves as I dressed. My new Café Eighties jacket was a little too big for me. I pressed the button flashing on the inside label and it adjusted to become a fitted top. Racing down the corridor to the stairs, I slid down the banister and landed in our kitchen.
Aunt Marlene glowered at me as I sat down. She slammed a plate of bacon down on the table so hard it made the crockery jump. I couldn't see my father, who was buried behind the real estate section of the Hill Valley Telegraph, but I smiled at him anyway. He turned back the corner of the newspaper and nodded curtly.
"Hey, Dad," I said quietly, knowing I wouldn't get a response. "Hey, Aunt Marlene." She gave me another evil look and pretended to ignore me. I tried again. "Hey."
"What do you say, Megan?" she replied in a pinched voice.
I was confused. "What do you mean?"
She walked towards me slowly and leaned over, until her plump face filled my entire field of vision. "What have I spent the last seventeen years of my life telling you to say in the mornings?" she exploded. Flecks of her spittle hit me in the face like wet bullets.
"Good morning, Aunt Marlene. Thank you for the breakfast," I muttered. She scowled and hurriedly walked back into the kitchen, her heels clicking on the floor. I picked up the tub of granola, poured myself some cereal, threw in a little fresh fruit and started eating. The smell of hot coffee wafted into the breakfast room, slowly driving me mad. I dropped my spoon into the empty cereal bowl and wandered into our huge kitchen. Stainless steel appliances made a cacophony of bleeps as I summoned down the coffee dispenser. The dark liquid hissed forth into a white polystyrene cup, playing an electronic melody when it was done.
I glanced up at the clock; it was 8AM already! I downed the coffee in one, grabbed my computer bag and skateboard and ran out the door. My aunt's yells were following me down the street but I pretended not to hear her. I raced out of Hilldale and grabbed onto the back of a passing vehicle. Buildings and people whistled past in a blur of Friday morning colour and sound. The car missed my turning and I caught the tail of some rusty pickup, ducking down to make sure I wasn't seen. As the wind whipped through my short brown hair, a thrill of freedom coursed down my spine.
People who've lived in this town a long time say I'm the female version of my grandpa, Marty McFly. He died when I was a kid, so I don't really remember him much. According to my father, it was some kind of freak accident. That totally appealed to me when I first found out; I'd spend hours holed up in my bedroom, making up games and writing stories about how he was a superhero or a spy, who died defending his country and got killed by some bad guy. The Adventures in Time and Space of Marty McFly was a comic book I read over and over. It was almost like my Bible. I still have all the old copies, tattered and dog-eared, with my six-year-old chicken scrawl in the speech bubbles and the painstaking faded frames, buried in the attic somewhere.
Since I got to high school, I've talked to Grandpa Marty more than my mom. He understands stuff better, as though he actually remembers how tough it is to be a teenager. I can always get a straight answer out of him. He doesn't talk down to me or treat me like a child; he just listens and then gives me good sound advice. I wish he hadn't died so soon; I'd have liked to have known him in real life. But Anna, whose family are really religious, says that I'll see him again one day, and I like to believe her.
I was so wrapped up in thoughts of my grandpa that I almost missed the turn- off for Hill Valley High School. As I pulled up outside the old building I glanced at my watch. 8:25 - made it, for once. I leapt off my board and stamped on the tail, sending it flying into the air. Just as I caught it and began to strap it onto my book bag, Anna and Leah's hoverboards ground to a halt on either side of me.
"You still ridin' the old wheels?" There was more than a note of sarcasm in Leah's voice on the last word. She flicked her bright green hair, crossed her glittering eyes and stuck her tongue out at me. I responded likewise. Leah could be a bit mean at times, but she still made me laugh. She's always been the most daring of the gang; you only need to look at her to know that. The thing that makes me jealous is that her parents don't care about the way she acts, as long as she does her homework and chores and sticks to her curfew. I know my aunt would hit the roof if I came home looking like Leah. She already hates that I got my hair cut short. Sometimes I just want to grab a bottle of blue hair dye and get seven studs in one ear, just to see how much she'd freak out. It'd be pretty funny watching her almost have a coronary.
Suddenly there were footsteps coming down the corridor towards the entrance. Mr Landstrick was approaching fast, clearly on patrol for latecomers. I could see the guy's head shining in the flickering hall lights. A horrible taste settled in my mouth. There was only one thing left that we could try, and I hoped to God it would work.
"Quick! Hide!" I mouthed. I shoved the others roughly into a nearby hedge, ignoring their muffled yells, then darted in there with them. The leaves kept hitting me in the face and one branch caught me on the cheek. I bit back the word that was on the tip of my tongue. If Landstrick found me, that would be it. The blood from the cut was already starting to stick my fingers to my face. How was I going to explain this to my family? But I couldn't waste time worrying about that now. Already the greenery was tickling my nose. I choked back the urge to sneeze, my hearing at Defcon 5 to pick up the echo of Landstrick's approach.
"Are you sure we should be doing this?" Anna's black-rimmed eyes were wide and scared. She clutched her books tighter to her chest. I wondered if she'd rather get in trouble than even think about breaking the rules. "I mean, I know Landstrick's got it in for you and all, Meg, but . . ." Her voice tailed off and she looked up at me like a lost puppy. I sighed heavily. She always knew exactly how to manipulate me into wrecking the plan. But not this time; I wasn't going to let myself get caught.
"We should if you want to see graduation," I muttered through clenched teeth. The leaves were really bugging me now. I brushed them away from my face and revealed a gap in the hedge. All three of us leaned forward, peering out onto the courtyard of the school. I couldn't see Landstrick anywhere. "Maybe he's gone," I whispered. The seconds seemed to drag themselves out into an agonising wait. My nerves were torn to shreds as I started to nibble at my too-short nails, not realising what I was doing. After another moment of eerie silence, I beckoned to the others. "I think the coast's clear."
Leah nodded at me forcefully, as though she wanted me to leave her alone. I noticed she had her hand over her nose and was breathing through her mouth. That could only mean one thing. Her allergies were acting up again, and she hadn't taken out her nose ring. "Oh, great," I muttered. This was all we needed. I leaned over towards Leah and turned her face to me. "How much longer can you hold it in?"
"I don't . . ." Leah didn't have time to finish her sentence. She erupted with a sneeze that sent the hedge rustling like a paper bag. Anna and I flinched away with identical looks of disgust on our faces. Then Leah sneezed again, louder this time, and again. She couldn't stop! I glanced at Anna, who was biting her lower lip. She looked terrified. I could see my reflection in her eyes, and I knew I was wearing a similar expression. But it wasn't Leah's sneezing that was making me freak out. I could hear squeaking shoes on the linoleum floor of the corridor. Someone was running towards the entrance. The same shoes thundered down the front steps, then stopped for a moment. I wasn't thinking straight; my brain was way too mixed up to think of anything other than getting the others out of there. I didn't care about what my aunt was gonna say when I got home.
"RUN!" I yelled at Anna. She stared at me for a second, then grabbed Leah's jacket sleeve and ran out from behind the hedge. A pair of polished brown lace-ups tore round the corner of the building after them. I was close enough to see the wearer's face reflected in the shoes. "Aw, jeez," I muttered - it was Landstrick! He'd been looking for an excuse to get me since I'd started at Hill Valley High. Rumour was that he'd been cryogenically frozen way back in the Noughts, just so he'd get the chance to terrorise every McFly who ever went to HVHS.
I didn't have any choice. My feet seemed to be jet-powered as I shot out through the hedge, crashing into Landstrick and landing on top of him. The colour flooded out of my face as I realised what I'd done. Now I was gonna get it in the neck - twice! - for sure. I got to my feet quickly and glowered at Landstrick as he heaved his bulk off the ground. God, I hated that guy so much. All he ever did was put me down and claim I was just as worthless as the rest of my family. Grandpa Marty says the way to beat ignorant people is to outthink them, and the way to beat arrogant people is to appeal to that arrogance and use it against them, but it's the people who are ignorant and arrogant that are the toughest to deal with. And Landstrick was one of those people.
I could feel the blood flowing to my hands as the desire to hit him rose from deep within me. Taking a deep breath, I looked down at the concrete path and shuffled my toe like a little kid. Best to play up the naïve innocent role as best I could; there was a slight chance it might work. I glanced up at him, sniffing a little.
"Stop being so pathetic, Miss McFly." Landstrick's chilling voice was so sharp you could have sliced cucumber with it. "I know your little game, young lady. That's four tardies in a row, I believe. You're well on your way to beating your grandfather's record by now. He was a slacker too, just like your no-good father and your idiot great-grandfather. When your aunt was here I thought the females of your line might be different, but you've proved she was an anomaly.
"I see you've entered that hoverboarding contest, Miss McFly, and the little Battle of the Bands thing. Why do you even bother? You've got about as much chance of winning either of those as a chicken has of learning to swim. No McFly has ever amounted to anything in the history of Hill Valley."
"That's a lie." I didn't mean to say what I was thinking; it just came out. Besides, Landstrick had been asking for me to fight back for the last four years. My eyes flashed with white-hot rage as I looked him in the eye. His plump red face was rapidly going purple with anger. I could tell he was dying to explode. But I was on a roll now, and nothing was going to stop me.
"Ever since there have been McFlys at this school, you've been putting them down." I didn't even pause for breath between sentences. "You treat us like we're nothing, like we don't deserve to exist. What did my family ever do to you to make you hate us so much?"
"That's another story, young lady, and it doesn't concern you . . ." Landstrick began, but I cut him off before he could make his next comment.
"And besides, there are McFlys who amounted to stuff in this place," I argued. "What about my great-grandpa and his novels? Doesn't that count as an achievement? What about my grandfather and his songwriting? What about my aunt when she went to Hollywood and got a job in the movie business?"
"Your great-grandfather's books all flopped after that first one," said Landstrick in a poisonous voice. "Your grandfather was a failure in the end too. And as I recall, your aunt's career collapsed after your mother died and she got lumbered with you." I could feel hot tears spiking my eyes, but I shook my head, determined to shut him out. He wasn't going to have the satisfaction of seeing me upset. "And don't give me your family's standard line about how history is going to change. It never does, Miss McFly, and it's time you realised that." He ruffled my hair as though I was a kid. "Now run along and get to class. I'm sure you wouldn't want to be in any more trouble, would you now?"
I stalked into the building, fuming inwardly. Landstrick was such a jerk! He made me feel as though I had a reputation that didn't exist. I wanted to kick the wall or a locker or something, just to vent my aggression. Then, as I walked through the door of my calculus class, I remembered what was in my book bag. I muttered an apology and slouched over to the only available seat, digging around for my computer as I sat down.
"Hey." I looked up from opening the textbook file at the sound of a familiar voice. Sitting next to me was Jake Phillips, my best friend and next door neighbour since I was six. We'd stayed over at each other's houses, swapped packed lunches and trading cards, and tried our first cigarettes together and hated it. I suddenly felt a lot better about my day, even though I didn't know why.
"Hi, Jake," I said under my breath, looking into his turquoise eyes. I couldn't make contact with them for more than three seconds or so; it was too dangerous. Swallowing heavily, I turned back to the board and pretended to be taking notes. Why was I screwing up our friendship so much? The question kept bugging me for the rest of the lesson and all through English class, swirling in my brain uncontrollably.
I was thinking back to a time when Jake and I had kissed. It was weird, but ever since then I'd started to think about him in a different way sometimes. Of course, neither of us knew what we were doing back in seventh grade. It just sort of happened, the way that stuff does. And even though at first I was giggling and grossed out and it was like kissing my brother - that's how close Jake and I are - after a while it stopped being weird. It started to feel good. Sometimes, when I'm in the middle of something else, I get two conflicting images in my thoughts. There's Jake the guy who hid in my closet and played Space Zombies From Pluto with me, and Jake the guy with thick brown hair and soft lips. Just thinking about them made me want to kiss him again. I tried to put both visions out of my mind. But no matter what I did, they tickled and nagged and wouldn't go away.
Besides, Jake can't be interested in me that way. He's going out with Jessica Tannen, the head cheerleader. I can sort of see why he'd choose her; she's the prettiest and most popular girl in the school. But why she wants Jake is a total mystery to me. It's totally unheard-of for a cheerleader to go out with a non-jock, especially someone who her parents hate, just because he drives a four-by-four and wears black all the time. She isn't right for him. All that bothers her is her hair and make-up and clothes. Jake actually cares about issues and art and literature. He needs to date a fellow troubled creative soul, someone who understands him and knows him . . . someone like me.
Careful, Meg. There goes that imagination of yours again. Remember Aunt Marlene's always telling you that one day those crazy ideas will run away with you. Sometimes I wish she was right; that all my wild fantasies came true and I got out of this one-horse town. But even then I'd never be able to solve the mystery of why Jake stayed with Jessica.
I was still thinking about this when I was walking through the halls after English. Suddenly someone barged past and knocked into my shoulder, sending my notebooks flying down the hallway. I knew who it was without even turning around. Jessica's over-made-up face was staring at me. About three seconds of silence passed before she spoke.
"What are you looking at, butthead?" she spat. I didn't reply; my breath was too precious to waste on her. She bent down and picked up my computer- notebook. "I'm keeping this," she said, "because you were in my way - just like you always are." Her long golden blonde hair fell down past her shoulder blades, draping over the green and orange lettering on her white sweater. I wanted to yank chunks of those wavy locks out of her scalp - that was the payback I craved. She'd been hassling me since I started elementary school, just because of who we both were.
"You finished that homework for me yet?" she asked aggressively. I shook my head, knowing she'd let me have it now. Jessica had been making me do all her work for her - another McFly-Tannen tradition - since the day we got assigned our first book reports. She raised her fist as though she was about to hit me. Then her hand fell back to her side and she rolled her eyes. I was so grateful she hadn't rearranged my face that I opened my mouth to speak, but she cut me off.
"You're not worth the waste of energy, McFly. Get it to me first thing tomorrow," she said. "Not too early though. I've got a date tonight and I like to sleep in on Saturdays. Oh, by the way, your shoe's untied."
I looked down and she smacked me on my cut cheek. The sting hurt like hell, but I knew that was just a light touch compared to what would have happened if she'd punched me. "Don't be so gullible, McFly," she said. I started to walk to my locker, determined to get out of the situation, but she stuck out her foot and I went sprawling on the floor. There was a sudden bleeping melody echoing down the corridor and Jessica pulled her videophone goggles from her bag. She strapped them on and began talking. I couldn't hear what she was saying; probably telling her cronies about this stupid date and how she just got one over on that little nerd Meg McFly. The computer she'd taken fell from her hand and span across the linoleum, coming to a halt at my feet.
I glared at her back with pure, unbridled fury as I picked up the computer. Needing to let off some steam, I stormed over to my locker and punched in the code on the keypad. There was a few seconds' pause, and then the door opened with a hiss. "Welcome, Megan McFly," a computerised voice said by way of greeting. I reached inside, instinctively knowing where the thing I wanted was. It was a small journal with denim patterns printed on the cover. Everyone in school snubbed those kind of books; they all thought the standard issue sleek silver computers were better. But I secretly liked the old-fashioned way of writing, with paper and pen. I slammed the locker door shut and went out onto the steps. The milky autumn light shone down on me, mocking my dark mood. I sat down with a heavy sigh, flipped open the notebook, dated the page and began to write.
Grandpa Marty:
Well, it happened again. Jessica made me look like an idiot (thank God Jake wasn't around this time), and I couldn't do anything about it. I don't get it. I must have about a hundred times her brainpower, but she gets the better of me every time despite being a complete airhead.
And the worst thing is she's with Jake. That just kills me. I don't think she even really likes him. She just treats him like a trophy or something. Like since she's the most popular girl in the whole school, she deserves to have the best looking guy and everything. But when it comes down to it, he's just there to make her look good. Jessica Tannen couldn't love anyone as much as she loves herself.
Jake has to know that; he must do. So why does he even like her? Why does he put up with her? He deserves so much better.
Grandpa, you know I hardly ever ask favours of you. But maybe next time you and Mom are sitting around shooting the breeze with God, do you think you might mention Jessica and ask for some divine intervention? Nothing extraordinary or fancy; a hundred-pound anvil maybe. Actually make it five hundred pounds. She probably wouldn't feel anything less with her thick skull.
In short, whatever it takes. Any strings you could pull that might provide a little justice, a bit of balance, would be greatly appreciated.
~*~*~*~*~
The final bell rolled around before I knew it. I raced out of my last class and down the corridor towards the gym. My guitar was in my locker, so I stopped by quickly to get that. I skidded to a halt before it . . . and my mind went blank. I'd totally forgotten my combination! Let's see, let's see - think, Meg, think. I'd already been stressing out over the audition so much that this was the last thing I needed right now. And the more I panicked, the more frustrated I got with myself, and the more unable I was to remember the code.
"Sixteen, twenty-one, eight."
I turned to see Jake standing behind me, his eyes twinkling. "Thanks," I said, not looking at him as I typed in the numbers. The door swung open and I reached in for the guitar. It was a second-hand baby-blue Fender that I'd seen in a music shop during my sophomore summer. I had wanted it so much I'd worked two jobs to save up enough money for it. Ever since then I've been teaching myself how to play.
Suddenly I felt Jake's arms wrap round my shoulders in a tight bear hug. "Good luck today," he whispered. I could feel his warm sweet breath ruffling my hair. "Not that you need it; I just know you'll do great." He tweaked my earlobe playfully and sauntered out of the building, his worn leather jacket thrown over his shoulder. I watched in silence as he got into his old black Toyota four-by-four and roared off down the road, soaring into the stratosphere in seconds. I was feeling nine ways at once as I waited for my heart to stop pounding.
A pair of junior girls walked back, giggling and pointing. I wondered what they found amusing for a moment. As I turned to get the bass, I caught sight of myself in a stainless steel locker. My jaw was practically at my feet and I could see a crust of drool on my cheek. God, I looked a total mess. No wonder I couldn't get Jake; I'd been so caught up in thinking about him that I hadn't even noticed. I picked up the guitar and took off in the direction of the gym.
The others were already on stage when I arrived, breathless and panting. "What happened to you?" asked Dylan from behind the drums. I shrugged and muttered some excuse under my breath. The three guys just nodded their acceptance and turned back to their instruments. I'd been playing with the English Pigs since the beginning of the school year, but I never felt as though I belonged. As I checked that I was in tune, my eyes scanned the four watching judges: three men and a women, all in their late twenties or early thirties. I swallowed, feeling the way I always did about playing in front of people I didn't know. Terrified.
Ryan, the bassist, muttered the band's name into the mike and struck the first note. We were playing an old rock ballad called The Power Of Love. It had been my idea to use it as our audition track; I'd been crazy about the record ever since the first time I heard it. Gradually, as we grew more confident with the song, our playing improved. I glanced up at the judges, who seemed to be enjoying it, and felt sure we had it in the bag. Just as I began to really get lost in the music, I hit one of the strings too hard. There was a horrible twanging sound as it snapped in two. My face worked its way through the entire collection of reds in the paint shop as the others turned away from me. I felt like crying. The gig I'd wanted so much was slipping away from me, and I couldn't do anything about it.
"Have you got any spare strings?" whispered Mark. I shook my head without turning round. Why did I always screw everything up? I knew one rejection wasn't the end of the world, but it didn't stop me being angry with myself. The judges watched in stony silence as, one by one, the other instruments died away. Part of me wanted to throw down my guitar and just storm out. I looked down at the stage, knowing what was coming next.
"I'm sorry, guys," said the main judge as he stood up, "but if you can't be organised enough to prepare for something like this happening, I'm not sure you'll be reliable enough to play at the dance. Sorry." The guy's voice was a bit kinder on the second 'Sorry', as if he really was. Wordlessly we gathered up our instruments and trailed off stage. I could see the looks of defeat in the others' downcast eyes. Something told me that I could kiss playing in the English Pigs goodbye after this.
I was so mad that I didn't even skateboard home. Best to walk it off and avoid my aunt for as long as possible. I slouched through Courthouse Square, watching the tired old buildings sag in the late October afternoon sun. Everywhere seemed bored and annoyed - unless that was just me transferring my own bad mood to my surroundings. I had to get out of here, and there was only one place I could go to. My pace slowly quickened as my high-tops pounded the pavement, instinctively carrying me to my destination. Several people on the street turned to watch me running past in surprise; kids never ran anywhere in 2045. They all travelled by hoverboard or flying car.
Before I knew it, I'd reached Oak Park Cemetery. I walked reverently down the path towards it. Graveyards always gave me the creeps; I never really felt safe there until I got to where I was going. I speeded up unconsciously, thinking that if I hurried maybe I wouldn't disturb anybody else. The family plot wasn't too far from the entrance, underneath an old maple tree by the river. I walked over to it, looking at the headstones. The first ones I saw were George McFly and Lorraine Baines McFly, my great- grandparents. I said hey to them and scoured the rest of my ancestors' names. And then I spotted the inscription I was looking for.
MARTIN SEAMUS McFLY, BELOVED HUSBAND, FATHER AND GRANDFATHER. My grandpa. As if eight words could even come close to summing him up. I knelt down beside the grey stone and ran my fingers over the letters, my hand over my eyes. The silence that fell over the cemetery was deafening. I didn't speak; instead I willed my thoughts into the headstone, praying that he'd be able to hear me. How long I waited there, I don't know, but it wasn't long enough to get an answer. Maybe he was a little too busy right then. I shivered against the unusually bitter wind that suddenly whipped through the grass, pulling my old parka tighter around me. My hand reached into my pocket for my notebook before I realised what I was doing. Leave it, Meg; that can wait. I had all the time in the world to talk to him. But right now homework and dinner were calling me, and I couldn't avoid them - unless I wanted to be stuck in the house all weekend. I sniffled a little as I got up and turned back down the path.
I wasted the rest of that day on homework, dinner and TV. But something was stopping me from concentrating on even the most trivial things. I could feel myself wandering into daydreams over pages of French verbs and Pythagorean theorems. My focus wasn't with me. Maybe I was still stressed out over my failed audition, or I'd let Landstrick get to me too much that morning. Whatever it was, it was pulling me away from reality. I went to bed that night feeling dazed and confused. Something must have happened to me when I'd been in that cemetery, but what? I had an eerie feeling settling in me, some unknown intuition that told me big changes were going. I just didn't realise how big they would be back then.