Ansburry Tales

As he headed for home, Sam felt it again – that nervous, stomach turning sensation that plagued him for months. The cause of such feeling was twofold: his dad’s sudden desire to hound him about his every move, and the ever constant feeling of being watched. He hoped just once his dad would cancel his lessons or ease up a little, not so he didn’t have to learn karate, but because it would signify a change and perhaps that change would also mean the end to the prying eyes feeling. Unfortunately, he never got so lucky.

He never told anyone about these new developments. Sure, he made fun of his dad and had a few laughs about his over protective ways, but he never told others – he couldn’t tell others about the real fear lurking inside his chest. It wasn’t the cool thing to do. How exactly do you tell your friends this and not open yourself up for attack? It’s not like he could just slide it into conversation. “Hey you’re right guys, Cosmo’s Pizza is the best, and oh, by the way, I think I’m being watched.” No matter how he sliced it, the words just didn’t fit. Besides, he never saw anybody directly; maybe his paranoia was off base. But then why the feeling every time he stepped outside? Why did he feel like a thousand invisible eyes were focused on him? A few times, while cutting the grass over the summer, he swore he saw the neighbors staring. When he looked up, they looked away. Maybe they were never looking to begin with? Once, when he took the trash out, he thought he heard his name called, a whisper riding the cold wind. He saw no one. The cul-de-sac was empty, only the glare from the various street lights was seen. Was he going insane? Should he dare tell his friends and dad about this? He somehow knew the answer without having to say it. No way.

He rounded the corner onto Bohr Street and walked across his front lawn towards the porch. Just like previous days, his dad had left work early and was sitting on the steps waiting for him. Here we go again.

“How was school? Learn anything good?”

Sam said nothing. He just handed his dad the note.

“What’s this?”

“Just read it, and don’t go nuts.”

“I make no promises.” His dad read the note. “Detention? Sam, what did you do?”

“Nothing. Zach was farting in Civics class and distracted me.”

“Really, Sam?” His dad glared at him with wide eyes.

“Okay, fine. I wasn’t exactly paying attention either. But I wasn’t the only one. I think Mr. Hancock has it out me.” Sam two-stepped his way onto the porch and pushed through the front door. He just wanted to go to his room.

“Don’t turn your back on me, Sam. School is for learning, not goofing off.”

“Thanks for the tip. Like I didn’t know that.” Sam rolled his eyes as headed upstairs

“Don’t get smart with me. Get down here. We’re not done discussing this.”

“What now?” Sam followed his dad into the living room and sat on the couch.

“I don’t know – you tell me. Something obviously is going on.”

“C’mon, Dad – leave it alone. It’s only one detention. Okay, technically it’s two, but it’s one occurrence. You’re freaking out over nothing. It’s not gonna happen again.”

“Promise?”

“Yeah. You’re gonna have to pick me up late from school on Monday and Tuesday. I don’t know what you wantta do about karate.”

“I talk to Master Kim tonight and see what he recommends. Look, Sam, I’ve notice how preoccupied you’ve been lately too. I know things are changing in your life. Girls are now way more interesting, your body is changing, hormones are raging—”

“Dad, please stop.”

“I’m just saying that I know things are hard. You’re not in middle school anymore. You went from being the top class to the lowest all within one year. It’s tough. I know what you’re going through.”

“Somehow I don’t think you do.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure. Try me.”

“Maybe another time.”

“Sam, talk to me. It’s the karate isn’t it? I know – it’s not your thing. You’d rather do something else. I get that. It’s taking time away from your friends and you upset. Right?”

“That’s partly it. It’s not like I enjoy getting my butt kicked by smelly, sweaty idiots for an hour. I can think of, like, a thousand other things I’d rather do.”

“Point taken. But I’ve already paid for the entire year. Finish out this year and then we’ll see. Personally, I think you should give it more of an effort. Martial arts build strength and confidence, Master Kim says so.”

“I hate to break it to you, but being a coward is far easier.”

“Enough with the sarcasm, Sam. Now head upstairs and change. We’ll stop and grab dinner on the way.”

Sam wasn’t in the mood to discuss things further. It wasn’t like it made a difference anyway. His dad rarely changed his mind or agreed with him. In his fourteen years of existence, he could only remember one time when his dad actually saw things the same way, and that was over the fact that Charmin toilet paper was way easier on your butt than the cheap Dollar Store stuff. Somehow, he knew his dad wouldn’t see things his way this time. He grabbed his karate uniform from his bedroom floor and gave it a quick sniff and shake to make sure it wasn’t too ripe, and that all the Doritos were removed. After a few figure eights in the toilet and a quick change, he headed downstairs for what was sure to be another fun-filled evening – not.