Yes/Chad

Willowgrove, Illinois, United States of America - April 3rd 3:25 pm

You sit in your car, trying to calm down before you go into the middle school to support your little sister Emily at her cheerleading practice. You just saw that bitch, Dana, with her new boyfriend . . . your once best friend Gary. It seemed so cliche, betrayed by your best friend and girlfriend. What hurt the most is that it had been going on so long . . . almost the whole two years you'd been together. How could you have been so blind? She was fucking him while she would barely even give you the occasional handjob. Fucking cunt!

You fume a while longer, smacking your hands repeatedly into the steering wheel of the five year old sedan. It was your mother's gift to you for passing your driving exam . . . but it benefits her more than you. Now you are the family chauffeur. You drive the family everywhere. You suppose it makes sense though. Your mother works hard to provide for the family, it's really the least you can do to help out where you can. You sigh, and shake your head. You get out of the car, pushing down the remnants of rage from reliving your breakup with Dana. You shut the door, and upon taking a step hear the ringing of metal as something shiny flashes away from your foot. It's not acting as though you'd kicked it . . . more like you stepped on it, and it followed your foot into the air a short distance before falling off.

You walk the five foot or so to the object, and look down at it to satisfy your curiosity . . . a ring. You kneel down to get a closer look. It's a wide, man's ring that appears to be made of silver, platinum, or white gold with yellow gold encasing it, creating the effect of two bands of gold surrounding a band of silver in the middle. What looks like Arabic characters stand out in yellow gold relief along the silver band, which you cannot read of course. (اسأل وأنه يجب أن أقول اسمي. نعم.) It appears to be a very nice wedding band. Someone is probably missing it. You pick it up and start to put it in your pocket. It wouldn't hurt to try it on, though. It seems a little big, but when you slide it on your right ring finger it seems to fit perfectly. You chuckle at what you assume to be an optical illusion. You look at your hand with the ring on it, admiring the look, when suddenly you hear a horn blare.

Stepping quickly out of the way, you see Gary and Dana peel past you in his brand new Mustang as Dana yells out the window "Out of the way, Looser!" Your rage wells once more as you glare after them. They have absolutely no reason to be at the middle school. They followed you just to torture you! Fucking bitch! You are easily as popular as either of them, and in the school sides were forming. Civil war loomed among the popular kids of Thomas Jefferson High School. You try to calm yourself as much as you can, and head into the middle school gymnasium to support your sister.

You sit in the bleachers with the parents of the other kids as you watch the girls doing their routines. You can't help but notice the budding young ladies as they do their cartwheels and flips, and find yourself getting aroused. Way too young Chad, you think to yourself, down boy. You still can't help but admire their figures as they continue their practice. Before you know it, practice is over and Emily is running over to you.

"Hey Chad," she beams, "did you see me?"

"Yeah, your were great out there kiddo."

"I'm getting better all the time!"

"I can see that. Are you ready to go?"

A strange look comes over her face for the briefest of instants, then she cheerfully says, "Yep."

You start to walk out of the gym when you notice she doesn't have her gym bag.

"Hey," you say casually, "are you forgetting something?"

The same sort of shadow crosses her face again, then she says, "Yeah, I forgot . . . " She seems to be searching her memory for what she forgot.

"Your gym bag?"

"Oh yeah," she says blushing, "I'll just go get that." She runs over to her bag, grabs it, and runs back.

"That's not like you, Em," you say. "I've never known you to forget your bag."

"Yeah," she says, "I never forget it. My phone's in here!"

You laugh heartily. "God forbid you should forget that right?"

Once again the strange look briefly crosses her face, then she clutches her bag tight to her chest. Her voice takes on a very serious tone suddenly as she says, "Yes, God forbid."

A little weirded out, the two of you make your way back to the car. She keeps the bag clutched tight to her chest, opens the back door, takes her phone out and tosses the bag in the back. Clutching the phone to her breast as if her life depended on it she gets in the front seat, and buckles her seat belt. You climb into the driver's seat and look her over for a bit. She's acting really weird.

"Hey Em," you say in a concerned voice, "what's wrong?"

"God forbids me to forget my phone."

"What," you start to laugh, but upon seeing the serious look on her face the laugh dies in your throat. "You know that's just an expression right?"

The brief look on her face again, then you see her visibly relax. "Yeah . . . man, what's wrong with me today?"

"Nothing some food won't fix. I'll get us some Subway on the way back."

"Sounds good."

On the way to the restaurant she tells you all about her day, and you give her the rose-tinted-glasses version of yours. All the while you are trying to figure out her strange behavior. There are no further occurrences on the way to the restaurant. You order sandwiches for the family, having memorized everyone's favorites, and head back to the car then back to your house. You bring in the sandwiches and Emily brings in her bag. You set the sandwiches on the counter as Emily goes upstairs to take a shower. Suddenly Gwen, your younger sister by a year, skates by you on her board, rifles through the bag, and grabs her sandwich.

"Couldn't you just wait and eat with the rest of the family for once, Gwen?" you ask your troublesome sister, knowing she'll give you a 'Fuck you, poser' as she skates out the door.

The same look you saw on Emily's face before crosses Gwen's face. "Okay, I guess so."

Your jaw drops as you see her kick up her board and sit down at the dining table. This was definitely not normal.

What's going on?

• Something wonderful
• Something terrible
• You're obviously going insane
• You're just imagining it

Author Note:

The inscription اسأل وأنه يجب أن أقول اسمي. نعم. was accomplished through online sources and google translate. If anyone knows Arabic and can give me a better way to say "Ask a question and they must say my name. Yes." I'm very open to improving this ramshackle Arabic.