No Alternative: Day 11

Word Count: 66,139

Summary of Events:

Drake and his friends met at an ice-cream shop to discuss the results of the research — which had mostly been done by Hayden — and it revealed that although the school Drake was enrolled in had more than one aviation program, all of them were already full for the autumn semester; as a result they committed to looking for other aviation programs in the area  . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

“So we’re not even going to talk about the potential worst-case scenario?” Rhys asked.

“We don’t want it to happen,” Hayden replied.

“Talking about it isn’t going to make it happen,” Rhys said. “Don’t be superstitious like that. Things happen and we can’t really do anything to control them. We need to have a plan if things go the way Drake’s parents want them to go because otherwise we’re idiots. It is no different than evacuation plans for fires and stuff.”

“Emergency preparedness,” Drake said.

“Thank you,” Rhys said. “I knew there was a name for it.”

“What do you suggest then?” Hayden asked.

“Well,” Rhys replied. “What we could do is Drake takes the course, gets a job wherever he can in Alberta and hopefully works summers there, but if not saves up every penny he can, and maybe once he graduates he can get a job somewhere in Alberta or maybe near Nanaimo because of Calder’s offer, and works in the restaurant industry somewhere that he’s paid full wages and overtime and whatnot and then is able to go to aviation school.”

“You do realise that pennies are long obsolete, right?” Drake asked.

“Fine, saves every nickel,” Rhys replied.

“But we want to help him get out,” Hayden said.

“And if he gets a job outside of his parents’ restaurant that will help him get out because it will give him something more on a résumé and more income because he’ll be getting full minimum wage,” Rhys replied.

Hayden didn’t look convinced. Drake felt badly. He didn’t want his friends to butt heads because of him, but he was pretty sure that they wouldn’t hear of him trying to get them to let him deal with the matter himself.

“I mean, not really all that much changes from the best-case scenario,” Rhys said. “It’s  just, well, school is expensive, and if we can’t get a refund from SAIT for his tuition — which is highly likely — then where are we getting him the money to attend somewhere else?”

“If I can’t get into the aviation stuff at SAIT then I’m just going to have to go for the cooking stuff,” Drake said. “I can’t afford to enrol anywhere else and it wouldn’t be fair to get you guys to pay my way through school, seeing how you both want to go to school for stuff too.”

“But we have to get you out of there!” Hayden protested.

“Look,” Drake said. “I’m sorry. I appreciate your efforts, all of you, but it’s all stacked against us. I’m going to have to take the cooking course and hope I can find a job at a different restaurant somewhere so that I don’t have to come back here.”

No Alternative: Day 10

Word Count: 60,001

Summary of Events:

Drake arrived home from hanging out with his friends and discovered that his parents had bought him a new car that was similarly as old as his previous car. He managed to sell it to the junk collector who'd taken his first one and used the profits — plus those from the other car and his savings — to buy the car he wanted during the lunch hour before returning to school just in time for a spare period  . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

“So this is the car?” Hayden asked, looking it over.

“Yep,” Drake replied. “And it’s mine.”

“It’s a sight better than that Cavalier,” Hayden said.

“Oh yeah,” Drake replied.

“So I bet you haven’t done any researching lately,” Hayden said.

“No,” Drake replied.

“Well, I looked into pilot licensing and it’s administered federally,” Hayden replied.

“So I can get a pilot’s license in Alberta and I don’t have to get it reissued in BC?” Drake asked.

“Exactly,” Hayden replied.

“So if that school has a flight program I can transfer there?” Drake asked.

“You most certainly can,” Hayden replied.

“You didn’t check that out?” Drake asked.

“No, I just read the whole Wikipedia page on pilot licensing in Canada,” Hayden replied. “There’s a lot of stuff involved in it, and a lot of different types of licenses. It’s worse than the variety of different licenses given for ground vehicles.”

“Oh,” Drake said. “Well, I’m sure I can at least get a basic license and work my way up from there.”

“Well you don’t need to know how to fly a Boeing seven seventy seven in order to fly a Cessna,” Hayden said.

“No,” Drake agreed. “And helicopters are completely different.”

“I’ll bet,” Hayden said. “How do you think your parents are going to react to this?”

“I don’t care,” Drake replied. “I wanted this car, and I’ve got it. Besides that Taurus stank inside.”

“It did?” Hayden asked. “Like what?”

“I don’t even know,” Drake replied. “I went inside it long enough to get the manual out and that was it. It was so gross. If I would’ve sat in there much longer — even with the door open — I might’ve puked.”

“Oh,” Hayden said.

“This one smells nice,” Drake said. “And I can cordlessly connect my phone and play music, and the AC works, and everything.”

“Hopefully you can take this to school,” Hayden said.

“I’m not letting them make me leave it at home,” Drake replied.

“Really?” Hayden asked.

“I own it,” Drake replied. “Besides, I don’t trust Dad wouldn’t try and sell it while I’m gone.”

“I’m impressed,” Hayden said. “I didn’t think you had this kind of fight in you.”

“What do you mean?” Drake asked.

“Just the way you reacted to your parents, and how you’ve often talked about them,” Hayden replied. “I thought they’d convinced you that they were more powerful and that you were best served to bow to them.”

“I’ve never liked how they’ve treated me,” Drake said. “Well, mostly how Dad’s treated me, Mom isn’t really mean to me, but she goes along with what Dad says no matter what.”

“So you’re finally taking a stand?” Hayden asked.

“Yes,” Drake replied.

“What changed?” Hayden asked.

“You guys told me you’d help me,” Drake replied. “And you’re even actively doing it with the helping me figure out where I should go to school and stuff.”

“If you would’ve asked us sooner we would’ve helped,” Hayden said. “We’re your friends.”

No Alternative: Day 9

Word Count: 54,019

Summary of Events:

Drake and his dad got into another argument over their conflicting desires for Drake's future — this time away from his mom — that ended when his mom came into the room, as Drake didn't want to upset her again. As instigated by Hayden, Drake met with him and Rhys to discuss a plan of action to get Drake out of the cooking program his parents had enrolled him into and into an aviation program like he wanted to be . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

“Okay, and we also need to get contact information for the school, whether it’s to get them to transfer programs or seek to cancel,” Hayden said.

“If we can get money refunded by telling them in advance that I’m not coming,” Drake said. “Aren’t secondary schools non-refundable in everything?”

“They do call them college dropouts, not refund beneficiaries,” Rhys replied.

“It’d be nice to find out if they might give some money back because of the circumstances,” Hayden said. “Wouldn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Drake agreed. “Seeing as I’m not sure where I’m going to get the remaining cash to buy that Malibu so I don’t have to get all these rides around to places.”

“How much do you need?” Hayden asked.

“Eight hundred minimum,” Drake replied. “I got two hundred for the Cavalier from the junk guy, which, added to my thousand dollars in savings, makes twelve hundred out of two thousand, which is the minimum amount I want to pay for the car.”

“You mean you’d be willing to pay more?” Hayden asked.

“It’s a five-year-old car,” Drake replied. “It’s in good shape and I can connect my phone with Bluetooth and listen to whatever I want.”

“Oh, well I guess that’s always good,” Hayden said.

“I also won’t have to get it inspected in order to buy it, and it shouldn’t need repairs — especially not major ones — anytime soon,” Drake said.

“All the better for using to get away,” Rhys said. “Maybe I see why your parents don’t want to give money to it.”

“What do you mean?” Drake asked.

“I’ll bet they gave you the Cavalier because it was so unreliable that you wouldn’t be able to go far in it, meaning you wouldn’t be able to run away on them,” Rhys replied. “So they’re opposed to the Malibu because it’s reliable enough that you could drive somewhere even as far away as the other end of Canada without it dying on you.”

“I’m pretty sure that could be considered abuse,” Hayden said.

Drake considered quipping about how abuse wasn’t beyond Mom and Dad — or, at least Dad — but he didn’t. He knew his friends knew he was being restricted, but he doubted that they knew how far it went, seeing as he wore the foundation to cover up the bruises whenever he left the house, which meant that he even wore it to school and elsewhere when he saw his friends, thus they didn’t know that he was regularly slapped, punched, and even hit on the face with pots and pans.

“They enrolled him into a cooking program without telling him,” Rhys said. “And you’re surprised they wouldn’t want him to own a reliable car?”

“I guess that’s true too, isn’t it?” Hayden mused.

“I think we should specifically look — if pilot’s licenses are a provincial thing — for flying schools in the area of Nanaimo,” Rhys said.

“Why?” Drake asked.

“Then you can stay with Calder’s parents,” Rhys replied. “He said you could stay with them.”

No Alternative: Day 8

Word Count: 48,009

Summary of Events:

Drake's dad caused a pair of customers — who happened to be checking out the restaurant so as to potentially promote it in a travel brochure — to leave in disgust without eating by pretending they hadn't ordered the meals they had because the central ingredients for those meals were spoiled instead of just admitting they were spoiled, as Drake and the other waitstaff hadn't known of the unavailability. Some days later Drake, Rhys, and Hayden bid Calder farewell as he left to participate in the NHL Combine for its draft prospects . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

Once his billets had finished and stepped back, Calder turned to his friends.

Hayden went up first and embraced him, holding tight for a long time in which Drake heard them exchange muffled words.

Rhys shook hands with Calder, and pulled him into a looser embrace next, not saying anything until they’d pulled apart.

“All the best,” Rhys said. “Hopefully you don’t get picked by the Golden Knights.”

Calder laughed. “I’ll try and keep my mouth shut about how bad their jerseys look if I do.”

“We’ll see you yet this summer,” Rhys said. “And if you forget your Jeep we’ll drive it to where you’re at.”

“Road trip!” Hayden said, sounding mostly enthusiastic, although he definitely looked rather emotional.

Drake offered the biggest smirk his still-sore face would allow and Calder looked at him sympathetically.

“You’re going to get out of there,” Calder said. “Even if I have to kidnap you.”

“I don’t think changing programs or schools should be that hard,” Rhys said.

Calder grabbed Drake’s shoulders firmly and looked him in the eye. “Don’t give up, we want to see you flying one of these guys someday, even if your parents are paranoid of them.”

Drake nodded. “Have fun.”

Sighing, Calder looked at Drake sceptically before pulling him into a powerful embrace that made it clear just how physically strong Calder was, in spite of his not really looking all that thick or solid — in fact, the weigh scales said that Calder was only about five kilos heavier than Drake was — and tears sprang to Drake’s eyes in spite of himself.

“Keep spending time with Rhys and Hayden,” Calder whispered. “You already are starting to look like you’re losing hope. It’s like Rhys said, it shouldn’t be that hard to get you into flying without your parents knowing. Even if it does prove hard, we won’t let your parents destroy you. Hang on for us if nothing else. Please.”

“You sure I can’t hide in your luggage?” Drake asked.

Calder chuckled. “If worse comes to worse make for Nanaimo, Mom and Dad can’t seal off my bedroom, and I’ve kept them up-to-date with all of this, they’d be more than willing to let you stay there if necessary.”

“Thanks,” Drake whispered.

“Anything for one of my best friends outside of hockey,” Calder whispered.

He gave Drake a final squeeze and then let go. Drake could see he looked like he wanted to cry too, but they all managed to hold themselves together and Calder picked up his luggage, heading for the exit onto the tarmac.

Drake, Rhys, and Hayden watched as he boarded the small passenger craft that would carry him west to Nanaimo for all of a few hours before he would be departing for Buffalo and the Combine, not turning away from the window until the plane had taken off and disappeared behind a fluffy cumulus cloud as it made its way west.

No Alternative: Day 7

Word Count: 42,050

Summary of Events:

Drake arrived at the restaurant for work and was soon tasked with serving a family he was sure had never been at the restaurant before; they kept him running back and forth between the kitchen to deal with a myriad of issues relating to their food that assured Drake they wouldn't be back anytime soon. He made arrangements with a junk collector to pick up his car, seeing as it wasn't repairable, and met him at the restaurant parking lot where the car still stood . . . 

Excerpt of the Day:

There was no mistaking the arrival of the junk collector. He drove up in a semi-type truck with a permanently attached flatbed that already had another car secured to it, the name of his company emblazoned on the side. The truck looked quite new and clean.

Drake slid out of Calder’s Jeep and walked over to where the guy was getting out of his truck.

“You Drake?” the tanned, powerfully-built man asked.

“Yes,” Drake replied.

“Gary,” the man held out a hand that looked like it wouldn’t get clean easily and Drake slid his hand into the grasp, nearly getting thrown to the pavement by the power of Gary’s handshake.

“So that’s the car?” Gary asked, pointing to the sorry-looking Cavalier — which Drake had gotten Rhys to help him take the license plate off of on Wednesday so that he could use the plate on his new car.

“Yeah,” Drake replied.

“Talk about a beater,” Gary said.

“It’s what you get for less than a thousand bucks,” Drake replied.

“You can’t by an effective used car for that kind of money,” Gary said. “You’ve got to at least shell out two grand.”

“I wasn’t allowed to pick it,” Drake replied. “A week after I got my license I was called outside and told this was my car. I was lucky it got me anywhere for the entire year and a half.”

“Wouldn’t your parents rather you not be needing money out of them for the car all the time?” Gary asked as he walked around the car.

“I don’t know,” Drake replied. “I think Dad would’ve loved to have bought me a brand new Model T, except that we’re over a century too late for those.”

“Only just,” Gary replied sarcastically. “Could you pop the hood open please?”

Drake obliged and went to look at the tangle of tubes, and wires that connected the engine to the car and helped it perform all its functions.

“This isn’t going to be much of a parts car,” Gary said. “Mostly just melting it all down and reforming it into something else.”

“I’m not surprised,” Drake admitted.

“How’d the airbag go off?” Gary asked, closing the hood and nodding toward the windshield.

“It wouldn’t start so I punched the steering wheel,” Drake replied.

“Oh,” Gary said, the word coming out as a truncated laugh.

Drake felt a little bit of irritation, but when Gary lapsed into silence instead of continuing to chuckle he felt grateful.

“That could reduce the amount of parts then,” Gary said.

He led the way down the driver’s side of the Cavalier, finishing his circumnavigation of it, and climbed into his truck, where he did something on is phone screen; Drake guessed he was making calculations.

“I can give you about two hundred for it,” Gary said.

“That works,” Drake said. “It’s better than paying a towing company to haul it away.”

No Alternative: Day 6

Word Count: 36,052

Summary of Events:

Drake — accompanied by his friend Rhys, who knew more about cars than he did — went to look at a potential replacement for his car, seeing as no mechanic in town thought the repairs necessary for his car were worthwhile, considering its state; the prospective replacement was almost twenty years newer and Drake quite liked it. Later Drake went to appeal to his parents for money to add to what he had saved to buy the car, but his parents objected, reminding him that they'd enrolled him for schooling he didn't want to take, and he made it clear to them that he didn't want to take it, which led to an argument with his dad, who claimed that his friends were spoiled by their parents and making him greedy . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

“None of their parents are slaving away in such a hostile business as this,” Dad retorted. “This kind of business is vicious and ruthless, full of ungrateful ingrates who wouldn’t know what good food was if it hit them in the face.”

“You don’t know what good food is!” Drake cried, launching himself to his feet — which sent his chair slamming down to the floor. “If you knew what good food was you would be drowning in business and buying me a five-year-old car wouldn’t be this kind of contentious bone!”

“Now just a minute!” Dad bellowed, rising to his feet somewhat more slowly — although he didn’t push his chair far enough back before doing so, leading to it also falling back to the floor. “You are an untrained, inexperienced waiter–”

“Whom you keep commandeering to aid in the cooking part of things,” Drake interrupted.

“You know nothing of how to create a menu,” Dad countered. “You merely hand the finished product — both menu and food — to the customers. You know nothing of the complexities in food flavour and combination.”

“I have a tongue, and it sure works better than yours,” Drake snapped. “You know why some of the stuff on your menu hasn’t sold since you first introduced it? Because it’s gross! It’s enough to make a person vomit just to read the name of some of that!”

“I am the trained chef!” Dad roared. “I am the one who knows what to do and how to do it, and heir to my restaurant or not, you are subservient and unintelligent when it comes to the matters of the kitchen. I never have you cooking food unless it is the most extreme of emergencies.”

“Bull on that,” Drake swore. “You pull me off tables to cut vegetables even when I’m intending to go out right in that same minute and take an order or give a customer their meal! And you chain me to that kitchen as if I’m in a prison! If you want happy customers you need to let people do their job and not manhandle us like a bunch of puppets! We are all  independent people who know what we’re doing and how to do it, and we probably know it better than you do!”

“You are a complete incompetent!” Dad bellowed. “You don’t know how to do anything properly!”

“But Oriann does?” Drake demanded. “You let her do whatever she wants, you’re letting her choose her own future and plot her own course, but me? Apparently I’m some kind of a dunce or something. I’m capable of making my own judgements and decisions, and I’d rather be allowed to be my own person than your slave. I don’t want your filthy restaurant I want to live my own life!”

No Alternative: Day 5

Word Count: 30,013

Summary of Events:

Drake was able to talk to Calder's sister, but the fact that they had been off where they couldn't be seen by Calder's father led to Drake being chastised by him, which left Drake quite intimidated. The following day Drake was at work and discovered the Pepsi was flat, so he meant to open a fresh bottle, but his dad didn't take it well, so Drake had to ask a favour of the head waitress . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

“What happened to you?” she asked.

“I discarded flat Pepsi and got fresh poured over my head,” Drake replied. “Would you be able to cover my section while I go find some fresh clothes and a shower?”

“Elton isn’t going to be happy,” Sadie warned.

“I don’t care,” Drake replied. “If I don’t wash this pop out now I’m going to have to shave my head with a straight razor.”

“It’s going to wreck your car,” Sadie added.

“Good, maybe I can get it written off and get insurance money,” Drake said. “Oh, and tell the girl Pepsi’s off. Dad decided there’s no more Pepsi because I dumped the flat stuff down the drain.”

Sadie sighed and shook her head. “And yet he eighty sixes all kinds of stuff. It doesn’t make sense, it really doesn’t.”

Drake nodded and headed for the exit. He got into his car and turned the key. The car wheezed, but wouldn’t turn over. Trying again, Drake got the same response. Five tries yielded nothing more than pathetic wheezing.

Swearing, Drake slammed his fist on the steering wheel, only to be immediately slapped by the airbag.

Immediately Drake scrambled out of his car, desperately trying to avoid inhaling more of the dust that kept the bag capable of inflating even after having been folded up into the steering wheel for twenty some years; the dust he had inhaled burned his nose, throat, and lungs.

Now he was going to have dust stuck to all the wet pop on his clothes — and his skin, for that matter.

Drake went around to the other side of his car and fetched the insurance papers out of the glove compartment. He pocketed the booklet holding the papers and went back to the restaurant, where he snitched the keys to the van out of Mom’s purse before heading to the van — after making sure to shut his now-useless car’s door.

Satisfied that it started easily, Drake backed out of the stall and set off for home, where he’d shower and change into the next-darkest clothes he had, unless he felt like taking a few minutes to burn over to a store and get new ones that matched, that way Dad wouldn’t be able to tell.

It was only when Drake arrived in the bathroom downstairs and saw his apron still around his waist that he realised he hadn’t turned in the meal orders of the women he’d been serving.

Swearing again, Drake pulled the notepad out, took a picture, and texted it to Sadie, letting her know he’d forgotten to turn it in.

He’d just put one foot into the tub when his cellphone informed him he’d gotten a text, so he went over and looked; it was a reply from Sadie: Don’t worry about it, they left.

Drake sighed. The more time passed, the more he was beginning to hate Dad. He was getting more and more unreasonable, it seemed — either that, or he’d always been unreasonable and Drake was only just beginning to notice, he might have to ask the staff what they thought it was.