Chapter 29: A Simple Start

Wednesday:

Josh woke up to the muffled sounds of morning chatter drifting up from downstairs. The scent of oatmeal mixed with the faint hint of coffee wafted through the air, nudging him awake. He stretched with a groan, shaking off the remnants of sleep, and glanced at the clock on his nightstand.

“Not too late,” he murmured to himself, swinging his legs over the side of the bed.

He stood, rubbing his eyes as he shuffled to his dresser. Grabbing a clean shirt and jeans, he got dressed and ran a hand through his hair in an attempt to tame the mess. Giving up after a moment, he headed downstairs.

The kitchen was alive with the familiar rhythm of morning routines. Joel was tilted precariously back in his chair, munching noisily on cereal as he scanned the front page of the newspaper that their mother always left out. William, in contrast, was engrossed in the comics section, occasionally stifling a laugh as he sipped from his glass of orange juice. Dorothy sat at the table, her hands wrapped around a steaming mug of coffee, a bowl of oatmeal in front of her.

“Morning, everyone,” Josh greeted, his voice still rough from sleep.

Dorothy looked up and gave him a warm smile. “Good morning, sweetheart. You’re cutting it a little close today.”

Joel smirked and added through a mouthful of cereal, “Morning, lazybones.”

“Don’t talk with your mouth full, Joel,” Dorothy said sharply, though her tone carried more amusement than reprimand.

Josh chuckled, moving toward the counter. “What smells so good? Oatmeal?” He opened the cupboard and pulled out a packet of brown sugar-flavored oatmeal. “I’ll have some too. It smells amazing.”

William glanced up from his comics. “Better hurry. We’re heading out soon.”

“I’ll catch up,” Josh replied, filling his bowl with water and popping it into the microwave. He leaned against the counter, watching the numbers tick down.

Joel drained the last of his cereal milk with an exaggerated slurp and stood, grabbing his backpack. “Don’t take too long, Josh. Don’t want to hear you whining if you’re late.”

Josh shot him a grin. “Thanks for the concern, Joel. I’ll manage.”

William folded the comics neatly, his usual slow pace picking up as he noticed the time. “Mom, can I get a ride today?”

Dorothy stood, setting her mug down. “Not today, honey. The walk will do you good. Plus, I have to leave for work right after you boys go.”

William sighed dramatically but didn’t argue.

Dorothy placed her bowl in the sink, turning to Josh. “Have a good day, sweetie. Don’t forget your backpack.”

Josh gave her a thumbs-up. “Will do. You have a good day too, Mom.”

She smiled and gave his shoulder a quick squeeze before ushering his brothers out the door. The sound of their chatter and the creak of the door quickly faded, leaving the house in quiet stillness.

The microwave beeped, pulling Josh’s attention back to his breakfast. He pulled the steaming bowl out, carefully stirred the oatmeal, and carried it to the table. The sweet, comforting aroma of brown sugar reminded him of simpler days when breakfast was the only thing he had to think about.

Sitting alone in the quiet kitchen, Josh ate slowly, savoring the calm. His thoughts drifted to the day ahead, the usual humdrum of school tempered by the growing excitement of his after-school plans. He mentally replayed some of the techniques he’d learned during his first lesson at Sensei Chang’s dojo.

“Balance,” he muttered under his breath, recalling the way Sensei Chang had demonstrated flowing movements. “Redirect, don’t resist.”

Finishing his oatmeal, Josh placed the bowl in the sink and rinsed it out, a habit instilled by his mother. He grabbed his backpack from the chair and slung it over one shoulder before stepping outside.

The neighborhood was alive with the sounds of morning—birds chirping energetically in the trees and the occasional hum of cars passing by. The crisp air carried the scent of freshly cut grass, a reminder of the weekend’s yard work.

Josh took a deep breath, the coolness clearing his mind as he started the familiar walk to school. Despite the ordinary start to the day, a quiet sense of anticipation lingered beneath the surface.

The cool morning air seemed to dissipate as Josh neared the schoolyard, replaced by the hum of kids’ voices and the occasional sharp peal of laughter. Groups of students clustered together in the open space, trading stories, showing off new toys, or exchanging snacks pilfered from lunchboxes. A few kids chased each other in an impromptu game of tag, their shrieks of excitement carrying over the chatter.

Josh adjusted the strap of his backpack and stepped through the gate. He nodded at a few familiar faces along the way. “Morning, Josh!” called a boy from his math group.

“Morning,” Josh replied, offering a small wave.

Passing through the yard, he overheard snippets of conversations.

“My dad got me a new bike!”

“Did you see the show last night? The one with the alien?”

“No way you can trade me a pudding for two crackers. That’s not fair!”

Josh smiled to himself, the youthful energy around him a stark contrast to the weight of the thoughts he carried from his former life. Still, he felt a twinge of gratitude for the simplicity of these interactions.

As he reached the classroom door, he paused briefly, letting out a small breath before stepping inside.

Inside the Classroom The familiar scent of chalk and the faint, sweet tang of hand sanitizer greeted Josh as he entered the room. Mrs. Thomson stood at her desk, arranging a stack of graded papers into neat piles. Her attention lifted as the door clicked shut behind him, and her warm smile spread across her face.

“Good morning, Josh,” she said, her voice cheerful but soothing.

“Good morning, Mrs. Thomson,” Josh replied, returning her smile as he made his way to his desk near the front of the room.

The classroom buzzed with the quiet sounds of other students settling in—zippers opening, pencils clattering onto desks, and whispered exchanges about upcoming lessons. Josh slid his book out of his backpack, smoothing its slightly wrinkled cover before placing it squarely in the center of his desk.

As he sat, Mrs. Thomson moved from her desk to the chalkboard. She began writing the day’s objectives in her careful, looping handwriting: Math: Fractions, Reading: Chapter 7, and Science: Earth’s Layers.

“Alright, everyone,” she announced, clapping her hands gently to draw the class’s attention. “Let’s get started. Open your math books to page 54, and we’ll continue working on fractions today.”

Josh opened his book quickly, glancing around as his classmates scrambled to follow. He’d already reviewed this section in his spare time but kept his focus sharp, waiting for the moment when he might offer assistance or insights.

By the time lunch rolled around, Josh felt a sense of satisfaction. The morning had flown by, with lessons ticking along smoothly. He even managed to help a classmate struggling with fractions during math.

The cafeteria was its usual cacophony of sounds—trays sliding across counters, bursts of laughter, and the muffled thud of backpacks being dropped onto benches. Josh grabbed his tray, collecting the quintessential pizza and fries combo.

He slid into a seat beside a group of boys from his class. “Hey, Josh,” one of them said, already halfway through his slice.

“Hey,” Josh replied, biting into his pizza.

The conversation flowed around him, topics ranging from weekend plans to the latest video games. Josh chimed in occasionally but spent most of the time observing, his thoughts drifting back to his Aikido training.

Recess was equally uneventful, though enjoyable. He joined in on a game of tag, weaving through the playground with a mix of agility and laughter. The physical activity was refreshing, a momentary release from the mental focus of his classroom lessons.

As the school day ended and the last bell rang, students filed out of the classroom, chattering excitedly about their afternoon plans. Josh slid his books into his backpack, slung it over one shoulder, and began making his way to the door.

“Josh,” Mrs. Thomson called out, her voice warm but firm.

He turned, nodding. “Yes, Mrs. Thomson?”

“Do you have a moment to chat before you head home?”

“Sure,” Josh replied, adjusting the strap of his bag.

Mrs. Thomson gestured toward the desk at the front of the room. “Come on up. Have a seat.”

Curious, Josh walked over and plopped into a chair near her desk. She leaned forward slightly, resting her elbows on the polished wood.

“How are things going, Josh? You’ve had a lot going on lately.”

Josh hesitated for a moment before answering. “I’m doing okay. Just trying to keep up with everything. It feels ... different, you know?”

She tilted her head slightly. “Different how?”

Josh considered his words carefully. “I guess it’s just realizing how much potential I have—how much I didn’t push myself before. It’s like I’m seeing things from a new perspective.”

Mrs. Thomson smiled, her expression thoughtful. “That’s a good way to put it. You’ve been handling things remarkably well for someone your age. I’m impressed.”

“Thanks,” Josh said, his tone modest.

The conversation lightened as Mrs. Thomson leaned back. “I’ve noticed you always seem to have a book with you. What are you reading right now?”

Josh’s face lit up. “Oh, I just started A Stranger in a Strange Land by Robert Heinlein.

Mrs. Thomson’s eyebrows rose slightly. “Really? That’s not the usual fare for someone your age. Heinlein’s work is ... well, it’s dense, and it tackles some pretty heavy themes.”

Josh shrugged. “I guess that’s why I like it. The story is about someone who doesn’t fit into society, who has to learn its rules but doesn’t necessarily accept them as they are. I can relate to that.”

Mrs. Thomson studied him for a moment, clearly intrigued. “That’s an interesting perspective. What’s your favorite part of the book so far?”

Josh’s gaze drifted thoughtfully. “I really like how Valentine Michael Smith learns about humanity—how he questions things we take for granted, like love, family, and even religion. It’s like he’s holding up a mirror to the way people act, and it makes you wonder why we do the things we do.”

Mrs. Thomson nodded slowly, a small smile playing on her lips. “I remember reading it in college. The idea of ‘grokking’ something really stuck with me. That deep understanding that goes beyond words—it’s such a unique concept.”

Josh grinned. “Exactly! And it’s not just about understanding something—it’s about becoming one with it, like truly connecting. That’s why I think Heinlein’s writing is so amazing. He doesn’t just tell a story; he makes you think.”

“You’re absolutely right,” Mrs. Thomson said, her tone approving. “You know, not many kids your age are diving into books like that. I’m impressed. It’s a bold choice.”

Josh smirked. “Well, I figure if I’m going to read, I might as well pick something that challenges me.”

They continued discussing the book for several minutes, delving into its characters, themes, and the cultural impact it had during its release.

After finishing his conversation with Mrs. Thomson, Josh glanced out the classroom window, noting the angle of the afternoon sun. “Thanks again for talking, Mrs. Thomson,” he said, standing and slinging his backpack over one shoulder. “I appreciate it.”

Mrs. Thomson smiled warmly. “You’re welcome, Josh. You’ve got a bright future ahead of you—don’t forget that.”

Josh nodded, a faint smile crossing his face. “I won’t. See you tomorrow.”

“See you then,” she replied, waving slightly as Josh headed out of the classroom.

When Josh arrived home, he found the house eerily quiet. The usual chaos of his brothers’ banter or his mother’s humming in the kitchen was absent. He kicked off his shoes near the door and dropped his backpack onto a nearby chair.

As he walked through the living room, he noticed the small red light blinking on the answering machine. Curious, he pressed the play button.

“Hey boys,” his mother’s voice chimed warmly but with a hint of stress. “Something came up at work, and I need to stay late tonight. You’ll have to fend for yourselves for dinner. I’ll see you all later. Love you!”

Josh let out a small sigh and erased the message. “Guess it’s up to me,” he muttered, heading to the kitchen.

Josh opened the fridge and scanned its contents, his eyes landing on a container of cottage cheese, a bag of shredded cheddar, and some milk. An idea sparked. He pulled open a cabinet, retrieving a box of elbow pasta and a jar of cornstarch. His gaze shifted to the vegetable drawer where a fresh head of broccoli rested.