After the Energists: Rebooted Teen Years
Chapter 1: Slip Slidin’ Away

Copyright© 2014 by AL-Canadian

Time Travel Sex Story: Chapter 1: Slip Slidin’ Away - After helping the Energists with their transition to their new world and body orientation, Mike is given the opportunity to relive his life with the slim chance of returning to his previous timeline. This is how his second chance at living through high school turns out. If you haven't read the first two books in this series, you may not pickup on all the details and references in this story.

Caution: This Time Travel Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   mt/ft   mt/Fa   ft/ft   Mult   Teenagers   Consensual   Romantic   Lesbian   BiSexual   Heterosexual   Fiction   True Story   School   Sports   Science Fiction   DoOver   Time Travel   Group Sex   Anal Sex   Analingus   Cream Pie   Double Penetration   First   Masturbation   Oral Sex   Petting   Safe Sex   Sex Toys   Squirting   Slow  

Mike’s childhood home in Bryanston, north of London, Ontario

6:30am, Wednesday, February 14, 1979

“I’m up, I’m up,” I replied back to my dad, which surprised him as he usually had to come around the corner of our ‘U-shaped’ bedroom and shake or kick the bunk beds to get both Patt and I up in the morning for school. “I’ll make sure Pat gets up too. Can you hit the lights for us please?”

Our large bedroom had 2 sets of bunk beds for me and my 3 brothers. The main heating system and chimney ran up the center of it, which created the ‘U’ shape. While my oldest brothers weren’t living at home any longer, their bunk beds were right beside the door. Patt and my beds were out of sight from the door, which afforded us some privacy and early warning at times for visitors. Unfortunately, the main overhead light switch was by the door, so we often had to walk around the room to turn them on.

“Ok. Glad you’re up,” my dad said with a note of surprise in his deep voice. Just then the overhead lights came on in our room and a few seconds later I heard the bedroom door click shut as my father headed back downstairs.

I heard my older brother groan a little and duck under his covers as he experienced the up close effect of the overhead lights. I chuckled at him and said, “Get up dude or dad will be pissed.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m ‘bout ready to hit the pavement. If I’m not up in five, come back and get me. Got that doofus?”

“Alright,” I said to my unchanged semi-psychotic older brother. As I moved around my old bedroom to get dressed for school, I reminisced about my prior experiences with my three brothers. My older brothers were all in the 5-8 to 5-9 range, strong, athletic and sports minded growing up. However, they never participated in school sports at Medway High like I did. My oldest brother Joe’s asthma was the main reason he never played sports beyond our neighborhood backyard battles. I remembered him getting seriously winded if he ran hard for any short duration in our surprisingly regular pickup football, baseball or road/pond hockey games.

From a competitive or organized sport perspective, John strictly focused on playing hockey growing up. Since Medway didn’t suit up a high school team at that time, he played on several non-school based teams. Fortunately, all the local communities had super youth hockey programs, which John, Patt and I played in.

As I mentioned, Patt and I never had a civilized relationship during my previous high school experience. It wasn’t until he joined the Canadian Armed Forces at 20, and became a flight engineer that we developed a brotherly relationship together. During the previous pass-through of my teenage years, I didn’t really understand why he was always snarly with me, as I was a typical teenager who mainly focused on my own concerns and peer group issues. Now however as I processed those prior memories of us together, I suddenly knew why he was such an A-hole towards me then.

Patt was the black sheep boy in the Nevins’ household. While he was a good ‘grinder’ type hockey player, he never really put a lot of effort into maximizing his athletic ability like John and I did. He was more into music growing up and was a superb piano player. Patt also played the French horn in Medway’s outstanding concert orchestra, which was his only high school social outlet. Outside of school, he somehow got hooked on the disco-Saturday Night Fever, and roller skating crazes, which I didn’t comprehend then or even now as I reexamine my opinion of my surly older brother.

As I quickly tried to comprehend my ‘old’ memories and make sense of them in my current situation, I realized that in most school settings, the younger siblings were usually recognized by their teachers as the “older” sibling’s younger brother or sister. Previously in high school however, Patt was often identified as “Mike’s older brother” by several teachers or fellow classmates. Even though he was there for three years before I got there, I quickly made a name for myself via my sport and academic accomplishments, which I now realized aggravated him to no end. While I’m no therapist, I’d bet money that was the primary reason why he and I didn’t get along very well previously.

Now that I figured this out about him, about us, I hoped that things might be different this go around. Then I realized I only had about three more months left of shared schooling with him, which didn’t leave a lot of time to correct a year and a half of bad blood and feelings between us. If things are progressing as before, Patt will fail several classes this year at Medway and be forced to retake those classes again in the fall to graduate with his ‘honors’ high school diploma. Previously, he took those failed classes at Catholic Central High School in downtown London instead of at Medway. That change of scenery helped him out a lot if I recall.

I grabbed my boxers, socks, blue-jeans and my Philadelphia Flyers’ sweat shirt and headed to the bathroom to do my morning 3S’s, sh!t, shower and shave. Just as I was about to knock on the bathroom door, my sister Mary opened the door. “Morning short stuff,” she said as she scurried by me wrapped in two bath towels, one around her 25-year-old body and the other around her wet long brown hair. “Have you grown any since the last time we saw each other?”

“Don’t think so,” I replied. “If I did, it’s a surprise to me. A wonderful surprise but who knows.” I ducked into our shared bathroom with my brain running a hundred miles an hour after hearing Mary’s comment about me being suddenly taller or bigger. I bent over and looked at myself in my flannel PJs and thought they were a little ‘flood-like’ in length on my legs. The sleeves seemed a little short too as I quickly stripped out of them to start my morning routine. I turned on the small AM-FM radio and turned the dial to FM96, which I recalled was the local rock station. The DJ announced that April Wine’s new album, Harder ... Faster was out and that he was going to play the first two songs from it now.

Under the hot water, I soaped up and enjoyed the tunes, I Like to Rock and Say Hello. I still loved those Canadian rock songs, which allowed my mind to wander as I quietly sang along to them. As I softly sang, Kaleigh’s image and her vocal message popped back into my head which not surprisingly caused a rise in my lower head. With a 16-year-old’s hormones coursing through my young body, the image of Kaleigh teasingly holding her magnificent breasts with her awesome pink puffy nipples caused a raging hard-on in mere seconds.

I ran my hands across my soapy chest and stomach to lather them up and then with my eyes closed and with my mind focused on Kaleigh’s sexy image, I reached down to my high angled cock. I lightly stroked it around the head and along the shaft a few times with my left hand as I cupped my balls with my right. I pictured Kaleigh’s naked body in the shower with me, where she bent over and held her beautiful bubble butt open with her hands. I gripped my cock head a little tighter as I imagined it sinking slowly into her tight pussy. With my hips driving forward some, I groaned out as my hand slid tightly along the shaft down to its base. I imagined my balls slapping against her exposed clit when I forcefully completed my entry stroke.

I rocked my hips back and forth several times and felt my balls tighten up as my impending orgasm approached. My soapy fingers felt great along my cock and when my orgasm hit, I had to reach up with my right hand to steady myself against the back wall of the shower. As those incredible sensations subsided, I opened my eyes and looked down at my still hard cock and saw another crazy surprise. My previous 16-year-old cock was maybe 6.5 inches long and an inch and half across, with a slightly bigger crown at the end. Now, my left hand was holding at least 7.5 inches of manhood, and I couldn’t get my fingers around the shaft’s circumference. What really amazed me though was the size, shape and post-orgasmic action of the crown. It was now almost 3 inches across, with prominent flared ridges, which pulsed or puffed out an additional quarter inch or so every 3 to 4 seconds as the last of my white fluid was forced out of its large head.

The sensations within my body from masturbating were way better now than I recalled from my previous life. My left hand lightly squeezed the shaft to force out any remaining seminal fluid and the tingling along my shaft was splendid. I pushed off the shower wall with my right hand and moved to the side so the hot water would wash away the large puddle of cum on the tub wall and floor. I used my left foot to gingerly push the last resistant strand down toward the drain and then rubbed that foot with my right hand to make sure it was cleaned off.

When Paul Simon’s Slip Slidin’ Away came on the radio, I remembered that FM96’s DJs really didn’t have a clue about putting together a decent play list as this song should never follow April Wine’s Say Hello. As I rinsed all the soap and shampoo off and out of my hair, I recalled that I really did like Simon and Garfunkel’s style of music. When I rinsed around my crotch, I knew I was 16 again because my hard ‘new’ cock hadn’t eased a bit. With those incredible orgasmic sensations gone, my mind was able to clearly focus once again on my body.

“Good lord,” I softly said to myself. “I AM experiencing some of the body modifications like the Energists said I would. I said I wanted to be taller than my 5-8, 5-9 height and I’ve grown some already. Dang, my cock is definitely longer and the crown is definitely bigger than before.” I used both of my hands to examine it, almost like Kaleigh did that first time she saw it up close and personal, in the women’s locker room at her Fitness for Boomers club on my 40th birthday.

“Oh shit!” I said as I suddenly remembered that my cock had previously and surprisingly changed somehow right THAT very moment with Kaleigh. As a teenager and all throughout my previous 40 years of life, my cock was basically average in size and shape. But when Kaleigh pulled my Marvin the Martian boxers down and saw it for the first time, it was unexpectedly like this new version. “Why the hell didn’t I notice that before with her? What the heck is hap ... wow shit!” THUMP!

I came to about 30 seconds later with a major headache as I was unceremoniously lying down in the bath tub with the hot water beating down on me. My sister and then my mom were pounding on the bathroom door yelling, “Are you OK Mike! Mike, are you OK?”

“Yeah,” I semi-loudly called back to them, which upped the pain I felt in the back of my head.

“What happened? Are you hurt?” I heard my ‘in-nurse-mode’ mother ask.

“I slipped and fell in the shower but I’m OK. Nothing seems to be broken and I’m not bleeding.” I said as I did a cursory check of my body and head. “My uh, my head is a little sore but I’m good. I’ll be out in a minute or two after I dry off and get dressed.”

“You’re sure? I’ll want to take a look at your head though, when you come down stairs for breakfast,” my mother said.

“Alright. I’ll be down in a few minutes.” I dumbly chuckled to myself as the chorus of Simon’s song played,

Slip slidin’ away, Slip slidin’ away.

You know the nearer your destination.

The more you’re slip slidin’ away.

“How frickin’ appropriate is that?” I said to myself as I pushed against the edge of the bath tub and slowly stood up again. After one final rinse off with the hot water, I turned it off, pulled the shower curtain back and stepped out onto the large bath-mat.

It was only after I dried myself off that my erection mercifully subsided. As I pulled on my boxers, I had trouble recalling what I was thinking about just then in the shower. I think I was pretty pleased with the change in my height but something about the size and shape of my cock puzzled me. As the pounding in my head subsided, I tried to refocus my thoughts on it but I just couldn’t remember what I was thinking about before I bonked my head.

I gave my head a final shake and simply shrugged it off as I pulled on my jeans. “Damn,” I softly muttered out. “I’m going to have to get mom to buy me some new jeans and other clothes I think. These are just a little too short now,” I said as I looked at them on my obviously longer legs. I thought to myself, “I wonder how tall I am right now.”

Suddenly, my trusty Energist device appeared before my eyes and showed me my new body characteristics. I found out I was now 5-10 and a half and weighed 170 pounds. My computer showed me what I would look like at various heights and asked me what height I would like to eventually reach during this life experience. I laughed out loud as I thought about my ability to change my body characteristics. I pondered everything that I previously wanted to do in my first life with a bigger body. I then decided that being much taller than 6-3 might be too outlandish for my vertically challenged family and other friends to fathom. With one final thought, I told my computer that I would like to be 6-3 and a half, and be about 220 pounds after my body enhancements were completed.

On the computer’s display, it showed me how my growth pattern would be carried out. I saw that my final height would be reached on July 15, which just happened to be my sister’s birthday. When I thought, “Won’t others wonder why or how I got this big?” I was surprised once again as an Energist being materialized within my bathroom.

“Greetings Dr. Michael or should I simply say, ‘Mike’,” my recent friend said to me. “You should know that humans experience a wide variety of growth patterns during puberty, so that others around you won’t be too alarmed at your current and upcoming growth spurt.”

“Yes, I do know that but I’ll be a good three or four inches taller than anyone in my family. Won’t that seem odd or unbelievable? Also, I’m two inches taller than I was yesterday, my past yesterday. I’m sure there will be issues with that.”

“It may be odd to some but it really isn’t outside the realm of reasonable human growth. If you had said you wanted to be 6 feet 6 inches or 6 feet 8 inches, then we Energists may have tried to convince you to reset your body characteristics outcomes. You may get some crazy questions about how you eventually got to be so tall for a ‘Nevins’ or your overnight growth but you’ll be able to deal with them based on your prior knowledge and experiences.”

I smiled at hearing his explanation on my immediate and impending body changes and how it may cause some consternation in those around me. As I enjoyed seeing my alternate universe friend, I remembered that I was suddenly confused about something and that even with my enhanced memory and computing device, I couldn’t determine the cause of my sudden puzzlement.

The Energist smiled and softly chuckled at me, “You want to know how your male sex organ suddenly changed in your prior life with Kaleigh, don’t you?”

I had a dazed look on my face and after a moment’s time, nodded back at him. I then rhetorically asked, “Why am I not surprised you knew my question before I asked it.”

My friend smiled at me for a moment before his face became serious. “You need to be more careful,” he semi-scolded me. “We will ensure you don’t suffer major harm or injuries in your new life, but these minor accidents are...” He smiled at me during this pause and finally added, “Good for your soul but not your mind.”

I laughed out loud at his using some of my previous words to make his case about minor head injuries hindering my ability to recall or comprehend current and past information. “Ok ok,” I thought back to him. “What about my bigger package here,” I nodded down at my crotch, “And how it changed sudd...”

Before I could finish my question, the Energist being began to vanish from my bathroom as he said, “Have fun with your young life again, Mike. Have fun.” I simply shook my head in disbelief and was once again totally befuddled about what I was just asking my extra-universal friend.

Just then, I heard a pounding on the door and, “Hey doofus, I need to get in there right now. Get your ass out and let me have my time in the bathroom.”

“Be out in a second. I’m just brushing my hair,” I replied back to my ornery older brother. I gave my medium length wet brown hair a few swipes of my brush and ran my fingers through it for good measure and then went to unlock the door.

“Move shithead, I got to pee like a racehorse,” Patt declared as he pushed me against the door frame and rushed past me into the bathroom.

“Good to see you’re up too,” I said sarcastically as my brother moved around the bathroom corner. I just didn’t know if I could change my ways with him right now when he was STILL such an ill-tempered idiot. I headed back into our bedroom and grabbed my school bag, trombone case and my wallet from beside and on my desk. I ran down the stairs to the kitchen where my mom looked at my noggin before I grabbed some breakfast.

Thankfully she said there wasn’t a major goose egg on the back of my head as I sat at the kitchen table. The bacon, biscuits and homemade strawberry jelly were delicious and I think I surprised my mother when I asked for a cup of coffee.

“Coffee! When did you start drinking coffee?” she asked me with a look of bewilderment on her face.

I quickly made up a story about having a cup or two at school or out at the mall with friends every so often. I didn’t think telling her that I picked up the coffee habit when I was in graduate school in South Carolina would go over well. When I went to school in Columbia, SC in 1986, hot tea wasn’t readily available, so if I wanted a hot beverage to warm my bones, coffee was the easiest and most widely available alternative then.

“I only have instant coffee right now. If you are going to start drinking coffee regularly, I’ll get some good quality coffee for you,” my mother said in response to my story. “I wouldn’t mind having a good cup or two every so often but it just wasn’t practical for me to make it here when I’m the only one drinking it.”

“Whenever you make it mom, I’ll drink a cup or two with you,” I said with a smile to her.

“That bonk against the tub must have knocked some sense into you it seems,” she said with some laughter in her voice. I sure missed hearing that soft lilt in my mother’s 57-year-old voice as the last time I remembered really talking with her, she was 81 years old and I was 40.

“Yeah, a good whack on the head usually does a man good I’m guessing,” I laughed back at her. Then I remembered I was going to need some new clothes as I was definitely not 5-8 and half any more. “Mom, are you working at the hospital today?”

“No,” she replied. “And where else would I be working other than the hospital if I did work today?” She enjoyed catching me, all of us actually, when we said stupid or unneeded things. I guess she was the driving force behind my always striving to either ask or say exactly what I meant, in as few words as possible.

“Mom, you know what I mean,” I said to her embarrassedly as she carried a cup of instant coffee over to my place at the table. “Thank you. I uh, I don’t know how to tell you this but uh, I think I grew some over the past couple of days and these previously new jeans are kinda short now.”

“What?!” my astonished mother said to me. “Stand up here for me.”

I pushed my chair away from the table and stood up alongside my 5 foot, 1 inch mother. She backed away some to get a little better perspective on things. I saw her look down at my feet and saw these jeans were indeed near the top of my low cut, red Chuck Taylors. Then she slowly raised her eyes up at me and for the first time since I got back to the ‘here and now’, she looked at my whole body.

“Who are you and what have you done with my baby boy?” she jokingly laughed as she raised her right hand to her cheek. “Where the blazes have I been these past few days or weeks that I didn’t notice you sprouting up again like this? George, come in here please,” she called to my dad who was drinking his hot tea and reading the paper in the living room.

“What?” I heard him say as he groaned to push up out of his tanned recliner. He folded up the London Free Press and set it down on his chair as he walked into the kitchen.

“Have we both been blind here the past few days? Look at your son here and tell me you didn’t notice that he was now a good inch or two taller than you and your other sons, even Patrick.” I smiled at hearing mom say that, as Patt often let me know with his ‘my shit don’t stink’ attitude that he still had about an inch on me. Now he couldn’t fire that one off at me any longer.

“Mom, dad, I just noticed this change myself this morning when I pulled on my jeans after my shower,” I said in faked disbelief. I raised my arms up like this was all a complete surprise to me as well, even though I could honestly say it was an honest surprise from my previous February 13, 1979 experience.

“I didn’t see anything different with him yesterday after I picked him up at school after his basketball game,” my dad said. He then tried to diffuse the situation like he usually did with a little humor. “It must have been those magic beans you fed him when we got home last night,” which caused my mom and me to laugh. We both knew that I wasn’t a fan of her baked beans, so she often allowed me to fry up a mess of French fries instead of making me eat them like I had to when I was in elementary school.

“Yeah right,” she chuckled. Not wanting my dad to have the final last humorous word, my mother added, “Maybe we all should just eat more of his greasy fries instead because that was the only thing he had different from the rest of us last night.” My dad started to walk back into the living room, when my mom said, “George, give me your charge card because I’m going to have to take this weed here and get him some new jeans and pants and possibly a few new shirts after school today.”

“Remember, I have late practice tonight mom, from five to seven,” I informed her. “I was going to let you and dad know if I needed a ride home later on, as I think Mr. Lunby was going to pick up Jon and Andy after our practice, and I was going to ride with them. But if you can, can you come get me and take me to the Galleria or Westmount Mall?”

“I think I can come pick you up at seven. However, you may have to settle for Northland’s Mall and Zellers for your clothes. We don’t have a money tree in our yard, young man.” My mother usually added that final comment when we came asking for some additional cash or expressed our desire to hit the nicer malls and stores in London.

“Ok mom,” I said in reply to her offer to take me clothes shopping. “I think I’m going to run back upstairs and put on some sweat pants as I don’t think I want to deal with all the ‘flood’ jokes that would come my way if I wore these jeans to school.”

“Just remember, you have about 10 minutes before the bus comes. Also, yell at your brother and tell him to get down here to eat a biscuit or something,” my mom said as I slowly jogged my way through the living room to the front staircase.

“K,” I said back at my mom as I passed my dad, who had returned to his recliner and newspaper. “Don’t throw out the sports section please,” I requested of him as I zipped on past him. All I heard was a quick ‘snapping’ of that section of the paper, which I took as an acknowledgement of my request to him.

8:05am, Medway High School

“Dude, whose elevator shoes are you wearing?” Kane Goodwin cracked at me as I entered the gym for a little pickup ball before homeroom started at 8:30. Kane, a 12th grader, was our starting point guard and the quarterback for the football team. I was his back up in both sports, so I tried to watch how he did things and then apply it to my game. My similar aged teammates and I often just hung around him and his buddies to pick up any other tidbits of game play we could from these 12th and 13th graders

(Note: Ontario schools at that time had a 13th grade for students who planned on attending university after high school – you could graduate after the 12th grade if you were going to a community college or doing something else with your life besides university).

“Ha, very funny,” I replied with a smile as I walked over to him. Kane was the first person to really notice my added inches without me saying or doing something to highlight that change. I was now able to look him eye to eye which was pretty cool this first time. “I just ate some mystery beans last night after our game and magically grew a couple of inches while I slept. Hopefully I won’t become like Big D over there.”

It was common knowledge amongst our sports’ clique that Dennis Grainam, a 10th grader like me, who was 6-5 and still growing, was pretty darn clumsy. In a another year’s time though, after he gained control of his large, powerful 6-7 body, Dennis would become a monster on both the football field and the basketball court, but only when the mood struck him to play like a monster.

“Let’s find out then shall we. You’re with Jon now,” Kane said and pointed to Jon Lunby, who was standing over with Matt Connell, Kollin Werring and Gary Dander. “It’s me, Bruce, Dennis, Andy and Matthew. Ready to get schooled you losers?”

“Bring it on you fat piece of bird crap,” I heard Matt shout out at his best friend Kane. “Come on Nev, make him go left now, force him to his girlie-man weak side.”

We played for about 15 minutes during which time I somewhat surprisingly held my own against my older ‘mentor’. With the pickup game tied at 10 baskets each, Kane declared next bucket wins.

Seeing how he had the ball, I just laughed and said, “Of course next bucket wins when you have the ball first for that opportunity.”

Normally the defense in these impromptu games was seriously lacking. But when Kane added, “You losers will have to buy us, the WINNERs, a coke after we score right here,” the fire in our defensive game and also in our pockets went up a notch or two as we sure didn’t want to spend 35cents for the other guys’ can of coke.

“Get on him tight now, Mike. Make that sorry trash mouth work to eat his words,” Matt shouted up at me as I moved up on Kane as he brought the ball across half court. “Jon, Kollin! Don’t give Kane an easy dump off either now. Play Brucey and Andy tight to prevent an easy outlet.”

After being schooled by Kane a number of times in these pickup games and in our real practices, I figured he would try to use his favored behind the back dribble to his left followed by a hard crossover dribble to his right. He did this regularly to create some space against his defender to start his team’s attack. As I hoped for, Kane started this move and I appeared to follow the path of the ball to the left but I used a quick jab step to position myself right where Kane usually pulled the ball with his follow-up crossover dribble. I was there to knock the ball away from him towards Jon Lunby and Bruce Smyth. Seeing that Jon had the best chance to pick up that loose ball, I broke down the floor and easily used my superior speed to separate myself from Kane.

I heard both Kollin and Matt yelling, “Up, up, up!” to Jon as he took one dribble and fired a lead pass my way. I watched the ball as it seemed to carry forever and head out of bounds. However, I gathered myself from my sprint and jumped as high as I could in the direction of the basketball. I somehow caught it and laid it softly against the square markings on the backboard. I heard a couple of ‘Oh my gods!’ from the other guys and a few of the students watching this pickup game, as the ball settled into the netting. A split second later, my arms caught the underside of the backboard as I flew wildly past the goal.

“Hell yeah! Mike! Oh shit! ... Are you OK?” was what I heard as I lost control of my body when I hit the backboard. I was obviously higher in the air than I’d ever been before but now I had no idea how I was going to land. Luckily, my feet somehow touched the ground a fraction of a second before my hands and arms did, which allowed me to safely absorb the wild forces of that awkward landing.

“God! Mike! Are you OK?!” I heard a loud but sweet voice ask over the herd of feet running towards me. Lynette Robertson was the first person to get to me as I took a moment to once again determine if I had hurt anything from that unexpected high flying experience. When I felt her hands on my shoulder I looked up and smiled at her worried yet pretty face.

“I’m good ... I think,” I said over my shortness of breath. “I sure didn’t expect ... that to happen when I jumped to c-catch that pass.”

“Jeeze Mike, you had me scared to...” she started to say until she was interrupted and we heard.

“What is going on over there?” from across the gym where the main men’s physical education office was located. I easily recognized that voice as belonging to Mr. Reed, one of three boys’ physical education teachers who also coached the boys’ JV basketball and football teams.

“You won’t believe what just happened, Coach!” an excited Andy Lunby said to our teacher as the big burly man walked slowly over to my location. “Mike, there just caught a long alley-oop from Jon, laid it perfectly in the basket. Then his forearm, right by his elbow, it hit on the underside of the backboard as he flew past it. It was incredible!”

“Are you alright, Mike?” I heard Coach Reed bellow out as he moved through the crowd surrounding me.

“I’m fine, Mr. Reed,” I replied as I finally stood up beside Lynette and enjoyed having her arms wrapped around me for appreciated but unneeded support. “I’m more surprised with what happened than anything really.”

“Alright, then,” Coach Reed said as he looked at my scuffed up hands to double check for any scrapes or swelling. “Time for everyone to head to their homeroom as I think I just heard the early warning bell sound. Kane, Matthew and Mike, a moment please.” Coach Reed used his finger to indicate we were to follow him over to the PE office.

“Yes sir,” we all said in near unison.

After we all walked into his office, he angrily asked, “What the hell just happened? I walk out to clear the gym and I see a mob around you. What really happened over there?”

“It was exactly like Andy said to you, Coach,” Kane, being the team leader, quickly answered. “Mike knocked the ball away from me towards Jon as I was dribbling up the court. He then took off towards the basket and Jon throw what looked like an uncatchable alley-oop pass towards Mike. This little guy,” Kane rubbed his hand on my head at this point, “Jumped so fast and high that he almost was able to slam the ball home. Anyhow, after he caught it, he laid it softly off the board and then his arm slammed into the bottom part of the goal, which spun him around in the air.”

“That’s dead on what happened Coach Reed,” Matthew, our lone 13th grader, jumped in to back up his friend’s words. “I thought Mike was going to land on his head as he spun there but he fortunately was able to get his hands and feet down to save himself. God! Coach Reed, that was an NBA type play he made there, really!” I stood there dumbfounded as these two guys, whom I looked up to a lot, were saying these things about me.

“Hum, so nothing crazy was going on other than this ‘unbelievable’ play by our young backup point guard here?” he said with obvious sarcasm dripping from his mouth.

“Uh, Coach, haven’t you noticed yet? Mike is as tall as Kane is right now,” Matthew said in response to those unbelieving words. I moved right beside Kane where both Mr. Reed and Mr. St. George could see us.

“Nevins, what is going on with you, son?” my favorite teacher, Mr. St. George asked as he stared at Kane and me. “I figured you were done growing last fall during football season. Also, at the game last night, if you were over 5-8 or 5-9 tops, than I’m a monkey’s uncle.”

“Can’t explain what happened sir but I’m definitely not 5-8 anymore,” I answered back with some fire in my words. “When I got up this morning, the pants I wore to school yesterday were suddenly too short and when I got here to school, I was able to look Kane here squarely in the eye.” Kane and Matthew just stood there listening to me explain my unexpected growth spurt to our PE teachers/coaches.

Both of these teachers had perplexed looks on their faces as the three of us did our best to explain what went on in the gym. After a few seconds of silent staring, Mr. St. George said, “Get a move on and don’t be late to homeroom. If your teachers say anything, tell them I detained you and will confirm it with them later.”

“Yes sir ... yes coach,” we said as we hurried out of their office across the gym.

I picked up my book bag on the way out and hit the stairs to the 2nd floor to get to Mr. Connors’ history room, my homeroom along the inner front quadrangle. I took a quick peek at my watch as I neared my locker and saw I had less than a minute to put my bag up, and pull out my math and science books for my first two periods of the day.

I just barely made it into the room as the final bell rang and Mr. Connors laughingly said, “Welcome to 10F, Dr. J. Jr. I heard you took flight this morning, and almost killed yourself in the process.”

Everyone busted out laughing as I quickly made my way over to what I hoped was my assigned seat. On the way, I easily recalled that Mr. Connors was a very cool, hippy style history teacher, who also volunteered as the school’s scorekeeper for both our football and basketball games.

As I reached my seat, I took a little bow and smiled at the beaming Lynette as she sat across from me in Mr. Connors’ U shaped classroom desk arrangement. By the look on her face, I could have bet money on the fact that she was the informant regarding my earlier basketball activities. As I sat down in my desk, I figured Mr. C would get a kick out of this train of thought so I said. “Well if you teachers here would get around to teaching us how to fly or possibly how to become a flight engineer, instead of wasting all our time on this boring mandated crap, I think I could have landed without all the added drama in the gym.”

Mr. Connors chuckled at my statement then quickly deadpanned back, “Insubordination to your teachers is a serious offense, Mr. Nevins. Are you positive that that neither Mr. Chidley nor Mr. Cambell has taught you about aerodynamics or Newton’s Laws of Motion yet in your 10th grade science class? If so, it is you who failed in your attempt at applying that knowledge during your previous predicament.”

The other students in the class started a low howl at Mr. Connors’ line of questioning but before I could formulate a smart reply, we heard, “Your attention please, here are your Wednesday, Valentine’s Day announcements,” over the speakers in the classroom. Mr. Connors made a hushing motion with his arms and hands, and everyone calmed down to hear what Mr. Williamson, our vice principal had to say this morning.

As we listened to the usual boring school announcements, I saw Lynette point at me, then mouth, “Can we talk on the way to math?” I smiled back at her and barely nodded my head in affirmation.

When Mr. Williamson said at the end of the announcements that both Mr. and Mrs. Pierce were out sick today and no substitute was available for them, a few of my classmates in Mr. Connors’ homeroom hooped and hollered a little as they gained an unexpected ‘spare’ period. I quickly accessed my old 10th grade high school schedule and realized I now had basically double time for lunch. With Mrs. Pierce’s 7th period English class now cancelled, I had nearly 2 hours of straight time to eat and work on any homework or projects assigned today.

At the conclusion of the morning announcements, the ending bell for homeroom sounded and we headed for the door. I picked up my math and science texts and notebooks as I wondered what Lynette, a smoking hot athletic blonde wanted to talk to me about. As I entered the hallway I didn’t have long to wait as my best ‘girl’ friend was hanging by the door, waiting for me.

Chapter 2 »