Rather than endure the rebirth process again, Peter opted to logout and see if his Mum was home. He was quite surprised to find the real world was as dark as the virtual, after having a mass of scorching steel thrust through him that is.

He rolled out of bed and called down the hallway. “Mum! Dad! Are you home?”

“Down here honey!” His mother’s voice drifted up from the kitchen. “Come have some dinner!”

Peter’s tummy rumbled, the muesli bars had been several hours ago. He walked into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes as the light assaulted them.

“It lives!” His father exclaimed from his seat at the table. He looked happier than he had in days. “How are you feeling Champ?”

Peter’s mother bustled about the cooking area, whipping up a plate of dinner for him. “You were asleep when we got home, and I thought it was best to let you go. It must have been a heck of a dream though, you were twitching and mumbling. Here you go, have a seat.”

Peter accepted the plate, piled high enough with steamed veggies that they almost obscured the steak and mashed potatoes underneath. As soon as he was sure neither of his parents were looking he pulled a face at his plate. Nevertheless he sat to the table and began cramming the veggies into his face. He preferred to eat the horrible parts of dinner first and fast, so he could enjoy the tasty bits.

“So, how was your rest day?” Peters’ Dad gestured with a fork full of broccoli, dropping a piece on the table in the process. Peter’s mum shot the offending morsel a withering look, but held her tongue.

Peter swallowed hard and took a sip to wet his suddenly dry mouth. “Well, I slept in a bit, and read your note, and I had breakfast on the roof and read a book out there for a bit. Then I did some homework until I got tired and had a nap.”

Popping his errant vegetable into his mouth to another glare from Peter’s Mum, his Dad smiled. “Sounds like a great day. I wish I could get one of those. How are you feeling now? Better?”

“Yes, thanks Dad. Much better.”

“And the book was really interesting? You’re a bit red around the neck and cheeks so I bet you were out there a while.”

“It’s a great story. One Grandad suggested to me, about a wizard that runs away from everything.”

“So, you’re getting the homework they gave you done?”

“…Yes Dad. I’m working on a play for English. It’s based on MacBeth but it’s about a MegaCorp with ninja assassins and car chases and terraforming.” In contrast to his dry mouth, Peter’s hands were sweating profusely. He had barely touched his schoolwork since discovering The Age.

“Well, keep it up. But remember that you’ve other subjects too. Don’t slack off from your Maths and Science lessons. School isn’t cheap you know.”

Peter tried to cover his embarrassment by taking another mouthful of water. He knew his dad wasn’t stupid. Not as smart as Grandad, but well above average. With just a nudge and wink, his dad had just made sure Peter knew that HE knew just how little of the homework Peter had done. Peter nodded, his tightening throat wouldn’t allow any words past.

“Good man, my boyo. I knew you were a chip off the old block.” His dad reached across to clap him on the shoulder, knocking a sauce bottle over. The loose lid popped off and BBQ sauce began to drip onto the tablecloth. Peter and his dad both reached for the bottle at the same time, sending it skittering and spreading the mess further.

“Could you damn well NOT!?” Peter’s mum lost it. She slammed her palms onto the table, catching the edge of her plate and flipping it over. The males froze like deer in headlights.

“You!” She pointed at Peter. “Bedroom. You!” She pointed at his father. “Clean this up. All of it. I’m going out.” She stalked to the front door, ripped it open and slammed it behind her.

Peter’s dad stood in the kitchen looking lost and dismayed. “You’d better do as she says, champ.” He turned and began hunting through the cupboard under the sink.

Not knowing what else to do, Peter grabbed his steak in his hand and took a bite out of it, then dropped it back on the plate and wandered unsteadily back to his room as he chewed. It tasted like cardboard.

Peter flopped into the chair at his desk and thought about logging in. It would be nice to get away from this. Even facing the Incredible Sulk with his silly cape would be better than a repetition of the kitchen scene, but his dad was right. He did need to spend some time on his other subjects.

Pulling the tablet out and laying it on the desk he flipped to the Maths section. He began working through the problems set for the week, they were delightfully monotonous. Maths was logical. You were never asked how you feel about the order of operations. Addition always added up, multiplication always multiplied. The problems flowed in a slowly increasing complexity, testing his ability to apply the rules in the correct order, adding powers and brackets then changing the sequence the problem is written in until his eyelids began to droop. Shaking his head to clear it, Peter found that the last three answers he had input to the tablet had been highlighted in red, indicating that they had been answered incorrectly. He stared at the screen, willing the answer to come to him. His brain obstinately refused to supply the response.

He closed his eyes and lowered his head to the surface of the desk, and rolled it left and right. It didn’t make sense. “Why must it be like this? I know I spilled some sauce, but it wasn’t my fault.” He began to gently bang his head on the desk. With each tap fireworks exploded in the darkness behind his eyes. “Why?” Bang. “Why?” Bang. “WHY?” BANG.

The last had been harder than he had intended and Peter rocked back in his chair, opening his eyes to stare at the ceiling. He rubbed his forehead where a small lump was forming, and the dull ache in his head began to throb. This was not going to help with the real problems.

Now I have TWO bullies to deal with. Why is it that big bastards think they can walk all over everyone? Well, not this time. Peter made up his mind. It doesn’t matter how many times I end up in Jacob’s workshop, I’m not taking this one lying down. It’s time to kick someone in the nads.