Escape from the Past: Game of Life: An Introduction

by Annette Oppenlander

  Escape from the Past

  Game of Life …An Introduction

  ANNETTE OPPENLANDER

  Other Books by the Author

  Escape from the Past: The Duke’s Wrath (Book 1)

  Escape from the Past: The Kid (Book 2)

  Escape from the Past: At Witches’ End (Book 3)

  A Different Truth

  First published by Oppenlander Enterprises LLC, 2016

  www.annetteoppenlander.com

  Text copyright: Annette Oppenlander 2016

  ISBN: 978-0-9977800-2-4

  All rights reserved. Except for brief quotations in critical articles or reviews, no part of the book may be reproduced in any manner without prior written permission from the publisher.

  The rights of Annette Oppenlander as author have been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  Cover Design: vikncharlie

  © 2016 Annette Oppenlander

  Escape from the Past: Game of Life

  The landscape turned blurry, the pressure behind my eyeballs building, as the bus wound through fields and patches of woods toward Heiligenstadt. This had to be the shittiest day of my life. Well, maybe the second shittiest day, but I’ll get to that.

  In fifteen minutes I’d set foot into my new school. Don’t get me wrong. I’ve been the new kid in plenty of schools, thanks to Dad being in the Army. But this was an entirely different story. Because I was no longer in familiar territory…if you can call the U.S. familiar. Thanks, again to Dad, we’d moved to Germany and I was about to test my less than rudimentary German skills.

  As I entered the schoolyard, sweat trickled down my armpits, a disgusting stickiness that glued my T-shirt to my ribs. Gross. Who’d want to meet this stinky new kid? Why hadn’t I brought deodorant with me?

  “Hey, slow down,” some guy with Barbie-blond hair yelled, his mouth an arrogant sneer. Unsure if he’d addressed me or one of the dozens of mulling teens, I nodded, trying to look cool… and failing.

  I heard laughing and whistling. Apparently, the guy wasn’t finished because next thing I knew his face was two inches from mine.

  The guy was a stud. I mean perfect white teeth, thick hair with a natural lock across his oh so perfect forehead and absolutely clear skin. Disgusting!

  Envy swept through me, but was quickly overtaken by an intense dislike.

  “You in a hurry to get in there?” Mr. Perfect asked.

  “No…nein,” I said, trying to look cool. How does one look cool? A certain swagger in the walk, shoulders relaxed, a slight smirk…well, none of that was a possibility. I probably looked green and I surely wasn’t smiling.

  “Another lousy immigrant.” Laughter broke out among the Mr. Perfect’s friends. “I think we’ve got too many already.”

  I’m German-American you dog-brain, I wanted to say, but all I could do was stare. At the model of a boy and his admirers.

  “Can’t speak German, obviously?” he continued, waving a palm in front of his face to indicate I wasn’t quite right in the head. His friends snickered.

  I could’ve told him he hadn’t really asked a question, but merely stated a fact he obviously hadn’t checked because I owned two passports, so was technically not an immigrant at all. With all his looks his brain was probably pea-sized. But ever since my father left us, I’d lost my will to challenge. It was as if the air had been let out of the football and all that was left was some soft, yielding shell.

  Shaking my head I turned and marched rigidly into the school, wishing the doors would swallow me whole.

  “May I help you?” The woman behind the desk in the director’s office looked up, her expression annoyed. Obviously, I’d interrupted her breakfast, a ham and cheese covered roll she was still chewing.

  “I’m Max Anderson,” I said in horrible German. No other words came to mind even though my mother, who’s German, had taught me plenty.

  “Ah, yes.” The woman rifled through a stack of papers. “Wait here.”

  Where else would I go?

  She straightened, brushing crumbs off her too tight skirt and disappeared in the next room.

  A wave of odors filtered in from the corridor, a smell like all school corridors of wax, a thousand brands of hair spray and lip balm and something darker: stress-induced sweat.

  “Welcome to Gymnasium Heiligenstadt.” The man’s voice was high and grating, his bluish eyes large and glistening behind thick glasses.

  “Danke,” I managed.

  “I’m Herr Direktor Lauterjung,” the man said. “Looks like you’ll join tenth grade. Your mother was sure you’d catch up with German quickly.”

  I nodded. Oh, mom was full of fantastical notions about my language skills. She’d offered to drive me, but I’d rather have my wisdom teeth pulled without anesthesia before I’d show up with her in tow like I were in kindergarten.

  “You coming?” Lauterjung held open the door. How long he’d been standing there was anybody’s guess. I grabbed my backpack and followed him into the hall.

  “We have about six-hundred kids, grades five through twelve,” he said. “There are two tenth-grade classes, one with emphasis in languages, one in sciences.” He threw me a sideward glance. “You picked sciences.”

  I nodded. I sure wasn’t going to pick languages. I’d limped through a couple of years of Spanish in the States which isn’t half as rigorous as studying languages in Germany. My heart hammered louder with every step.

  “This is your classroom.” Lauterjung opened the door.

  ***

  The rest of the morning was a whirlwind of smiling or squinting eyes appraising me, my half-hearted attempt at German small talk, and relief when the last bell sounded. I’d understood most of the material, but my active vocab was deeply buried inside my brain.

  “Max, wait up.”

  I stopped. At first I thought it was another taunt, but then something registered that made me swivel around like a dervish.

  That voice was as surely American as I was male.

  A kid about my age headed my way. He waved again, his greenish eyes full of the relaxed friendliness I’d been craving earlier. With all the confusion of this morning I had no idea if he’d been in my class.

  “I’m Jimmy Stuler,” he said, slightly breathless. “I wanted to catch you earlier during break, but I had to deliver a report. He nodded toward Mr. Perfect, making a face, the kind that’s combines an eye roll with a frown. I knew it well. “I saw you met our head jerk, Michel Hofmann.”

  This time my smile came easy. “You’re American.” All of a sudden I was filled with a hundred questions.

  He nodded and grinned back. “Yeah, from San Francisco. I’ve been here a couple of years. My father runs a gaming company and dragged us to Germany.”

  My ears perked up. “As in computer gaming?” If there’s one thing I love, and I mean LOVE, it’s gaming. Computer games, video, phone, you name it, I’ve probably done it.

  “Yep.” Jimmy grabbed my arm. “Let’s hurry. The bus will be here any sec. I’ll fill you in on the way home.”

  I grinned. Life had a way of throwing punches. But then…it had a way of bringing joy when you least expected it.

  ***

  A new routine settled in quickly. Mornings I rode the bus with Jimmy. We spent afternoons at his place, a ginormous mansion in the same village, Bornhagen. Even if you visited Germany a thousand times you’d never make your way here because Bornhagen is in the middle of nowhere right on the border of Hesse and Thuringia.

  I did my best to stay away from Michel and his admirers, lurking in front of the school gate
s before and after class. I’d feel this heat rise from the pit of my stomach up to my neck, a helpless anger at my life and the jerks who made it worse.

  Classes were the same old boring collection of math, English (my only guaranteed A), sports, geography, history and physics I’d come to loathe in the U.S. and at times I wondered if life could get any worse. Ha. I had no idea.

  I kept my mouth shut most of the time, but my math teacher, Herr Heinrich, had the annoying habit of calling on me. He made me sit in the first row and hovered above. I knew the material since I’d attended AP classes, but the words, a mix of English and German gibberish kept sticking in my throat.

  Just say something my mind urged, yet my tongue kept refusing and so I felt like an idiot.

  “I wish Heinrich wouldn’t call me out all the time.” I leaned back in Jimmy’s gamer chair he’d generously offered, eyes glued to a huge screen where we were playing Minecraft.

  “He’s actually pretty nice, probably thinks he’s helping.”

  I shook my head, my eyes following the play on the monitor. It was probably not the best idea to speak English every chance I got, but I couldn’t help loving it. Every afternoon I headed straight to Jimmy’s house, past the handful of villas and the ancient Klausenhof Inn, a restaurant and hotel, tourists loved for its medieval flair. Bornhagen had less than 350 citizens and I still resented my mother picking this spot for our home.

  Actually, it was all we could afford after Dad decided to leave us the moment we stepped foot on German soil.

  In hindsight it seems he planned it all. Though he insisted the thought of starting a life without us occurred to him after we moved from the U.S.

  Fat chance! We’d planned to live in Frankfurt near his base, but instead my mother chose to settle us near her new job and her sister. Now we live in an old spider-infested cottage. The only thing it has going for it is a little garden with some fruit trees and a patio that would make for a decent party spot…if I ever partied.

  “Come on,” I said, urging my fingers to move faster. Jimmy was two levels ahead and had just scored a bunch of gold. “What sort of games does your father make?”

  “Not sure, exactly. It’s top secret. He’s been working on it for years.”

  I punched pause. “You must know something.”

  Jimmy gave me a look that reminded me of pain and uncertainty, likely the same face I make when asked about my father. “He’s hardly home and when he is, he never talks about stuff.”

  At least he does come home. But I kept quiet because it was clear as spring water that Jimmy and his dad had issues.

  “All I know is that it has to do with history.”

  “You kidding me?”

  “Yeah, I know.” Jimmy stepped to the mini fridge where he kept cokes and offered me one. Jimmy’s place felt as if I’d stepped into some first-class hotel with chrome and glass and marble. “Supposedly it’s different. Something outrageous and cool.”

  “You think he’d let us try it out?” I sure could use a little distraction.

  Jimmy shrugged. By the way he pressed his lips together it was obvious he’d had the same thought.

  ***

  “How is our immigrant today?” Michel, chest puffed, strutted my way. School was out, another day survived, and we were heading toward the bus. Of course, Michel and his friends drove cars because they were Seniors, but he obviously felt the need to brighten my day first. In Germany you couldn’t legally drive until you were eighteen. In my former life I’d be driving now.

  “His name is Max,” Jimmy said.

  For some reason, Michel ignored Jimmy and kept coming. He looked tired today, a filmy gray veil across his brown eyes as if he hadn’t slept much.

  “Why don’t you tell me what you want?” I asked.

  “Go home,” Michel said. “Back to crazy America.”

  I’d love to.

  At home I pleaded my case almost daily, but my mom was adamant. “I’ve got a good job now and we’re making a new start. You’ll get used to it.”

  “I won’t,” I’d yell. “Ever.” But my mother was obviously not interested in my wellbeing, only in getting herself settled into her native country.

  “Pay attention when I talk to you.” Michel’s perfect face scrunched into a frown.

  “What?” I blurted. Lately, I zoned out a lot. Mostly in class, but obviously it had happened again. It was as if someone pulled a black cloak over my head, my mind going inward.

  “I said I want you to stay out of my way. Stop polluting our space with your presence.”

  For a moment I considered popping Michel into his perfect nose. Now, that would’ve been suicide. Michel was several inches taller and had thighs and biceps like a football player.

  “Come on, let’s go.” Jimmy tugged at my arm. I hung my head and followed my only friend, wondering why Michel left him alone and if it had anything to do with Jimmy’s father being rich like Michel’s.

  As we lined up at the bus stop cars honked, Michel driving past and throwing me a nasty grin and showing a middle finger as if to say…You’re so fucked. I look forward to making your life miserable.

  “Just 311 days until school is out.” I swallowed, but the bitter taste in my mouth remained. Soon Michel would use me as a punching bag.

  Jimmy poked me in the arm. “Ignore him. He’ll get tired of it.”

  Easy for you to say. But I kept my mouth shut, shifting my attention to the highlight of my day, three hours of uninterrupted gaming with Jimmy.

  “I wonder if I could get a job with your dad,” I said once we settled on the bus. The idea of doing something related to computer games had been growing in my head for months. I knew I’d eventually study informatics or computer sciences, but how could you pass up the fact that your best friend’s father owned a gaming company?

  I felt Jimmy’s gaze on my temple.

  “Don’t think he talks to students. Besides, his company is in Kassel. Too far.”

  “Have you ever been to visit?”

  “A couple of times.”

  “And?”

  Jimmy grabbed his pack as the bus came to a stop. “Nothing, it’s just a big building with lots of people working.”

  “Oh, come on, you love gaming. How can you not be interested?”

  “Father doesn’t want me involved.”

  I almost grabbed his shoulder to see his face, but then we were lining up to leave the bus.

  “He surely knows you…we… play stuff every day.”

  “I guess.”

  As we entered the driveway to Jimmy’s mansion where the black domes of several cameras stared from fences, garages and entry doors I couldn’t help but wonder if there were more inside.

  Something told me that Dr. Stuler knew a lot more about his son’s activities than Jimmy realized.

  ***

  “I don’t like you spending every free minute with that American boy.” My mom stood in the door to my room, arms folded across her chest, her eyes tired yet determined. “I’m happy you met a friend, but you need to practice German.”

  “I do all morning in school and with you.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  I didn’t answer and returned my gaze to my history book. Stupid boring battles and treaties. Who could keep track of it? Who cared? Why would Jimmy’s dad create some yawn-inducing history game?

  “Dinner is in ten minutes.”

  I kept staring at my book, the old anger clogging my throat. A year ago we’d been happily living in the U.S. Then my father had announced his promotion and our move to Germany.

  My mother had been super excited because her entire family lives in Germany and she’d finally be back in her home country. Nobody asked what I wanted though I admit at the time I’d been excited. Except our plan fizzled like stale lemonade.

  The only cool thing this place had to offer was the old ruin of Castle Hanstein, a medieval burg high above the village. Fused to the rock more than six hundred years ago, it must
’ve been some amazing place. Now people used the restored knight’s hall for weddings and anniversaries. That and the Klausenhof were the only cool things around.

  “I thought we left all that behind,” my mom mumbled after dinner, folding the paper in front of her. We sat in our beach towel sized living room, me trying to pass the necessary half hour before I could sneak off to my room to play the new edition of World of Warcraft.

  Don’t get me wrong. I love my mom. But sitting around like that drives me crazy. Sunday nights are the worst because they remind me how we used to hang out together as a family. Dad and I playing a game or watching TV. It feels so wrong like this. All I want to do now is disappear and be left alone.

  “What?”

  “A young man from Heiligenstadt is missing.” My mom retrieved the article. “Says here, they don’t know what happened. He just vanished.”

  “Maybe he ran away.” The thought had been on my mind though I hadn’t the faintest idea where I’d go.

  “They say there’s no evidence. He didn’t even pack any clothes, just disappeared. Didn’t take his phone…What kid these days does anything without his phone?”

  I shrugged. What did it matter? Some guy had had enough and walked out. I knew dozens of kids who hated their lives. Heck, I was one of them.

  ***

  “Did you hear?” Jimmy said as we made our way through the mass of students in front of the school the next morning.

  “What?” My mind was on the Physics test and the certainty I’d fail.

  “Michel is missing.”

  “Michel who?”

  To my surprise Jimmy shot me a look. “They say he went missing from his room.”

  My mom’s comment from last night came back to me. “Couldn’t have happened to a nicer guy. When?”

  “Saturday afternoon. Was in yesterday’s paper. His parents say last time they saw him, he was on the computer playing a game.”

  “Half of the school plays games.”

  “Where would you go if you wanted to run away?”

  I shrugged. “No idea. Back to the States.”