The Basement - 1
For as long as he could remember, Calvin's parents were a bit overprotective of him. He'd had a terrible sickness when he was an infant and after his recovery they feared losing him for good. They were informed that he had mostly recovered, but despite the best help his parents could afford they couldn't fully heal him. He had a daily reminder of this, in the form of a potion he had to drink each morning. He called it his "special shake", and was told it was a mixture of vitamins, minerals, and a few other things that he probably didn't want to know about. It was concocted to keep his ailment at bay, and because of it he was supposedly able to lead a long, normal life. Normal-ish, anyway. At least it didn't taste like the usual medicine he had to take for anything else that he came down with.
I should get out of bed, Mom will be calling me any minute, Calvin thought to himself. Almost on queue, he heard her soft voice echo up the staircase.
"Calvin, breakfast is ready!" Valerie called. Her voice, although expected each morning, was still pleasant for him to hear. Calvin liked routine, and the very few times that he didn't wake up to her voice he felt off for the rest of the day.
Calvin hopped out of bed, gave a big yawn and stretch, and then waved his hand. His closet opened wide and clothes flew out and around him. He lazily stepped into his jeans, raised his arms for his shirt, and then sat back on the bed momentarily while his socks and shoes found their places on his feet.
A slight pain ran up his arm. Calvin looked down and noticed one of his shoelaces was hanging limp, untied, from his shoe. "Must be a bit off today," he said, before bending down and tying it. He grabbed his favorite cap from the hook on his door before heading out and down the stairs.
Pleasant aromas met him before he hit the landing, waking him up just a bit more. Pancakes, his favorite, were waiting for him, with butter and Dad's delicious maple syrup set out on the table. His mom was just getting the last drop of orange juice into a pitcher as he rounded the corner.
"Hi Mom! Hi Dad!" Calvin said in his best chipper voice.
"Morning, Son," said his dad. He flashed Calvin a smile. He was sitting at the table, plate before him, although he paid it little mind. His attention was on his phone, as it was most mornings. He was most likely watching the stocks for any changes that morning. Bruce Freedman, Calvin's father, was a stock broker, although Calvin didn't really know what that meant. He did know, however, that it sometimes meant long hours at the office, and every once in a while he and his mom had to fend for themselves for entertainment on the weekends.
"You can't fool me, sweetie,"said his mom as she set a plate of pancakes and a glass of orange juice in front of him. "I know you were up late again playing those video games. I can see it in your eyes." She bent down and gazed at him for a second. As hard as he tried, Calvin could never not smile when his mom did that.
"Yeah...sorry about that," he mumbled. "I'll be OK for school, though. Nothing ever happens on a Tuesday, anyway."
"I hope so, young man, or we may have to take that TV out of your room for a while," Valerie called over her shoulder as she stepped back to the counter to make her plate. Bruce's ears perked up a bit at that, and he mouthed the words "Not we" as he pointed at Valerie. Calvin stifled a giggle.
"I heard that," Valerie said, without missing a beat. Bruce grimaced for a second, threw a wink at Calvin and then went back to his phone, but not before taking a bite of his pancakes. Calvin pointed at his fork and waved his finger. The fork levitated up off the table and, together with the knife, cut out a portion of pancake for him. Before it could reach his mouth, his mother turned around.
"What did I tell you about magic at the table?" Valerie asked.
"Not to use it. Sorry, Mom," Calvin said sheepishly.
I should get out of bed, Mom will be calling me any minute, Calvin thought to himself. Almost on queue, he heard her soft voice echo up the staircase.
"Calvin, breakfast is ready!" Valerie called. Her voice, although expected each morning, was still pleasant for him to hear. Calvin liked routine, and the very few times that he didn't wake up to her voice he felt off for the rest of the day.
Calvin hopped out of bed, gave a big yawn and stretch, and then waved his hand. His closet opened wide and clothes flew out and around him. He lazily stepped into his jeans, raised his arms for his shirt, and then sat back on the bed momentarily while his socks and shoes found their places on his feet.
A slight pain ran up his arm. Calvin looked down and noticed one of his shoelaces was hanging limp, untied, from his shoe. "Must be a bit off today," he said, before bending down and tying it. He grabbed his favorite cap from the hook on his door before heading out and down the stairs.
Pleasant aromas met him before he hit the landing, waking him up just a bit more. Pancakes, his favorite, were waiting for him, with butter and Dad's delicious maple syrup set out on the table. His mom was just getting the last drop of orange juice into a pitcher as he rounded the corner.
"Hi Mom! Hi Dad!" Calvin said in his best chipper voice.
"Morning, Son," said his dad. He flashed Calvin a smile. He was sitting at the table, plate before him, although he paid it little mind. His attention was on his phone, as it was most mornings. He was most likely watching the stocks for any changes that morning. Bruce Freedman, Calvin's father, was a stock broker, although Calvin didn't really know what that meant. He did know, however, that it sometimes meant long hours at the office, and every once in a while he and his mom had to fend for themselves for entertainment on the weekends.
"You can't fool me, sweetie,"said his mom as she set a plate of pancakes and a glass of orange juice in front of him. "I know you were up late again playing those video games. I can see it in your eyes." She bent down and gazed at him for a second. As hard as he tried, Calvin could never not smile when his mom did that.
"Yeah...sorry about that," he mumbled. "I'll be OK for school, though. Nothing ever happens on a Tuesday, anyway."
"I hope so, young man, or we may have to take that TV out of your room for a while," Valerie called over her shoulder as she stepped back to the counter to make her plate. Bruce's ears perked up a bit at that, and he mouthed the words "Not we" as he pointed at Valerie. Calvin stifled a giggle.
"I heard that," Valerie said, without missing a beat. Bruce grimaced for a second, threw a wink at Calvin and then went back to his phone, but not before taking a bite of his pancakes. Calvin pointed at his fork and waved his finger. The fork levitated up off the table and, together with the knife, cut out a portion of pancake for him. Before it could reach his mouth, his mother turned around.
"What did I tell you about magic at the table?" Valerie asked.
"Not to use it. Sorry, Mom," Calvin said sheepishly.
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