Saturday, Quentin Carnival, somewhere in rural Texas
Today's show had gone pretty good, Johnny Blaze though to himself. He and his Dad had gotten a pretty good sized crowd today to see the show, and although he'd wobbled a bit on the wall riding this afternoon, he managed to make the big final jump through a ring of fire without bumping his Dad, or getting the leg of his riding suit singed.
Which was why he was more than a little surprised when his Dad dropped a backpack next to where he was in the maintenance tent behind the carnival's main ring.
"Pack up, hotshot," Barton Blaze said, sitting down sideways on the motorcycle seat, and lighting up a cigarette. Johnny hated just how much his Dad smoked. "I signed you up for a boarding school program, an' it starts on Monday."
Johnny looked up with a mix of confusion, and a little bit of hurt. "You don't want me here?"
His Dad shook his head. "It ain't that," he said. "It's just ... one day, you're gonna grow up, and you'll need to have some actual proper education under your belt, even if you're still working for the Quentin Carnival."
He pulled out a much folded and crinkled pamphlet and handed it to his son. Johnny raised an eyebrow at the cover.
"Fandom High? You're sendin' me to a school in Virginia?"
"Yep," his Dad said. "Take a look at it."
Johnny flipped it open to read it over. Scenic coastal local, wide variety of classes, fun extracurricular activities, no alien invasions or zombie attacks at all (and why did they even need to mention that? Johnny wondered), neighbourhing town, etc. Johnny had to admit, that for all of the random boarding schools his Dad could have picked to ship him off to this one looked like it might be okay.
"You're really gonna do this to me," he said to his Dad, knowing full well that Barton Blaze rarely if ever changed his mind once he'd decided something.
"Yeah," replied his Dad.
"Can I take Grace?" he asked hopefully. His Dad's customized '68 panhead Harley was a beautiful bike, and the closest thing to a Mother that Johnny could remember.
His Dad snorted derisively. "You ain't man enough for Grace yet, hotshot." After a minute of thinking about it, however, he did reach over to grab another set of keys from the pushpin board in the side of the maintenance tent. "You can take the stuntbike, though. Give ya something to keep your skills in shape over there."
"Thanks," Johnny said appreciatively. Real guys like them didn't show love through hugs or talking about emotions; they showed it through motorbikes.
Maybe being sent off to school would end up being okay.
Which was why he was more than a little surprised when his Dad dropped a backpack next to where he was in the maintenance tent behind the carnival's main ring.
"Pack up, hotshot," Barton Blaze said, sitting down sideways on the motorcycle seat, and lighting up a cigarette. Johnny hated just how much his Dad smoked. "I signed you up for a boarding school program, an' it starts on Monday."
Johnny looked up with a mix of confusion, and a little bit of hurt. "You don't want me here?"
His Dad shook his head. "It ain't that," he said. "It's just ... one day, you're gonna grow up, and you'll need to have some actual proper education under your belt, even if you're still working for the Quentin Carnival."
He pulled out a much folded and crinkled pamphlet and handed it to his son. Johnny raised an eyebrow at the cover.
"Fandom High? You're sendin' me to a school in Virginia?"
"Yep," his Dad said. "Take a look at it."
Johnny flipped it open to read it over. Scenic coastal local, wide variety of classes, fun extracurricular activities, no alien invasions or zombie attacks at all (and why did they even need to mention that? Johnny wondered), neighbourhing town, etc. Johnny had to admit, that for all of the random boarding schools his Dad could have picked to ship him off to this one looked like it might be okay.
"You're really gonna do this to me," he said to his Dad, knowing full well that Barton Blaze rarely if ever changed his mind once he'd decided something.
"Yeah," replied his Dad.
"Can I take Grace?" he asked hopefully. His Dad's customized '68 panhead Harley was a beautiful bike, and the closest thing to a Mother that Johnny could remember.
His Dad snorted derisively. "You ain't man enough for Grace yet, hotshot." After a minute of thinking about it, however, he did reach over to grab another set of keys from the pushpin board in the side of the maintenance tent. "You can take the stuntbike, though. Give ya something to keep your skills in shape over there."
"Thanks," Johnny said appreciatively. Real guys like them didn't show love through hugs or talking about emotions; they showed it through motorbikes.
Maybe being sent off to school would end up being okay.