At last the school bell had rung. It was such a shame the day was wasted indoors, especially with the fine weather we’ve been having. I stuffed my pencils and books into my school bag and made for the door. Students of various heights shuffled and shoved their way to their individual cubby holes.

I waited at the door for an opening and when one presented itself, I slipped into the throng of people and moved with the traffic. Navigating the hallways of school was much like the roadways folks drove their automobiles on; chaotic. I took a right, the crowd parted to allow Mr. Schtarz wheel a loaded trolley of beakers, test tubes and various chemicals to the store room. Traffic resumed temporarily before it came to another halt. Some careless junior had spilled their entire year's worth of schoolwork all over the floor.

‘What a nuisance, what a pain!’

It was the end of the school year and my patience had been exhausted. I pushed aside the crowd of students standing idly, and took a detour to my storage locker.

School was fine, the teachers were fine but the students could drive a man insane. So clumsy and...frustrating in general. Always getting in the way, always interrupting class and making a mess of the cafeteria.

High School was definitely not going to be missed by me. I joined up with the tide of students surging towards the main doors. The mob spewed out into the open courtyard and dispersed in all directions; some going to the park, others to work, but most heading home. Yes, I didn’t envy the ones who would be returning to school. It was mystifying how the trio of clowns I lived with could enjoy being around so many people.

With today being the last day of school, I decided to soak up some sun and take the long way home. I strolled along the cement footpath that bordered the road and immersed myself in the city. Wafts of warm, sweet scents came from the local bakery, run by a dear elderly couple from the southern regions of Germany. Model Gs, Schacht Roadsters, and a Mitchell Special S coughed and wheezed their way over the gravel road. Some thought of me as odd, but I always found the sound of the gravel crunching under the rubber tires to be a soothing one. A vendor was selling apples, fresh picked from the orchards.

‘Ten cents for ten apples? What a steal!’ I excavated my pocket and drew out a dime. I tossed the vendor the coin, and made sure not to bag any of the bruised apples.

I crunched happily on one of the apples as I continued my walk. To make the day last, I decided to make turns at random. The direction of the wind shifted, and the smell of the German bakery was back. My mind became distracted with thoughts of the bakery.

Mister and Missus Koch were loved by the whole town. Given the right conditions, their sweets could be from anywhere in the city. Their cakes could flip your moods with/after a single bite; from sad to happy, angry to calm, putting everyone in a good mood in general. It was amazing how good cooking could make everyone be so much nicer to each other.

It wasn’t just the food that made you feel better, it was themselves as well. One was always greeted with a smile and a boisterous “Guten Tag!” When you had a bad day, they listened to your woes with earnest concern. They shared everyone's ups and downs, and put in an honest effort to help others. One of my friends once made the joke, “those two could get away with murder if they so chose” because there wasn’t an honest to God single person who thought they could do wrong.

“Hey mister, I think you forgot something-something veeery important!”

My thoughts came back to the moment. Mr. and Mrs. Koch’s danishes no longer smelled sweet. The soothing crunch of the gravel became a headache and the refreshing breeze now chilled me. I turned around to see three identical faces smirking at me.

“And what would that be?” I replied, knowing full well that I had everything I needed.

“Your three brothers that you love oh so much”.

“Can it Hector.” Like in the hallway at school, my patience was blown away like leaves by a summer breeze passing by.

“Hey, what did I do?” Whined the one on the left. ‘Ugh wrong one.’

“Gee Ben, can’t you tell who’s who?” Each member of the trio put their arms around identical shoulders and wore identical exaggerated smiles. They all wore collared white shirts, tucked into brown corduroy pants with suspenders slung over their shoulders, their clothes sharing the nature of their faces.

“Maybe if you didn’t share a wardrobe. Now what do you want?” The middle triplet stepped forward and the other two fell into a line behind him.

“Did you forget that we’re supposed to walk home together? You wouldn’t want mother to fret now would you?” He grabbed my hand and gave it a gentle tug, like a bored child trying to get their parents’ attention. I pulled my hand free.

“Mother can fret all she wants. You guys are sixteen, you don’t need my supervision.”

“Aw Benny you’re so cold” the boy at the back said, winking as he did. Donovin was the only one in the family that could wink. Everyone else just blinked with both eyes whenever they attempted it.

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“Well I’m not going home...not right away at least.”

Hector gave a mock gasp, “Where ya headin’ then?” and rose an inquisitive eyebrow.

“Can we come too?” Jonathan chipped in. All three of them sang together like a choir,

“PRETTY PRETTY PLEASE?”

“Don’t you have someone else to bother?” I started walking again, my long strides forced the triplets into a slight jog.

“Not ‘till four,” Jonathan replied in a casual tone. I let out an overly exasperated sigh and made my way to the park. It seemed the whole town was taking advantage of the magnificent weather. Roaming kids free of all responsibilities at schools’ end ran about playing tag, others kicked about a leather ball.

The local band played some beautiful classical pieces on a fresh built wooden stage, while onlookers stopped in the shade to listen. Young couples laid out blankets, pulling out sandwiches and lemonade for a picnic. A pretty girl about the same age as the triplets walked by and distracted them for a precious few moments.

Taking advantage of their sad attempts to look “cool” I stole myself away, made a sudden turn off the park path and jogged to an area dense with trees. The park consisted of maple trees, dotted with the occasional great oak. That was what I found myself under, and worked on the story I had started at the beginning of the year.

It was a fantastical story, filled with all sorts of flying machines and automobiles that could travel at a whopping sixty miles per hour without blowing a tire or melting the engine. In the story, all of the freshwater in the world had evaporated into the air, and the protagonist Dale Lansky had to invent a device that could draw water from the air before everyone died from dehydration.

I laughed to myself. ‘A machine that can remove water from the air? What a ridiculous idea!’ I sat under the tree and wrote until the day grew old. It wasn’t until making out my own writing became difficult that I returned to my senses.

‘It’s dusk now, I suppose it’s time to head home.’

Tomorrow I would head out to Mr. and Mrs. Jansen’s farm in search of work.

* * *

I woke up to the blinding light of the morning sun. I scraped the bedding off of me and leaned onto my side away from the window. The pocket watch father had given to me laid on the bed-side table. The time read to be six o’three. What was the rest of the family doing at six o’three? Sleeping soundly in their cozy dark rooms. My room faced the east, meaning I woke up at the crack of dawn...every single day.

‘It’s no thanks to Hector. If he hadn’t been trying to scare me, the curtains would never have gotten torn.’

When he burst through the curtains and the hanging rod fell and hit him, we did have a good laugh. However, as soon as I saw the gaping hole in the material, our laughter was cut short and Hector bolted out of my room. I didn't make it out to be a big deal until the next morning when I woke up with the sun shining in my eyes.

I dressed myself and walked downstairs to the kitchen and put on the kettle for some tea. I made sure to boil extra water or else mom would get in a tissy and go on about how I “never think of others”. Within minutes the kettle was whistling and I poured myself a steaming mug of tea. While it was the summer, mornings were still often chilly, so a belly full of warm tea would help make the bicycle ride to the Jansen’s farm slightly more comfortable.

I wheeled my bike out from our wooden shed and began the trip to the farm. On a downward slope, I pulled out my pocket watch and read it to be six thirty. Mr. Jansen would already be up and running by now, milking cows or hauling about bales of hay.

After an easy ride coasting downhill I arrived at the farm. The trip home however would be hell, as it would be uphill after a long day of physical labour. Last summer, I only worked for a few weeks since I needed to help dad reshingle a roof. Now that I needed to save for college, my entire summer would be me draining myself. I can’t imagine doing something more difficult and exhausting.

I noticed that the Jansens hadn’t picked up the daily paper yet, so I got it for them and walked to their door. After a few raps with my knuckles, Mrs. Jansen opened it and invited me in.

“It’s nice to see you again Benjamin, and I can assure you there’s lots of work for you this summer.”

“I’m counting on it ma’am.” I said as we walked to the kitchen. I set the paper down on the table.

“Now the pay will be a little less than what you earned last year, since we are hiring more hands this season.”

“That's perfectly alright ma'am. It's understandable since Todd left for medical school. So when would you like me to start? I’m ready to go anytime.”

“Anytime eh? I'll hold you to your word and put you to work right away. Just let me fetch the list of chores from upstairs.”

After Mrs. Jansen came back, I immediately began to work my way down the list.

‘Let's see, I need to collect eggs from the chicken coop, milk the cows and clean their stalls and feed the pigs’

As I worked a couple more boys that graduated alongside me showed up. With more hands on the job, the cows were milked, eggs collected, stalls cleaned and animals fed within just a few tedious hours.

Mrs. Jansen was kind enough to make us some sandwiches. As we ate, she read the newspaper with a perpetually deepening frown.

“Whatever is the matter ma'am?” asked one of the other boys.

With a sigh she said, “fighting on the other side of the pond. I have relatives in Austria and I’m worried for them.”

She set down the paper and started washing dishes. I picked it up and read the article Mrs. Jansen had be looking over.

Chaos in the Austrian empire! Archduke Franz Ferdinand assassinated by a Serbian nationalist, sparking war between the two countries. Russia and Germany square off in support of their respective allies. Surrounding nations mobilize their armies in fear of being drawn into the conflict.

* June 28 1914

‘War? Over one man's actions? Why should an entire country suffer for an individual taking matters into his own hands? The assassin was caught and executed, going to war seems like overkill. Well this is happening a world away, let them slaughter each other. It's not like them killing each other will hurt me in any way.’