After David is caught at the wrong place at the wrong time, his entire life changes in ways he never could have expected. This is a fan fiction taking place in the Whateley Universe.

I originally began reading the Whateley stories when they were first being posted on Sapphire's place, but when that site stopped updating, I stopped reading the new stories in the series. About six months ago, I decided to start catching up on what I'd missed in that universe and have become inspired with a few character and story ideas of my own. I had been planning on writing my next Legacy Universe story next, but my muse decided that I should dip my toe in the Whateley waters first.

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Round and Round
By Morpheus

I was curled up on my bed with tears running down my cheeks as my head pounded in agony. This wasn’t a normal headache or even just a migraine, it was a super migraine. Or worse, it was Migrainezilla.

“It’s going to be all right David,” Mom told me as she put a gentle hand on my shoulder and tried to comfort me. “It’s going to be fine honey…”

At any other time, I would have been offended at my Mom treating me like this, as if I was some kind of a little kid who needed to be babied. After all, I was fifteen years old, hardly a little kid anymore. However, this ungodly pressure in my head was enough to make me grateful for any little relief I could get, even if it was only emotional.

Mom stayed with me for a few more minutes, making soft and comforting noises that I didn’t really pay much attention to. Instead, I just kept my eyes closed since the light only made my head hurt even worse. And though it hurt to even think, I couldn’t help but wondering if this was what a hangover felt like. Last New Years, Dad had complained about having a really bad hangover, saying that it was like being sick to your stomach and having the headache from hell at the same time. That was a lot like how I felt at that moment. Eventually, Mom got up and left my room, turning off the light as she did so.

“Is David sick again?” I heard my little sister Becky exclaim from the hallway. I winced at her loud voice, which was painful at the moment.

“Yes Becky,” Mom answered in a quieter voice. “Now let’s be quiet and let your brother rest…”

After that, everything went quiet, for which I was grateful. Sitting in the dark with no noise except for the faint hum of the ceiling fan was not only relaxing, but exactly what I needed at the moment. I knew from past experience, that this was the best way to get the pounding in my head to go away. Half an hour later, Migrainezilla had receded enough so that it was back to the level of a normal headache and it continued to fade away further.

I finally got up and left my room, then went to the bathroom to take a leak. Afterwards, I splashed some cold water on my face and looked into the bathroom mirror. I winced at the image, deciding that I looked like crap. In fact, I probably looked about as bad as Dad did whenever he came home from work after a sixteen hour shift.

Normally, I didn’t look too bad, or at least not compared to any other boy my age. I was a skinny blonde kid with ears that were just a little too large and with a scar across my chin due to an old childhood accident on the playground. I would have preferred to see a little more muscle in the mirror, but what boy wouldn’t.

When I went to the living room, Mom gave me a smile and asked, “Are you feeling better?”

“For now,” I responded bitterly.

My headaches had started about two months ago, first coming every couple days for no apparent reason. They hadn’t been too strong at first either, no more than any normal headache. But then about a month ago, they became more painful as well as more frequent. Now I was suffering from chronic migraines which usually hit me for an hour or so every day. It was agonizing and frustrating since even the prescription medication didn’t do much for them. All I could do was wait for them to go away on their own.

“We have another appointment with the doctor next week,” Mom reminded me, though I doubted it would do much good. During my last visit, I’d gone through an MRI but they hadn’t found anything. The only good thing that had come from it was the confirmation that I didn’t have a brain tumor, which had actually been one of our worries. “Hopefully, the doctors will find something with this round of tests.”

I nodded at that, though not very enthusiastically. My optimism that the doctors would find out what was wrong with me had faded just a little bit with each new migraine. Now, I just dreaded the thought that I’d spend the rest of my life dealing with them. These chronic migraines had already made things pretty difficult on me and had even cost me my position on the school track team. After all, collapsing in pain in the middle of a track meet didn’t exactly make for a good showing.

I was feeling pretty ragged, which wasn’t normal for me, or at least it hadn’t been before these headaches started. I went to the kitchen and began to fix myself an espresso from the fancy machine Dad had bought a couple months ago, but Mom snatched the coffee beans right out of my hand and shook her head ‘no’.

“No caffeine for you,” Mom reminded me with a faint smile. “Have some orange juice instead. It will be better for you.”

“But Mom,” I protested, giving my best whiney voice, though I knew it wouldn’t do much good. This was something of an old exchange and I knew exactly what her response would be.

“You know good and well you’re not allowed to drink this stuff,” Mom pointed out with a sigh. “The last thing I need is to have you bouncing off the walls again. You’re hyper enough without the caffeine.”

I grinned at that and went to pour myself a glass of juice, knowing that once Mom wasn’t paying attention anymore I’d make myself an espresso. By the time I actually sat down with my orange juice and a cookie, I was feeling much better. My headache had receded completely and my energy level was starting to recover, though of course, some caffeine would definitely help speed up the process.

“Good, you’re up,” Becky exclaimed when she saw me sitting there. Then without waiting for an invitation, she snatched one of my cookies and made a show of eating it right in front of me. “Now I don’t have to be quiet.”

Becky stood there with a smug look on her face, making me wonder what she was up to. I had a feeling that she was thinking of ways to get even with me for making her be quiet while I was dealing with my migraine. The fact that I’d already suffered enough probably never even occurred to her. After all, she was only six years old and a bit…precocious. At least, that was what Mom called her. I just called her a brat, though Mom always laughed at that and said she was just like I was at that age.

“Come on,” Becky announced, as though the decision had already been made. “You’re playing tea party with me.”

I gave Becky a suspicious look, knowing that she wasn’t the kind of girl who usually got into tea parties. In fact, she was more of a tomboy than she was a girlie girl, and the last time someone had given her a doll, she’d promptly cut its hair to give it a Mohawk and then used a permanent marker to give it tattoos as well. The doll hadn’t lasted long beyond that before it was dismembered and scattered throughout the house.

After a moment, I shrugged and said, “Sure, why not?” Honestly, I was curious about what my little sister had in mind. If nothing else, she was never boring.

I soon found that when Becky said tea party, she really meant T party…as in Mister T. She had several dolls and stuffed animals which the two of us proceeded to give mohawks to, then we sat around talking like Mister T. It was actually pretty funny, especially when Becky ‘borrowed’ all of Mom’s necklaces, then started going around the house exclaiming, “I pity the fool…”

The look on Dad’s face when he came home was hilarious, especially when he shook his head and muttered, “That’s it… No more A team reruns…”

Dad was a heavyset man, in no small part because of his career as a professional cook. He owned his own restaurant, a small diner that served breakfast and lunch but wasn’t open for dinner. During the summer and weekends, I frequently worked there washing dishes, cleaning tables, and generally doing anything that needed done. Fortunately, Dad did pay me for my work, which was a good thing since I didn’t get an allowance and that was the only way for me to earn money.

“Too bad about those pesky child labor laws,” Dad joked, giving me a broad grin. “Otherwise I’d be able to keep you two out of trouble by putting you to work full time.”

Dad said the same thing fairly often, though I knew he didn’t mean it. Sure, he liked to put me to work to ‘keep me out of trouble’, as he usually put it, but he also believed that kids needed time to be kids. At fifteen, I certainly didn’t consider myself a kid anymore, but this was one of the occasions when I didn’t argue the point. If I did, Dad might decide to increase my work hours and responsibilities.

“So, do you want me coming in with you tomorrow?” I asked Dad nervously.

Dad hesitated just a moment and then glanced to Mom before responding, “Of course.”

Tomorrow was Saturday, one of the busiest days at the diner and I knew Dad would need all the help he could get. Normally, he wanted me there to work, but he was a bit worried about my headaches and didn’t want to put too much stress on me.

Less than an hour later, we were sitting down for dinner, which consisted of a couple pizzas. After Dad spent most of the day cooking, he usually wasn’t in the mood to do even more of it once he got home, which meant that he often got lazy about dinner and either left it for Mom or ordered out. And as we ate, we turned to our normal topic of dinner conversation, what we did during the day.

“I got into a fight at school,” Becky stated proudly. “That meanie Bobby tried pushing me so I hit him.”

“Young ladies don’t get into fights,” Mom told her, though Becky just shrugged it off as she usually did.

“Then I bet he won’t push you again,” I said, encouraging Becky, who just grinned at that. Mom rolled her eyes and Dad chuckled.

Becky nodded enthusiastically, then said, “If Bobby pushes me again, I’ll hit him so hard his head falls off…”

“BECKY,” Mom gasped while Dad and I just tried to keep from laughing.

“I had something weird happen today,” Dad said a minute later. “A mutant came into the restaurant.” There was a clear note of disapproval in his voice.

“A mutant?” Mom asked in surprise.

“Well, he had pointed ears and solid green eyes,” Dad said with a scowl. “And he ate three whole meals…so I’m pretty sure he was a mutant.”

“What did you do?” Mom asked, looking worried.

Dad snorted at that. “I fed him and got him out of there as quickly as I could. I would have kicked him out but I didn’t know what he would have done if he got angry…”

“You should have called the MCO,” Mom stated. “You know how dangerous those mutants are…”

Suddenly, Becky asked, “What’s a mutant?”

Mom and Dad both paused at that to look at Becky. Then Dad carefully answered, “A mutant is someone who is very sick…”

“Like David?” she asked, looking at me and making me wince.

“Absolutely not,” Dad responded firmly. “Mutants have bad DNA…sort of like cancer. It makes them sick…and dangerous to everyone around them.”

“I think it’s all the pollution,” Mom stated. “We never had all these mutants until we started polluting everything. If we cleaned up the environment and everyone took care of their diet, then I’m sure the mutant problem would just go away…”

I rolled my eyes and ate in silence while Mom and Dad complained about the mutant ‘problem’. It was annoying, but I knew from past experience that they’d soon get bored of this subject and move onto something else.

“So, Becky,” I said, deciding to take an active role in changing the subject. “Didn’t you have a new song you wanted to show Mom and Dad?”

Becky grinned at that and immediately began singing, right there at the dinner table. It was an annoying little song and I saw our parents quickly wince, though they struggled to hold fake smiles filled with false appreciation. My sister’s off tune singing hurt my ears as well, but the looks on Mom and Dad’s faces was enough to make up for it. I just wondered how much more effective this would be if I gave Becky an energy drink. Maybe it was time to introduce her to espresso.