Molly's - Chapter 11 [Tankiverse Fanfic]

[Hippin_in_Hawaii 639]

Molly’s - Chapter 11

Fanfic in the Tankiverse by Hippin_in_Hawaii

 
Summertime is a different world, at least for young people. There is no school, and depending how adept you are at avoiding summer programs, it’s a time of freedom. No responsibilities, no alarm clocks, no homework, just fun! At least, that’s what you tell yourself as you count down the months, then the weeks, then the days, then the hours, minutes, and seconds until the final school bell for the year.
 
Parents have a different viewpoint, I think. They seem to feel like your days should continue to be filled with things. In years past, mine had made sure to sign me up for every summer program imaginable. Some of them I actually enjoyed; others, I’d have rather gone to the dentist. But this year was different because of Molly’s.
 
There were still summer programs I wanted to do. I think I said earlier that I like maths and sciences, and there were summer programs in physics, engineering, precalc, applied trig, and a few others that I was excited about. My folks forced me into a couple of university prep seminars, despite that being years away. I even agreed to take a couple of music classes, inspired by memories of Olaf’s crew playing and singing, thinking maybe I could be part of that next year.
 
I did not, though, get forced to choose programs just to keep me busy. My parents knew that if I had spare time, I was likely to spend it at Molly’s. So no intramurals this year. No dance. No horse camp. With very few exceptions, if I didn’t want to go, my parents didn’t push back. It was pretty liberating!
 
Weekdays at Molly’s were a different experience. I had no idea that Molly had a sales staff, for instance. Glorinda worked the front; she was every bit the gorgeous princess you’d expect from someone with such a name. I was fascinated by the fact someone so lovely, so impeccably put-together, could work in a salvage yard without ever getting a smudge on her hands or a spot on her dress. I learned that she had two superpowers. First, as I said, she always looked perfect. Second, she could upsale like you would not believe. I’m not kidding you when I say I watched people come in for small replacement components, such as a dozen tread links, and leave with an entire new weapon assembly. Then they would come back the next week and have it happen again!
 
Matt worked out of an office in the back. He spent most of his time either telcomming or on the GlobeNet, which he could easily have done from home, but he preferred the companionship at Molly’s. He was a slob, but a very cute slob. I came to find out that he was single-handedly to blame for the awful smell I’d encountered when I first came here. Still, he was friendly, charming, and had a wickedly sarcastic sense of humor. He was as perfect at interfacing with remote clients as Glorinda was in person.
 
I had met the mechanics at Olaf’s party, but now, I found myself working at their sides most days. All three were very talented and capable, but of course each had specialities. Maurine was the resident expert on hydraulics. “Maurine makes it move!” was what we said. Gran was incredibly intuitive about electronics and computer interfaces, but didn’t get a catchphrase. Neither did Conrad, who could make an engine sing. While it was an accepted truth that most engines, when in peak condition, were between five and ten percent more efficient than their manufacturers claimed, Conrad prided himself on getting at least a fifteen percent performance boost out of any engine he touched.
 
With me at their sides, we spent our days finishing the work that Olaf and his crew had begun. All of the components that had been stripped from broken tanks had to be cleaned, evaluated, and serviced. Some were rebuilt to be sold as units; others were dissected to be used as parts. I began to get pretty savvy in both directions.
 
Gran, Conrad, and Maurine had worked together at Molly’s for years, and had a rhythm. Unlike Olaf’s organized chaos which had plenty of room for additional hands, it was a real challenge for me to find ways to be helpful instead of getting in the way. My comings and goings for various school programs didn’t help. One day, I walked into Molly’s to find Molly and the mechanics (doesn’t that sound like a great name for a band?) sitting in the break room together.
 
“Tad! Come in, grab a donut, and have a seat,” said Molly.
 
Oh, crap.
 
I did as instructed, not even looking at the box to see what kind of donut I had picked. This couldn’t be good.
 
“We’ve been talking about how to best make use of you for the rest of the summer. We’re concerned that things haven’t developed organically, and want to make sure that we find a productive way to continue your growth.”
 
Yeah, whenever grownups start talking like that, you can bet that I’m about to be very unhappy. I took a mechanical bite of my donut. Coconut. It figures; I hate coconut.
 
“Molly, you’re scaring our poor Tadpole!” said Gran. “Tad, just tell us, what do you want?”
 
I looked at her blankly, donut crumbs falling in my lap. “Wud do I wan?” I mumbled around a mouthful of tropical ick.
 
“Yes, what do you want. Clearly you love being here. Why? What do you want?”
 
What did I want? No one had ever asked me that before. Ok, that’s not true. People asked me that all the time. My parents asked. My teachers asked. My friends asked. But usually it related to breakfast choices, or after school programs, or weekend movies. What Gran was asking me felt like a very different kind of “What do you want?”
 
So, what did I want? “I love tanks,” my mouth said, having managed to choke down the gross pastry. While my brain was genuinely curious about what was going to come out next, my mouth continued: “I think I’d like to build them one day.”
 
I suppose, were there to be a moment in the movie of my life to cue the dramatic music, that would have been a really good spot.
 

Mahalo (thank you) for reading; I hope you enjoyed! This story is part of a series. Information on the series, and links to the other stories, can be found here.

[kaisdf 3,320]

Article approved.

 

Fantastic continuation to the story! I must say you have a fantastic ability to pick names, you must let me in on your secret at some point :ph34r:

 

Very accurate.

 

Edit:

• "[…] depending at how adept you are […]" to "[…] depending on […]"

[P.4.R.K.O.U.R 329]

Niceeeeeeee with a dozen 'e's.

[Quarks 2,255]

Now I feel like my story series (plural? is bry working on something new, who know) are inadequate. Then again, that was never really my strong suit, opinion and guides were always my bread and butter.

[P.4.R.K.O.U.R 329]

opinion and guides were always my bread and butter.

You eatz opinion and guidez everyday? Iz Conq ur cheff?

[Quarks 2,255]

You eatz opinion and guidez everyday? Iz Conq ur cheff?

I was a reporter before anyone on the team was (except admins, they've been on staff longer, though flex beat me by like, 2 months or so), I was one of the first AWS writers, and no, Conq is not my chef.

[P.4.R.K.O.U.R 329]

I was a reporter before anyone on the team was (except admins, they've been on staff longer, though flex beat me by like, 2 months or so), I was one of the first AWS writers, and no, Conq is not my chef.

So you mean you are so ancient that you are an AWS ghost and eat opinion and guides instead of bread and butter? A balanced diet, I must say.

 

 

No kill pls

 

[Quarks 2,255]

So you mean you are so ancient that you are an AWS ghost and eat opinion and guides instead of bread and butter? A balanced diet, I must say.

 

 

No kill pls

 

Breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

 

 

 

i KILLLLEEEEEE U!!!11111!!!!1

 

[tweezers 1,034]

 

“I think I’d like to build them one day.”

 

 

...not drive them? cri

[P.4.R.K.O.U.R 329]

 

Here comes the instrument man we expected.