Free The Jovian Legacy by Lilla Nicholas-Holt

planes, any sort of planes.
    They
sit, swinging their legs, talking about what they are going to do
when they grow up. Already knowing what Nick wants to do, Jack
patiently listens while he goes on and on about his future as a jet
fighter pilot.
    At
least he has a goal in life, unlike some people in this town who walk
up and down with long sad faces, he reckons.
    D etermined
he isn’t going to work simply to make ends meet, Jack has his
goal in life too. Once he finishes at the American Military
University and attains his MS degree in Space Studies, he wants to be
a rocket scientist, work at NASA and be paid an insane amount of
money. He also wants to do some travelling beforehand as he is
fascinated with the Egyptian people and how they built the great
pyramids.
    The
school had a man come and talk to the class about computers, and
about how they were going to be the way of the future. The school
was going to do some fundraising to purchase one. The man had showed
them a video of someone using one and what it could do. Jack was
hooked. Little did he know then where his knowledge of computers
would take him.
    At
a quarter to eleven the boys start heading home, as Jack knows he has
a fairly long ride ahead of him. His legs start to ache and he
wonders if he might have overdone it a bit.
    After
two friends wave goodbye to each other, Jack pedals madly to get home
before noon. He makes it back with five minutes to spare, and
completely exhausted. He lays on his bed for a few minutes trying to
get his breath back, and then has a quick shower before his
grandparents turn up.
    They’ll
probably want to hug me and tell me how much I’ve grown.
    “My,
look how much you’ve grown!” His grandmother has him in a
bear hug, and Jack couldn’t help noticing that her moustache
looks even more conspicuous.
    His grandfather shakes his hand and
pats him on the back. “Happy birthday Son. Into the double
numbers now, aye. Soon you’ll be bringing home some sweet
young sheilas,” he laughs. His grandfather always teases him
about girls. At his age Jack thinks of them as nothing but wusses.
    Jack’s
grandmother passes him a large square parcel wrapped in birthday
paper with an almost baby young pattern on it. He thanks her, takes
it over to the table and opens it.
    Jack
lifts out the remote-control racing car and holds it up. “Orh
yeah!” he exclaims. “Thanks Gramps, thanks Nana, just
what I wanted!”
    “Why
don’t you go and get your present from us and bring it inside
to show your grandparents?” his father says, smiling at him.
    Jack
goes outside to get his bike. The Lucre Box is still sitting on the
tray, attached by a bungy cord. Taking the cord off, Jack carries
the Lucre Box to his bedroom and sits on the bed with it. He smooths
his hands over the lid and fingers its gold inscription. As he does
so he sees a rainbow of colours sparkle off the lettering.
    Must
be reflecting off the sun, he
considers, placing the box on his dresser, when he notices it again.
The box, he sees, is in the shade. Jack feels a shiver run up his
spine.
    Maybe
there was something in what Nick was ranting on about after all ,
he wonders, feeling a stab of guilt for thinking Nick was gullible.
Jack realises that he’s pretty lucky to have a friend like
Nick, an honest boy with a quiet demeanour, even if a little naïve.
Jack scrutinises the cryptic message, trying to make sense of it,
and suddenly feeling uneasy. The message has an effect on him, the
symbols beginning to swim around in his eyes.
    The
distant calling of his name brings Jack out of his reverie. It is
his mother’s voice. Jack ignores it and focuses on the symbols
again.
    What
the heck does that mean? he
thinks.
    “Jack!”
his mother calls again, a little louder. He knows he is being rude.
With a sigh Jack sets the Lucre Box down on the chest of drawers,
goes out to collect his bike, and takes it in to show his
grandparents.
    “My
my, that’s a spiffing bicycle, lad,” his