‘Hey, McFly!’
Marty Senior peeked above the counter long enough to see Griff and his gang walk through the door.
‘Hi. Griff - Junior replied hesitantly, ‘- guys. How’s it going?’
Griff walked right up to him. ‘Hey, McFly. your shoe's untied.'
Junior looked down at his sneakers as Griff flicked the other boy’s nose with his index finger. The gang laughed. Marty couldn’t believe it - his son fell for a joke that had been old back in 1955, when Biff used it on George McFly, Junior's grandfather! And it was worse than that. Even though he was the butt of the joke, Junior had laughed, too, along with the rest of them.
The déjà vu feeling was back, but this time it lurched around in Marty’s stomach. There was something about Junior, something that reminded Marty Senior an awful lot of the teenaged George McFly, back in 1955. Maybe it was the way Junior’s coat didn’t quite seem to fit. like the coat's uni-form-fit-patch was broken or something; or maybe it was those food stains on his white t-shirt; or the way his hair had been shoved, uncombed, under the colour-changing cap. Yep, Marty Senior had to admit it. No wonder Griff picked on him. His son was a prime McF
ly nerd.
So, McFly,' Griff smirked, ‘have you made your decision about - tonight’s little opportunity?’
Oh. no! This was what Doc had sent Marty to stop, and here he was hiding behind the counter while his son was out there with Griff, about to ruin his life!
‘Uh, well,’ Junior began in the awkward way he seemed to use around Griff, ‘I’m still not sure. It seems kinda dangerous -’
All right! Marty Senior thought. Way to go, son of mine! You tell them! Marty Senior almost cheered. Maybe Doc had been worried about this whole thing for nothing. No matter what he looked like, a son of Marty’s had to have spunk!
‘What's wrong?’ The female gang member stared at Junior with a twisted grin. ‘You got no scroat?’
Griff nodded in a way that said - yeah, anybody named McFly had to be scroatless.
‘What's it gonna be, McFly?’ he demanded. ‘You in or out?’
‘Well’ - Junior hesitated, his eyes darting from one gang member to another - ‘I don’t really think I should, but I guess I should discuss it with my father -’
That’s right! Marty made a fist where he hid behind the counter. Marty Senior would tell his son just what to do, and he’d tell the gang where to go, too!
‘Are you saying no, McFly?’ Griff cut off Junior’s ramblings.
‘Uh,’ Junior muttered, ‘well, yes.’ He tried to smile politely. ‘That is. I’m saying, “no, thank you”.’
Griff grabbed Junior’s shoulders.
‘Wrong answer, McFly.’
He picked Junior up and tossed him over the counter! Junior crumpled with a groan a yard away from Marty.
Griff’s gang laughed.
‘Now, now,' the Reagan video chided, ‘let’s behave ourselves!’
Marty looked back at his future son. Junior lay there, eyes closed.
‘Yeah, Griff,’ he muttered, ‘sure, whatever you say -’
No, no. Junior couldn’t mean what he was saying. He was delirious!
And he was in no shape to face Griff again.
‘Stay down and shut up!’ Marty whispered in Junior’s ear. His future son moaned softly with his eyes still shut.
It was up to Marty - Marty Senior, now. He took a deep breath and stood up.
Griff grabbed his jacket and pulled Marty back over the counter.