Back to the Future Part II Read Online Free PDF Page B

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 McFly 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.
    ‘Now,’ Griff began in a tone that suggested what little patience he had had was long since used up, ‘let’s hear the right answer, or you’re gonna get’ - his free hand made a fist - ‘a knuckle brioche!'
    Marty landed on his feet and shoved Griff back. Marty’s hands automatically closed into fists as well.
    Griff and the gang all took a step back.
    ‘Well, well, well,’ Griff murmured as his smirk returned. ‘Since when did you become’- he paused to glance knowingly at his gang members - ‘the physical type?’
    Marty looked down at his clenched fist. He had to watch it. He wasn’t acting like his son. Junior, would act. Doc Brown was right - this changing the future business was tricky. If Griff and the others got suspicious, it might spoil everything.
    He opened his hand and raised it in a gesture of peace. But his voice was still firm as he spoke;
    ‘Look. Griff, the answer's no.’
    ‘No?’ Griff asked, the single syllable somehow slow and menacing.
    ‘N-O,’ Marty spelled it out.
    He turned and walked for the door.
    'What’s wrong, McFly?’ Griff called after him. ‘Chicken?’
    Marty stopped, three feet short of the door. It had gotten awfully hot in here all of a sudden. He could feel his two hands wanting to make fists all over again, and this time, he knew those fists were serious!
    Nobody, but nobody, called Marty McFly chicken.
    ‘I told you he's got no scroat!’ the girl crowed.
    The other guy, the