Young Writers Society

(Sorry the title's uninteresting...work-in-progress. I just wanted some feedback on this scene)

Shawn is a freshman and Cassie is in kindergarten. Their dad, Chris, walked out on the family a little more than a year before, after years of anger, alcoholism, and cheating. Unknown to Shawn, their mom, Amanda, has had clinical depression since she was 14 and has been feeling overwhelmingly dark and hopeless since Chris left.

Shawn turned the corner, passed the cafeteria and flew down the back steps. He’d left his jacket in his locker and the October wind flew around his face and cut into his arms.

Luckily there was no one else eating outside on a day like this, so Shawn was alone as he pulled his cell phone from the pocket of his jeans and punched in his mom’s number. “I swear to God this better be important.” He muttered and sat down on a picnic bench.

Amanda answered on the second ring. “Hello?”

“Mom, what is it?”

“Oh, it’s you.” She said. “Why didn’t you pick up your phone? I’ve tried to call you three times in the last hour.”

Shawn rolled his eyes. “I dunno, maybe there’s this thing called school? You’re lucky I didn’t get my phone taken away.”

“Lose the attitude, Shawn. You’re lucky you’re too old for me to smack you for that. I’m sorry I called you at school.”

“What do you want, Mom?” He crushed a few dried leafs under his sneaker.

“How soon can you get out?”

“Three o’clock. The bell rings at three o’clock every single day. I’ll be home by three-fifteen. Just like I am every single day.”

“No, you’re not listening.” Amanda said sharply. “Cassie doesn’t feel good and I need you to go pick her up. The nurse said she has a fever and she can’t let her stay at school.”

“I’ve got three classes left.”

“Shawn, I really need you to do this for our family. I’ll call you out so you’re not counted absent.”

Shawn took a deep breath of cool air and blew it out in a huff. “Why can’t you pick her up?”

“Please, Shawn.” She begged. “My manager said if I miss anymore days this month he’ll cut my pay and we’re already getting behind because of everything with the fines last month.”

“That’s not my fault.”

Amanda paused a second. “No, Shawn, it’s not your fault. But you are a part of this family and today I need your help. You wanna eat at the end of the month? Do you want hot water and TV?”

She kept going as Shawn took the phone away from his ear. He could still hear her going on and on. “Dammit.” He said under his breath, then cut her off. “Mom, stop it. We’re not as freaking poor as you think we are.”

“Shawn, you listen to me. All I know is that I am overwhelmed and I am tired and Cassie has a fever. She can’t sit in that nurse’s office all day long and I can’t get out of work right this second.”

“Okay.” Shawn sighed. “I guess I can go pick her up. You have to remember to write me a note for my afternoon classes, though.”

“I will.“ She snapped.

“Bye.”

“Bye.”

Shawn groaned and stuffed his phone back into his rear pocket. Instead of going back inside for his jacket or his lunch, he shifted his backpack on his shoulders and went to the other side of the picnic tables to the bike rack.

.

Shawn arrived at the door of the nurse’s office windblown and flustered.

The nurse looked up from her desk and raised her eyebrows. “Can I help you?”

“I’m Shawn, Cassie McKenzie’s my little sister. My mom said that she needed to be picked up.”

“And you’re going to take her home?”

“My mom’s on her way home from work, but it’ll be awhile, and Mom didn’t want Cassie to just be sitting here waiting all that time. I already went by the office and they know I'm taking her.”

“Don’t you have school?”

“I’m on my lunch hour. I’ll take Cassie home and then go right back to school.”

“And leave her alone?”

“Of course not!” He could feel his temper flaring. He took a deep breath to push it back down his chest. “I’ll wait with her until my mom gets back.”

“How old are you?”

“Fourteen. Can I please just take my sister home?”

She put her hands on her hips. “Don’t you get snippy with me, young man.”

“Sorry.” Shawn mumbled.

“How do you plan to get home?”

“We don’t live very far, we can walk.”

The nurse hesitated. “Alright,” she said. “I suppose you can take her home.”

“Thank you.” Shawn said stiffly and followed her past a large cabinet of supplies to a curtained-off corner. Cassie lay on a cot, but she didn’t look comfortable. She laid flat on her back, stiff, like a little toy soldier who’d been pushed over.

Shawn nudged her. “Hey Cass.” He said, and she sat up. “You not feeling good?”

“Nuh-uh.” She said. Cass was usually so animated and hyper, it worried Shawn to see her so tired. She reached out and wrapped her arms around Shawn’s neck.

“She has a temperature of a hundred and two.” The nurse crossed her arms over her chest and stared coldly at Shawn, as if it was his fault.

Even though she was a great big five year old, Shawn scooped Cassie up and held her on his hip. “I’ll take her home, then.” A lock of hair had fallen out of her ponytail and stuck to her cheek. Shawn brushed it away, then lowered her to the ground. “Where’s your stuff?” He asked.

“It’s in her classroom." The nurse answered. "She can wait here, if you’d like to go get it.”

Shawn nodded. “I’ll be right back.” He told Cassie, but she grabbed his hand.

“Let me come with you.” She whined.

“That makes more sense.” He told the nurse. “Then we can just leave from there.”

“Alright.” She said. “Well, feel better Cassidy.”

She waved, unusually shy, and leaned against Shawn. The pair walked hand in hand down the hallway, to a class of busy kindergartners. At just under six feet tall, Shawn felt like a giant among all the tiny tables, tiny chairs, tiny easels, tiny shelves. Cassie’s teacher, a sweet, frizzy-haired, young woman, helped her collect her things from her tiny cubby. She smiled at Shawn, the exact kind of smile he hated—it was full of pity and concern. Cassie zipped up her worn purple sweatshirt and took Shawn’s hand again.

The teacher waved them out, and they went back outside where Shawn’s bike was leaning up against a tree near the main entrance.

“Okay Cass,” he said. “Do you want to ride on the back or walk beside?”

“Ride.” She answered. Her voice sounded a little scratchy.

“Your throat hurt?” He asked, and she nodded. “We’ll be home soon.” She sat down on the wire rack above the back tire and held onto the seat. “Hold on tight.” He warned her, and she nodded. They’d done this before. Keeping one hand on the bike, Shawn put the kickstand up, mounted and took off slowly and awkwardly. They rode on the sidewalk.

Shawn pedaled along until they reached the first of three intersections. He put his feet on the ground and waited for the light to change as the cars rushed past them. His sweatshirt was still in his locker and his arms were freezing. He turned around. “Doing okay, kiddo?” he said.

“Yeah.” She answered faintly. Her legs dangled on either side of the back wheel and her hands gripped tightly to the sides of the wire rack, her tiny fingers barely above the wheel.

“Okay, keep holding on. We’ll be home soon. Do you want to get down and walk?”

She shook her head. “I just want to go home.”

“I know.” He put his foot back on the pedal again. A small pack of three or four pedestrians came up behind him—Shawn knew the looks they were getting. “We’re going.” He stood back up on the pedals and rode through the intersection. He knew the ride by himself from the high school was about five minutes. They were just a hair under a mile from the schools…Anymore than a mile and they’d be able to ride the bus.

Not that that would be able to help us today. Shawn thought, and ducked his face from the brisk wind. They got a green light through the second intersection. At least scarlet trees couldn’t stare at them. The third intersection was clear too. Shawn’s shoulders were starting to ache from leaning forwards with his backpack on and pulling the extra fifty-something pounds on the back. “You know where we are now, right?” he said as he turned a corner. “We’re on our street.”

“Good.” Cassie said. They rode past the yellow trees, past the postage-stamp sized yards, and the empty gravel driveways. Then they were home. Shawn put the kickstand down and Cassie hopped off.

She smiled a fraction of her typical grin. “My arms feel like Jello from all that holding on.” She told Shawn.

He smiled. “You did a great job holding on. Now let’s get you inside.”

.

.

Yet another episode of Blue’s Clues blared from the living room where Cassie laid on the couch. Almost three days had gone by and she still hadn’t perked up. Her fever had dropped, but her throat remained sore and her energy low. Shawn entered the kitchen and opened the freezer. “What flavor you want?” He called out.

“Grape.” She called back.

“You mean the grossest flavor?” He teased, but she must not have heard him. Shawn grabbed her popsicle and set it on the counter. He debated getting one for himself, but his mom had only bought the kind Cassie liked. I’d rather have a sore throat all night then eat a grape popsicle. He thought childishly.

The front door opened and shut. His mom was home from working the dinner shift. Since it was Saturday and Shawn could be home, Amanda had worked a double shift to make up for staying home with Cassie on Friday. She’d waitressed the dinner hour Friday night too, so Shawn had spent the last day and a half of their waking hours with his sister, and Amanda had spent them at work. Shawn reached up in the cabinet for a glass and slammed it on the counter.

“How are you feeling, baby?” He heard his mother ask Cassie. Shawn shuffled around in the cabinets, looking for some Motrin to ward off the pain pressing against his forehead.

“I have no time to be sick.” He muttered to himself. He located the bottle and spilled two pills into his hand. He picked up his glass and turned to the sink to fill it with water. Amanda walked in right as he was popping the pills into his mouth.

“What the hell are you doing?” She cried. “What the hell is that?”

Shawn took a long drink of water. “I have a headache.” He said calmly. He noticed the popsicle on the counter. “Oh, I forgot to take this to Cass.”

“What the hell are you taking pills for?” She demanded.

Shawn took a step backwards. “I have a headache. I said that already. Get out of my face, Mom. It’s just Motrin.”

“Oh no.” Amanda said. “No, it’s not just anything! I don’t want you getting addicted to any of that shit like your dad was!”

Shawn felt every muscle go rigid under his skin. “Dad wasn’t an addict.” He shook his head. “He wasn’t!”

Amanda laughed; barking, humorless laughter. She took a step closer to Shawn. He could smell the beer on her breath. He took another step backwards, the handle of the dishwasher pressing into the small of his back.

“That’s funny, baby.” His mom said. “That’s real funny. Your dad wasn’t an addict. Chris wasn’t an addict--like hell!”

Shawn shook his head. His top lip curled up in anger. “Mom.” He said. “You’re drunk. Cassie and I are sick. I think it’s best for everyone if we all just go to bed.” His voice was tight and fierce, but quiet enough he hoped his sister couldn’t hear him.

“Chris sure was an addict.” Amanda loudly babbled on. “Damn went and got himself addicted to pain pills, just like you’re popping.”

“Stop it, Mom.” Shawn snapped. “Quit lying.”

“You are a…child…Shawn McKenzie.” She said. She tried to point at him, but her hand was shaking and her arm swayed in the air. “You cannot tell me what to do.”

“I’m not a child!” He shouted back. “Who’s been stuck here taking care of Cassie for two days? I hauled her home on my bike in 40 degree weather, and I missed school because you weren’t here.”

“I have to work for a living!” Amanda threw her arms up. Shawn put his out in front of him. “Does no one appreciate that?”

“Were you really at work?” Shawn demanded. “Or did you just go out drinking?”

“I was at work! I have to work!”

“Didn’t you tell me your shift ends at eight? It’s after ten now, Mom. Where do you go?”

“I was working!” She cried. “I work for a living, dammit!”

Shawn crossed his arms over his chest. “I know you do, Mom.” Steve began to talk louder as Cassie turned up the volume to drown them out. Shawn took a deep breath and plastered on a fake smile. Every muscle in his torso trembled under his tee-shirt, but he carefully kept his voice level. “I’m sorry, Mom.” He said. “Why don’t you just go to bed? And Cassie and I will go to bed soon, okay?”

“We are not done here, Shawn Ma-Matthew…We’re not. We are not done.” But she turned around and started to leave the kitchen, stumbling down the hallway to her room.

“Okay.” He said. “Good night, Mom.”

Shawn stood there a few moments, holding his breath until he heard Amanda’s door shut. He gripped the edge of the counter, cool granite between his fingers. He shut his eyes and took a few shaky breaths to steady himself. So much for getting rid of that headache, he thought. His hand landed on the grape popsicle, already forming a small puddle on the counter. He threw it back in the freezer and grabbed a new one.

“Hey Cass.” He said brightly as he entered the living room. “What’d I miss? Did they find the last clue?”

Cassie looked up at Shawn, her dark eyes wide and shiny. “Why is Mommy mad at us?” She asked. She wasn’t crying, but she sounded like she had been or was about to.

Shawn sat down next to her.“She isn’t mad.” He said quickly. “She’s just…tired. You know, because she’s been working so much.”

Cassie nodded. She accepted this lie. “Can I have my popsicle?”

“Of course you can.” He opened the wrapper and handed it to her. “Wanna watch a movie or something?”

She stuck the popsicle in her mouth and handed him the remote. They settled on Shrek, a silly movie Cassie loved and Shawn could tolerate. He pulled some of her blanket onto his own legs. Cassie sucked on bites of popsicle and managed to finish it all before falling asleep with the stick in her hand and sticky purple juice rimming her mouth.

Shawn watched the ogre’s stupidity for a few more minutes by himself before realizing Cassie was out like a light. He gently slid her feet out of his lap and plucked the stick from her hand. Using a tissue from the box on the table, he wiped the melted popsicle from her face. He stood up and went back towards the kitchen to throw it away.

The kitchen light was still on, illuminating the stacks of dirty dishes in the sink and the bottle of ibuprofen on the counter, still open. Shawn filled his water glass back up and set it down. He filled a second glass of water and spilled three more of those damn Motrin into his hand. He knew from the weight of the beer smell on her breath that his mom would have a wicked hangover in the morning. Shawn set up the coffee maker so both he and his mother could function through the next day; ripping the lid off of the can of cheap grounds, slamming the coffee pot under the basket, punching the timer buttons with his fingers.

He picked up his glass and drank almost half of it in two large gulps, allowing the cool water to soothe both his throat and his temper, if only for a moment. He scooped up the pills and the other glass. As an afterthought, he grabbed a banana, too, because Amanda was convinced fruit cured hangovers.

To the left of the kitchen, the end of Shrek was on, an animated donkey singing ”I’m a Believer” with a bunch of fairy tale characters. The light of the TV flickered over Cassie’s face as she rested, oblivious to it all. To the right, the hallway to the bedrooms was dark. Shawn passed his room, the laundry room, Cassie’s room, the bathroom, his feet probing the carpet for obstacles like stray laundry or toys. His mom’s room was at the end of the hall. He carefully pushed the door open. In the dim light, he could see her sprawled out on the bed, snoring. He put the banana and the water and the pills down on the crowded bedside table, in front of her clock where he knew she’d see them. Then he tiptoed out around strewn clothes and gently shut the door behind him.