Young Writers Society

If you haven't read chapter one, you'll definitely need to go back and so do; you won't have any idea what's going on otherwise. Enjoy the read, and please be as harsh as possible.

Chapter Two

There was a knock at our front door the following day, around three. Without looking out the window, I knew who it was. Jensen Thorn had been coming to see me every day since school had closed. It wasn’t his persistence I found annoying, really—just him.

“I can’t do anything today,” I said as I opened the door. He jumped when my voice sliced through the air, whipping around to face me.

Jensen was a jumpy kid, had been since we were toddlers in preschool. He hadn’t changed since those preschool days, either. Every time I saw him, he was wearing jeans and a long-sleeved, button-up shirt. His short hair was blond and spiked, and he had a small, freckled nose.

“Hi, Wren,” he greeted, pushing his sliver-rimmed glasses up that small nose. He always did that, and I hardly noticed the habit anymore. “You weren’t answering the phone, so I thought I’d just…” he trailed off, looking awkward on the front step. He waited, hoping for an invitation inside. Like he did every other day.

Too much had happened, and all my patience had drained out of me sometime during the long night. Sleep had evaded me completely. I kept picturing my brother falling out of a plane, being eaten by a tiger, trapped in a room and starved to death.

“Listen, I’m busy today, all right?” I snapped. I wasn’t, but I’d never encouraged Jensen, and today was no exception.

His face fell, and he nodded. “Oh, okay. Sure. No problem. I get it.”

“Good.” I went to close the door, but he suddenly straightened and stuck his foot in the small space.

“H-hey, I forgot,” he mumbled.

I sighed. “What did you forget?”

He swallowed visibly. “Goody Meyers is moving. Remember her?” At my impatient nod he went on, “Well, she’s having a party, a sort of going-away thing, I guess. She wanted me t-to give you this.” He took a piece of paper out of his back pocket and held it out to me.

I snatched it away quickly, wanting to get back inside. Mom was waking up soon, and I’d been planning on bringing her breakfast in bed. She’d always cheered up a little when I’d done it in the past. “Thanks.”

I tried to close the door again, but Jensen didn’t move his foot. He was looking down again, pushing his glasses up some more.

“What else, Jensen?” I jerked the door open to glare at him fully now.

He kept swallowing, fiddling with the cuffs of his shirt. “Well, uh, that is, I…”

I sighed a second time, suddenly hating myself. He hadn’t done anything to me, really, and I had no right to treat him like this. “It’s okay, Jensen, just spit it out.”

The boy actually looked me in the eye. “I was wondering if you would… if you would be my date to Goody’s party?”

It wasn’t the first time Jensen had asked me out. After all, he’d had a crush on me since that first day we met in the preschool. I’d been wearing pink overalls, him his long-sleeved shirt and jeans. They’d just been a smaller size, was all.

I couldn’t look at him any other way. He was sort of an annoying shadow I’d always put up with. It wasn’t hard to discourage him—Jensen was persistent, sure, but he wasn’t obnoxious.

I took a breath. “Look, I—”

“Oh, hey, Jensen.” Mattie walked up behind me, directing a friendly grin at the boy still standing on our doorstep. “What’s going on?”

Jensen coughed out a greeting. “We were just talking about a party,” I told my brother, glaring at him. Leave so I can take care of this, I mentally told him. But either Mattie wasn’t catching my brain waves or he was ignoring them.

“A party, huh? And Jensen, you’re, what, asking Wren to go with you?”

Jensen blushed to the roots of his hair. I made a sound in my throat, elbowing Mattie hard. He moved out of my elbowing range. “Well, Jensen?”

“I-I was, in fact, asking… not that I would, er, force anyone, that is to say—”

“You should go, Wrenny,” Mattie said to me, grinning. If looks could kill, he would definitely be dead. “When is it?” He was talking to Jensen again.

He stammered out an answer. Friday at seven.

With a sinking heart, I could already see where Mattie was trying to go with this. I jumped in hurriedly before he could do anymore damage. “It’s a nice idea, Jensen, but I’m actually—”

“—completely available. Feel free to swing by and pick her up around seven,” Mattie interjected smoothly. I hissed as I exhaled.

Jensen’s eyes had widened. He looked from me to Mattie quickly, a sort of sly look coming into those wide eyes. Then, so unexpectedly that I wouldn’t have known him capable of it, Jensen said clear as a bell, “Sounds like a plan.” And before I could utter another word of protest, he turned around and was running down the front steps. He was gone when I blinked again.

I jerked around and shoved Mattie, hissing some more. “You slimeball! What are you doing?”

He grinned down at me, unrepentant. “You need to go out and have a good time, Wrenny. You’ve been cooped up around here for too long.”

I slammed the door shut behind us, lowering my voice so I wouldn’t wake Mom up. “That’s my decision, isn’t it? I mean, God, Mattie, Jensen Thorn?”

“What’s wrong with Jensen Thorn?” he asked innocently.

I pushed past him, swearing under my breath. “You always have to stick your oar in, don’t you? Couldn’t you have done that when Willis Hanson stopped by? Or Phil Hendrick?”

Mattie followed me into the kitchen. “I don’t know what you ever saw in those two assholes. At least I know Jensen won’t touch you. You’re safe enough with him.”

“Is that what this is all about?” I spun around to poke him in the chest. “You just trying to get me with a guy who’s about as exciting as Calculus? Someone you know wouldn’t have the guts to actually give me a good time?”

“I don’t like your definition of a good time,” Mattie growled. “I can’t always be around to watch over you, Wren, and I sure as hell am not going to follow you around to these parties you go to.”

“I never asked you to!” I turned away from him to yank a drawer open. I pulled out a pan and set it on the stove, turning it to medium heat. “I don’t need you to protect me all the time!”

“’Course not. And you especially didn’t need me that night at Blue’s, did you?”

I stiffened. It hurt, it really did, that he’d brought that night up. He knew I didn’t like to talk about it. I thought about those boys in that alley. Hey, little girl. You look cold. Want us to warm you up? Hands everywhere. Air on my bare skin. Laughter, smell of alcohol on his breath.

Suddenly Mattie groaned. “Aw, I’m sorry.”

I felt his arms go around me. He held me against his chest, trying to make me loosen up, to make me forget. “Don’t hate me,” he whispered against the back of my neck.

The feel of his hard arms reminded me of the rest of that night. My brother, my friend and protector, bursting out the door and seeing me trapped in that other boy’s arms. Get your hands off her. Sounds of blows. Grunts of pain. Pounding footsteps, retreating. Then those arms, those arms I knew so well, arms that would never hurt me, gathering me up, holding me close. Wrenny? His hand smoothing my hair back. When I didn’t respond, he began to rock, sliding down the wall until he was sitting on the hard, wet ground. When you look up and see the stars, just know that I’m not very far. It’s a short journey from this land of above… just know that it’s you I love.

“I could never hate you, Mattie,” I murmured, pressing tighter against him. It had always been just the two of us, as kids and now grown, against the world.

“We all have a choice, Wren. And the choices we make will affect the rest of our lives,” Mattie said in my hair. “I just don’t want you to forget what it’s like to be a kid. You’re still so young. But if you really don’t want to go to this party, I’m not going to make you go.”

I said nothing; only pressed closer.

We stood there for a moment, just holding each other. Finally, Mattie cleared his throat and untangled himself from me. There were two high spots of color on his face, and he stepped away. “So, you… you, uh, want some help with this?”

I frowned, wondering at his sudden awkwardness. I mentally shrugged, chalking it up to some boy thing I didn’t understand. “Okay,” I agreed. “The eggs are on the bottom shelf.” I motioned at the fridge.

With that, everything was back to normal. We still had to talk about Friday night and Jensen Thorn, but I wasn’t going to bring it up for a while. For once, I wanted to have a normal day, without any pain or reminders of what had been.

* * *

The experiments always began on the second Monday of each month, and the duration varied. One day, two weeks, two months. You just never knew.

I breathed easier when the month’s experiment—a mother’s small child was taken from her and she was given twenty-four hours to find him in the entire city of Los Angeles, with small clues along the way, or she would never see him again—began and ended without Mattie being involved. That didn’t mean he was safe, of course, but his chances of being chosen were less with each day that passed and more names were dropped into the boxes.

Friday neared with horrible swiftness, as well. To my consternation, Mom was too deep into her current rut to say anything against my going, and my brother was oddly insistent that I didn’t call Jensen to cancel. So I reluctantly phoned Goody to let her know we were coming, and Mattie let up, satisfied.

That feeling was growing in me again. I sensed it, black and smothering, rising, rising. I hadn’t had it since that night at Blue’s, but here it was, building once more. It had been around since I was a small child. Restlessness. Maybe it was the depression, maybe it was the terror of that night I was attacked, but I’d thought it was gone for good when it didn’t come up again. It didn’t bode well.

“What are you so worried about?” Mattie smiled at me indulgently when I voiced my concerns to him. “What’ll you do? Explode? It’s a going-away party, Wren. Her parents will be there. Relax. They won’t pull out the six-packs as long as the adults are around.”

“How do you know her parents are going to be there?” I asked suspiciously.

He shook his head, grabbing his car keys from the kitchen counter. “I looked at the invitation and called Goody. Did you really think I was going to let you go anywhere without checking up on it?”

“You’re not my father,” I called after him, resenting the way he thought he had so much control over me. But he does, I realized with a start. Mattie was already gone, off to a date with Beth. Hopefully she stepped in a puddle and choked on her gum. Then maybe he would dump her.

The wheel was turning. Time was passing. Friday, the day that would change my life forever—I just didn’t know it—pounced on me. I woke up that morning and just lay in bed for a minute, hugging my pillow close. I hummed my mom’s lullaby, thinking of her. Today she’d said she was going to go job-hunting again, and maybe stop by and visit some friends. Mattie was off doing the same. I was on my own.

Then I remembered the day and groaned. Friday. I hate you. I could imagine Jensen pulling up in his mother’s dented Ford, tugging at the collar of his button-up shirt. He would try to make conversation, commenting on the economy and the outrageous gas prices… if he even had the guts to talk at all.

I dragged my butt out of bed and showered. I was in a nostalgic mood today, thinking of the good times. I should have been going to school right now, should have been parking in the lot and laughing at Willis’s antics as he tried to do a three-sixty with his pickup. I should have been walking to first hour with a group of my friends, gossiping about who was pregnant and who crashed what party. Ah, the good old days.

Jeez, I was only seventeen. This was getting depressing.

Snorting to myself—depressing—I stood in front of my closet, wrapped in a towel. What did one wear to a pity date? I didn’t want to dazzle the poor boy, no, of course not. But I didn’t exactly want to go scrub; that just wasn’t me. So… average? What I wore every other day? Nah, too boring. Besides, I hardly ever went to parties anymore. I wanted to take the chance to dress up a little.

So… half and half? A little casual, a little classy. Perfect.

Smiling to myself, I selected some jeans that fit my curves just right and a white blouse with a red ribbon holding the entire front together. It was kind of sexy, and it made my skin look tanner.

I surveyed my reflection in the mirror, and nodded in approval. I was actually getting excited, despite the date coming to pick me up soon. Maybe Mattie was right. Maybe tonight would be fun.

Shaking my wet hair and beginning to towel-dry it, I kept looking at the mirror. I looked at my long legs, my turned-up nose and my dark hair. What I saw didn’t dissatisfy me, but I frowned. Where was my family? I didn’t see any of them in my features, or even in my figure. No Mom, no Dad, no Mattie. My parents were both blond and freckled; Mom was stocky. Dad and Mattie were taller than me, yes, but they still had the light coloring. I was the pale-skinned, skinny dark one. Why was I so different? What made me stick out like a sore thumb?

“Wren?”

I jumped slightly, and moved out to the hall. I didn’t say anything, but I could hear Mom sniffling. She called my name again, and again I didn’t answer. I don’t know why. But I just couldn’t bring myself to go back into her dark room, feel the anguish in the air, have to see Mom’s anguish even as she dried her tears and tried to hide it. She would smile up at me, trying to be strong. For me. For Mattie.

“Wren?”

Cringing, I took a step back in my room. Mom must have decided that I wasn’t in the house, because she fell silent again. I stood there for a few more minutes, staring at her door and not thinking about anything.

Then, so softly I barely heard it, Mom sobbed out a name: “Daniel.” She sniffed and was quiet again.

I bit my lip. Dad, I thought. How could you leave her like this? But what my heart was screaming, what I tried to deny the hardest, was another question: How could you leave me like this? Was I really that selfish? Almost against my will, I remembered the last time I’d seen him, the last time I’d ever talked to him and looked at his face.

“What are you doing?”

Dad stood in the doorway and grinned at me. I glanced up, smiling back. “What does it look like I’m doing? We need to raise money so we can keep the school open. The girls and I have put together a fundraiser.”

“A carwash?” Dad lifted an eyebrow. “You really think that’s what people need in times like this?”

I stuck my tongue out at him, momentarily distracted from the flyers I was making. “People still want their cars nice and clean, right? And what’s better than a bunch of girls in bikinis hosing it down for an amazing price of two dollars?”

“Two dollars?” Dad laughed. “That’s robbery! No one’s going to pay it, sweetie.”

I looked back down at the flyers, drawing a sun on one corner of a paper. “See, Dad, that’s where you’ve gone wrong. You have to have a little faith.”

Dad got quiet. He hovered in the doorway of the kitchen. When I looked up, frowning, I saw that he was smiling still, but the curve of his lips had turned sad.

“You’re right, honey,” he said softly. “You’re absolutely right.”

I didn’t like how serious he’d gotten. I rolled my eyes, sighing dramatically. “Haven’t you figured it out yet? I’m always right.”

Dad didn’t reply. And when I glanced up at the doorway again, he was gone.

I went back into my room and shut the door. For the remainder of the time I spent getting ready, I pretended like I couldn’t hear Mom in her room, crying. Always crying.