Young Writers Society

I. Press to Open. Amen. Goodnight and Thank you.

Prologue

“Mama, can we please get fruit-cups? I want fruit cups.”

“Not, today, Eugene.”

“But, why?”

“Mama needs to buy dinner. I don’t have enough money.”

Ms. Richards pushed the shopping cart forward through the isle and Eugene discouraged, puts the fruit-cups back onto the display stand.

“Now, what do I need to get?” Ms. Richards asks her self.

It’s a late afternoon at the Marty’s General Store and there’s no one a cash register and the only employee is in the boardroom watching ‘ Jerry Springer’. There are no other costumers at the store and Ms. Richards is taking advantage of the sale. “A bottle of milk, a carton of eggs, sugar, and bacon…”

She pushes the cart on and heads towards the frozen food section.

“Come on, Eugene.”

There’s no response. No shuffle of size four Nike’s against the floor. No begging for his favorite snack, Cheez-it’s on the passing shelf.

“Eugene?” Mrs. Richards turns around.

She faces a blank checkered linoleum floor, he son no where to be seen.

“Eug…”

She pushes the cart aside and delves through the isles. “Eugene!”

Her heart begins to beat…hard. Everything she knows, everything she knows suddenly become nothing.

She becomes hysterical races to the boardroom and bang on the locked door.

The employee gets up and opens the door.

“Paper or plastic—.”

“My son is missing.”

“I’m sure he’s around—.”

“I searched everywhere in your damn store, I can’t find him.”

“What’s you’re son’s name?”

“E-Eugene,”

The employee walks over to the cash register and turns on the intercom.

Ms. Richards places her head in her palm.

“Eugene!” The man called out into the vast empty store.

His voice echoes back to him. There was no reply.

“Eugene!”

Chapter One

Alynn Marie Grey and her brothers

Alynn is one of five kids in her family.

She is the only girl.

There’s Francis, Joseph, Peter, and then little Ethan. She’s the middle child.

And then there are her parents, her mom Rita Sanford Grey and her father Dr. Dorian Grey.

Altogether they lived in a quaint house on a hill in Montgomery, Alabama.

Alynn is fifteen and has a summer job at a picture frame shop in the middle of town.

The story starts off in the morning at around 8 o’clock and the house is already rumbling with noise.

“Give me the remote,” Peter says grinding his teeth. “Or I tell Mom.”

“No, I had it first. Mom!” Ethan wrestles for the remote and he and Peter come crashing to the floor.

The phone starts ringing.

Mrs. Grey picks it up and holds her hand over the receiver.

“Will you two hush up in there? I’m on the phone.”

The two boys quiet down but are still fighting over the remote.

Mrs. Grey starts multitasking-as mothers do best.

She’s prepping a chicken for that evening, for her husband’s promotion dinner.

And everything has to be just perfect.

“Francis, I need one pound of butter, two bags of cake mix and a pint of cream. I’m thinking of making a cake.”

Mrs. Grey picks up ladle and starts pouring broth over her chicken.

“I know, I already got a pie. But I want to make a cake. It’s for your Daddy’s dinner and I want everything to be faultless.”

The oatmeal that’s cooking on the stove starts to burn.

“Oh, Francis get those from Marty’s and get over here,” She turns down the heat under the pot. “I don’t care how far it is, they’re the only one with the best kind. Okay? Bye, honey!” She hangs up the phone.

In the living room, Ethan and Peter have started up their fussing again.

“I don’t want to watch that,” Ethan says pushing his brother.

“I don’t care.” Peter says his eyes fixed on the T.V

Mrs. Grey sighs.

“Ethan, Peter if you don’t quiet down, there will be no T.V for a week.”

“But, Mom…”

“No. Ethan, I don’t want to hear it,” Mrs. Grey says as she dishes out bowls of oatmeal. “Where’s your sister?”

“What sister?” Peter counters.

“The only sister you have.” Mrs. Grey says looking out into the living room from the kitchen.

“Alynn!” Peter and Mrs. Grey call out in unison.

Upstairs, Alynn Grey is just waking up.

After hearing her name called she promptly gets out of bed.

“What?” Alynn calls back, combing her fingers through her coarse curly hair.

“Don’t what me, get down here and help me.” Mrs. Grey says.

“Alright,” Alynn says putting on a pair of shorts and a tank top.

She brushes her teeth and goes down stairs.

Alynn finds her mother struggling with the toaster oven and her brothers at the kitchen table eating.

“I’m here, to the rescue.” Alynn says throwing up her arms.

“You ain’t a super hero.” Peter said before he slurped down his remaining oatmeal.

“I was kidding.” Alynn glared at him.

“Hey, don’t you two start. Alynn fix this for me?” Mrs. Gray says beckoning Alynn.

“It’s not broken.” Alynn said.

“I don’t know how to use it.” Mrs. Grey says pressing random buttons on the side console.

“You’ll break it like that.” Alynn tells her mother.

Alynn presses the button for ‘On’ and ‘Toast’.

“That’s how you do it.”

“Yeah, ‘cause I’m stupid. Right?”

“No.”

“Anyway, have some oatmeal.” Mrs. Grey picks up a big spoon cover in oatmeal.

“No, thank you.”

“You have to eat. You’re so skinny.” Mrs. Grey says gently poking her daughter’s ribs.

“I’ll have some toast.” Alynn nods to the toaster oven.

“That’s for Joseph; he left for early football practice.” Mrs. Grey said pouring some oatmeal into a purple bowl.

Alynn looks out the kitchen window.

Mr. Turner from across the street is walking his Beagle and Mrs. Gentry is watering her hydrangeas outside of her small Victorian. There’s rain clouds in the sky and a flock of seagulls fly overhead from the ocean.

“I’m finished, Mom.”

“Good boy, Ethan. You’re gonna be a strong boy. You’re not gonna be skeleton-like, like your sister.”

Alynn sighed and sat down at the table and added ten sugar cubes to the grayish-brown mush in her bowl.

Francis arrived home with the groceries his mother asked him to get.

“Oh, good. You used the reusable bags this time,” Mrs. Grey said as she took the bags from him.

“How’s the weather?” Mrs. Grey asked as she placed the contents on the counter.

The sprinklers went off on the front lawn leaving a rainbow reaction. The sun evaporated the water, heated car roofs, and gave tans at the beach.

“It’s fine, it’s almost 98 degrees.”

“Whew, that’s hot.”

Alynn place her bowl in the sink.

“Wash it.” Mrs. Grey says.

Alynn groans.

“Hey you can’t just leave dirty bowls lying around. While you’re at it, wash all of them.”

Alynn sulked as she turned the faucet.

She rinsed off the bowls and the water ran to the bottom of the sink into a beige puddle.

“Don’t use too much detergent,” Mrs. Grey says. “I just bought that bottle yesterday.

“Alright,” Francis calls from the hall, carrying a laundry basket filled with his shirts and Joseph’s football gear.

The front door jiggles open and Mr. Grey appears carrying a couple champagne bottles, the paper, and a pile of mail; mostly bills.

“Hey, everybody! How’s my beautiful family?” He enters the kitchen and gives his wife a peck on the cheek and sets down the champagne bottles on the table.

Peter and Ethan don’t look away from the television, their brains immersed in cartoons.

“I got Gosset and Henriot. Does that sound good?” Mr. Grey says to his wife. Not only was he the best doctor in town but, he was also a very good champagne connoisseur.

“Yes, I don’t even know what that means.” Mrs. Grey says stirring a pot of thick brown matter.

“It means good,” Mr. Grey holds up Henriot. “And even better.” He holds up Gosset.

“All right, as long as it doesn’t interfere with the taste of my food.” Mrs. Grey waves a spoon at him.

“Nothing could interfere with it. It’s so good,” Mr. Gray says reaching around his wife to snag a taste of the pot’s contents.

“Hey, not until later.” Mrs. Gray slaps away his hand.

Mr. Gray chuckles and walks into the living room.

Alynn finishes up the dishes and dries her hands on her shorts.

Mrs. Grey searches through the groceries and finds her son has forgotten to buy the half pound of butter she’d asked for.

“Oh, Francis…” Mrs. Grey sucks her teeth.

“Yeah,” Francis walks into the kitchen.

“You forgot the butter.”

Francis places his hand on his forehead. "Oh I'll get it."

“Okay.”

Mrs. Grey looks at the clock on the wall that reads 12:15.

“Pick up Joseph, too.”

“Alright, Ma”

Francis saunters out the front door to his Volkswagen Transporter.

It’s a little out dated and he plans to get a newer car soon.

He gets in.

A woman with blonde curls come jogging past their driveway.

Francis doesn’t see and slowly backs out.

He hears a clank and stops the car and looks into the rear view mirror.

“Oh, my leg,” The woman cries.

Francis curses and gets out of the car.

“Are you okay, Miss?” Francis kneels down before her as she writhes in pain.

“Were-you trying to run me over?”

“No, Ma’am I—.”

“Well you did.”

“I’m truly sorry,” Francis gets out his cell phone. “Would you like me to call someone?” Francis gets out his cell phone.

“I’m in pain. I think I need immediate attention,” The woman stops. “What about that physician daddy of yours?”

“I don’t think he could help, he’s an oncologist—.”

“Ooooh. My leg!”

“Okay, I’ll get him.”

Francis runs up the stairs to his house.

His father is sitting on the couch reading a magazine.

“Dad…um… I hit this lady with the van… and now she on the ground in our driveway… in pain.”

“You, what?” Mr. Grey says throwing down the magazine.

“You, what?” Mrs. Grey says poking her head out from the kitchen.

“Just come. I think she needs help.”

Alynn followed her parents as they walked down the path to the driveway.

The woman was now sitting up and moaning.

“Doctor, you’ve arrived.”

“Yes, hi…um… are you okay?”

“No, your son run me over with your beast of a car.”

“Let me take a look at it.”

“By all means, please do.”

The woman pulled up her pant leg and exposing her pasty white limb.

A purple and blue knob inhabited the place where the knee cap used to be.

“Ooh, it hurts so badly.”

“Ma’am, what’s your name?” Mr. Grey asks.

“Oh, don’t call me Ma’am. I’m much too young to be called Ma’am,” She bats her eyes. “Now she,” The woman points to Mrs. Grey. “Now, she. She’s a Ma’am,” She points to herself. “Now me, I’m Janine Morton.”

“Yes, Mrs. Morton…please, comes inside.”

“Why, thank you. You are ever so kind.”

Mr. Grey and Francis help her inside.

Mrs. Grey stands in the driveway, paused. “Am I actually that old?” She says looking at her worked hands.

“No, Ma. You’re not.” Alynn says walking up the porch steps.

“Why, that was mighty rude of her,” Mrs. Grey crossed her arms. “She doesn’t even look a day younger than me.”

Inside, Ms. Morton was on the sofa, almost wailing in pain. The boys, Ethan and Peter, were now watching her from the steps, and had turned off the T.V.

“It hurts so badly.” Ms. Morton seized her leg.

“Alright, I got some ice.” Mr. Grey said as he walked in from the kitchen with a bag of ice.

Mrs. Grey saw this and protested.

“That ice is for the reception tonight,” Mrs. Grey snapped, still sore from what Ms. Morton said earlier. “We need that for the shrimp cocktails and drinks.

“Well, now, we need it for this woman’s leg.” Mr. Grey said as he placed the ice bag onto her knee.

“Oh, please. Don’t call me that. Call me Janine.”

Mrs. Grey watched over his shoulder not saying a word. Francis stood near the stairs, with his arms folded.

He worried whether or not she was going to sue them.

“You nearly killed her.” Ethan said smiling maliciously.

“You shoulda watched where yous was going.” Peter added.

Francis glared at them.

“That enough outta you two, go upstairs and get dressed.” Mrs. Grey ordered.

The drone of the air-conditioning rattled for a moment and shut off.

“Oh no, the air conditionin’ died.” Alynn looked up at the vents.

“Great, it’s like one hundred degrees out. And the air went out.” Francis says switching the on and off control for the A/C.

“We’re all gonna burn up.” Mr. Grey said.

The hot Alabama air began to seep under the door and the windows; through the faucets and drains; up through the floor boards and the kitchen’s linoleum.

“My hair’s gonna crimp up. Getting you hair done ain’t cheap you know.” Ms. Morton said fixing her hair.

“Well, we’re gonna have to get out the fans.” Mrs. Grey said as she put her hands on her hips.