Young Writers Society

Chapter 1

One moment everything was calm, the next it happened.

I glaced at the clock, just thirty-seven minutes to go. I needed to talk to Jake. Whatever the teacher said about Catcher in The Rye went in one ear and out the other.

" A major theme in this book is Holden growing into adolessont. I want you to write a few paragraphs about what it was like for you growing up. What were your challanges?"

Then: " Mr. Spencer, um, there is, um, a dog righ behind you," I whispered. I lept on my desk, as I did I could hear a few kids laughing lighly, others just stared.

The Germen Shepered just stood their watching me.

Become me, you are me. Bad dog, bad cat. Be me, bones, blood, kill. Bad girl, bad.

I long to be the German Shepered. I don't feel normal in my skin. I feel weird.

I failed my arms and shouted. The 'hallucination' didn't move, it just sat.

" The rest of us don't see what your seeing, Scarlett. Knock it off," one of the studens, Jason said. "If this is for attention it's not funny."

The dog just stayed sat, as if it was given an order.

Mr. Spencer was saying soming, saying my name, someone else said somthing but I coundn't focus. My focus has been weaving in and out all day.

I jumped off the desk and haphazardly gathered my things and ran from the room.

Scampering to the bathroom I dumped my things on the floor and slamed the stall shut. I put my face in my hands and just shook.

I've been seeing this dog for a few months and have been hearing voices and other symptoms as well.

For the next twinty minutes I just stay in my stall and wished that I just had class just like everyone else.

I'm not telling mom and dad any of this. I went to the doctor today ( I made the appointment for where they were out of town for a week.) I don't know what they'd do if they found out what was going on with me. I'd be put in a psychratric hospital most likly, then what would everyone think? I'd be hated and feared.

I took the bus home instead of walked this time. I didn't go home I went to my friends appartment. It was a few miles from school. Jake lives by himself (I've considered moving in with him.)

I rapped on Jake's door. A pale skined, black haired boy about seventeen opened it.

"Hi, Scarlett!"

" I need to talk to you about somthing," I said sounding a bit urgent."

"Well, then, come in!" He waved me inside and shut the door.

"Jake, listen, I, um, went to the doctor. As you know I have been hullcinating a German Shepherd and have been hearing voices and my body somtime hurts or aches. I feel 'weird' like i'm not human, I have a hard time focusing."

" Yes, I know."

Jake was the only person that i'd trust with this information, or with any information that I wouln't tell anyone else, like a secret or a touchy subjects. We grew more intament as the years went on though Elamentry school, middle school, and high school. We trusted each other, maybe more than simple trust.

And no, I don't love him. Just like him as a friend.

Jake asked," Would you like to eat or drink anything?"

" Mmm, do you have pinnapple juice?"

" No, sorry, are you ok with milk."

"Sure, that's fine," I said casually.

As Jake was pouring me a glass he asked," Tell me about your appointment,"

" Um," I said slowly sounding uncomfortable," Would you still like me if I had a chronic illness?"

"What kind of question is that," Jake spat. " Their is absolutely nothing that you could say that would stop me from being your friend,"

Sudden sadness hit me at the realization of the diginoses. My blood turned to ice.

"The doctor said that I'm schizophrnic."

He didn't even look surprised he just retorted ," You are not schizophrnic. If you were schizophrnic I'd see a lot of behavioral changes in you. I don't see that in you. You'd have a lot of probleams with forming and keeping relationships and with communicating and remembering and...Your not schizophrnic, I mean, schizophrinics don't act normal, the're very diffirent form the rest of us!" Then he sighed, his voice sofing, he put up his hands like a 'stop' motion. "Look, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to sound rude like that--the point is, I don't think that your schizophrnic."

Then he said," Symptoms, tell me your symptoms."

" I just told you them a moment ago."

" Right,"

"The symptoms don't add up to anything that I know...As you kmow I do my medical reserch from medical journals and WebMD...this is very peculiar. This dosn't sound like full-blown schizophrinia."

"What do the voice say?"

" Just random things. And I understand it, too. Today in school I saw the German shepherd again."

"How long has your symptoms been lasting?"

"Seven and a half months."

Jake though for a moment, "How about I take you somewhere where you can get the best medical care."

"Where? In Kansas City?"

"If I tell you I'd have to kill you. Tust me"

Scarlett gave him a serious look, then added joking," How can I trust somone who is about to kill me. He just might be a sociopath."

"Murderer."

"Serial killer! Haha, get it! I kill ceral for breakfest."

"Hang me and burn me at the steak please...Ok, but seriously, meet me here tomarrow after school, ok."

"But where are we going?"

"It's a secret."

************

School passed surprising quickly the next day.

I quickly walked to his house, excited, thoughs of getting better in my head.

"Jake, I'm ready."

"Oh, good, I'm going to put this over your eyes so you don't see anything."

It was a scarf -- not a think one for winter, but a thin fashonable one -- that was navy blue. This is weird, why blindfold me? I'm not going anywhere speical. I decided to play along.

Sense he didn't have a car we took a bus. I didn't know where we were going. I could tell that by the light that was comthing through the fabric that it was aproching late afternoon, but that was it. Soon the light faded and darkness swollen us whole. The air suddenaly became cooler forcing a quick, single, shiver to run through me. I wanted a jacket.

"Are we in a cave?"

We stoped when we were in compleat blackness. I heard the sound of somthing sliding open. Then there was the slight sensation of droping, like I was on an elavator. Was I on an elavator? No dobut.

"Where are we going?" No answer. After about five minutes the falling sesation stoped. The elavator doors opend.

The dank oder of soil and clay and rock greeted me. Darkness still. "Seriously, where are we?... Then it hit me, We're underground arn't we."

We walked in almost compeat darkness (the cave walls faintly glowed) untill I could see--faintly see that their was ligh, hazy light that glowed infront of me in rows like candles. Voices, I heard voices--talking, laughing, growling and barking. Why growling and barking? Like quite a bit of growling and barking like dogs at a dog park. Odd? I also heard the sound of hoofs, like horses hoofs cloping on the ground.

We walked further. Then the blindfold came off. Light, the light was blinding, I squeezed my eyes tight than epened them. I was in a waiting room in a clinic in the waiting room. Looking around me it looked like a typical waiting room--books and people siting in chairs-- but everyone that I saw was pale--sickly pale. We're they all sick?

The walls were an irridessent rainbow-color. It appered like some kind of stone.

Seriously! Jake had to blindfold me for this! So what, I'm underground. What difference does it make?

I saw the men and women that were behind the check-in desk. They were wearing blue -- the nurses, I assume-- and the doctors--red labcoats. I was shocked to see a perch with blue irridessint colored bird sitting ontop with a black canister around its neck like a necklass. The perch was behind the front desk.

"May I--I haven't seen you around. Are you new?"

" I guess so. Wh-"

She went to a stack of three-hole-punched binders that were labed according to the alphabet. I could tell that they were bound in brightly colored leather.

" Your name," the nurse said while looking for a binder.

"Scarlett Tomphson."

I hear her mutter, "hm, last name is funny," as she she's muttering the A-B-C's song as she serches for my name. I was about to say that I--

" I'm sorry, but I can't find your name," Then the women--Lyla Ruffkin (wich I can tell by the embroiderer name on her front)-- starts getting defensive with me! Her voice inflection is colorful.

She answers rudely ," Are you a full-Bood? Half-Blood? Or a Quarter -Blood? "

" I don't know, Full--Blood? I don't know," sounding unsure. What was she talking about?

" Who broght this Full-Blood here," she demaned!

" I did," Jake said, coming forward. " I broght her here."

Her voice droped in anger," Young pup, your Mother-Dog should of tough you better than to be a crimminal! Do you want to go to prison and face a Muzzeling? This girl will just get deported, you know that don't you?"

" No, " Jake answered truthfully. By his facial expressin I could tell that he didn't know what the women was talking about. Or was he just pertending that he didn't know.

" She's my friend i'm trying to help her. I brough her here to see a doctor And you don't even know if she is a Full-Blood."

He was right about that. Ok, honistaly, I didn't know.

" I don't know what the doctors can do for you ." She remarked snarkliy.

I wanted to ask a lot of questions, but now was not the time and place. What kind of a weird place is this? What's a Mother--Dog? What' s a Muzzeling? Wait. WAIT,WAIT!

WAIT!

MY FRIEND JAKE!

....HE'S A DOG! SHE JUST SAID 'MOTHER-DOG' AND 'MUZZLE' HE'S-A-DOG!

Scarlett, WAIT, THIS IS HIGHLY ILLOGICAL. He can't be a dog. Humans can't be dogs. Your going crazy Scarlett, your Schozphrinia is acting up.

I nearly blurted," Are you a dog?" But I didn't, that would possabaly lead to more trouble.

The women who gave me a hard time oped up the canaster around the birds neck and put a paper in it. This is so old we don't use birds to carry messages. People, we live in the twinty-first centry. We have thease things called phones. Learn to use them.

The bird flew off. Soon somone new entered the clinic. The man walked towards us. He appered to be in his mid -twintys

"I am Mr. Dewpaw. What seems to be the probleam?"

And he was a police officer