Young Writers Society

Diana sprinted out of the room as fast as she could, but deep within her heart, she knew there was no way she could outrun a gym teacher. Casey Johnson grabbed her shirt collar as she neared the midst of the hallway, his touch as cold as a block of ice, scalding the mute girl to the bone.

“Easy there, Saturn Girl,” Casey said with a sly chuckle, as he reached for the disposable camera in her hands, yanking it into his grasp with little force needed. “But we do have a little problem when you go into somebody's home without their permission. Just a little tiny one.”

Diana pouted, crossing her arms and shaking her head back and forth. “Guess it doesn't really matter all that much,” Casey added, motioning to the door they ran out of. “Going to have to come up with a way to kill you both, I don't own any guns. Oh, but take your clothes off first. Haven't ever gotten to sleep with two cute kids before. Man, been forever since I've had someone suck my—oh my God!”

His eyes widened and his jaw hit the floor when he saw who barged into the hall.

***

“Hey, Chuck, I’m curious,” I said, seated beside him on the bed in the cramped, boxed guestroom, not a television in sight. “What happened to the TV?”

“The TV in the living room?” Chuck responded, raising his eyebrows, a lost, blank look in his eyes. “Yeah. Grandpa broke it.”

“What’s the matter with Helmut...?”

“Alzheimer’s,” Chuck said. “He has Alzheimer’s.”

“Alzheimer’s…? What’s that?”

Chuck sighed. “It means that he forgets things. Like who his grandson is. And soon, he’ll probably forget who my mom is. Then he'll forget things like how to talk, how to eat...and even how to breathe. Before you ask, no, I don’t have a dad. He was killed in a mass shooting at a grocery store a few years ago…never got to say bye, either.”

“Life does that to you sometimes,” he added, rising from the bed and starting for the door. “I’ve never really understood religion. But maybe whoever is out there wants to make us miserable as possible, so that we look forward to dying.”

***

Dr. Sembagh stormed down the hall, his face reddening with a severe, torpid anger grown within. "Casey, you have got to be kidding me!" He shouted at the top of his lungs. “Kids! God, Casey! God! The greatest thing is, it's not even the murder part that I'm disturbed with...it's...the other thing!”

“What other thing?” Casey asked with a fake laugh, his face reddening, sweat beginning to faucet from every single pore in his shaking body. “I don't know what you're talking about, man!”

I just heard you, you idiot," Dr. Sembagh said, clutching his temples, noticing Bailey standing nervously on the other side of the hall. "When Diana kept bugging Mrs. Barnes and I that you took Bailey out and she didn't trust you, I thought it wasn't anything to worry about, but God, man. God. You two girls, come with me. Mrs. Barnes is waiting in the car. I’m getting Headmaster Barnes on the phone, and you’re going to be fired.”

"Y-you can't do that," Casey pleaded in a weak voice as Bailey wandered forward, grabbing Diana's hand, letting the mute girl guide her through the hall. "Get back here with these kids! I've got Brief Psychotic Disorder! You know what that is, Doctor! It comes and goes!”

Dr. Sembagh shook his head, continuing to lead the two teenagers out of the home. "I don't think so," he said. "I'm handling the hirings from now on. Goodbye forever, Casey Johnson."

***

That night, I heard someone knock on the guestroom door, and sat straight up. “You in there, Nelly?”

It was Helmut; his skin was wrinkly and his body was oily, but a genuine, friendly smile was on his face. “Got a minute? Wanted to talk to you.”

“Y-yeah,” I responded. “I can’t really sleep, anyway, so sure, why not? What did you want to talk about, though?”

He moved over to the bed and sat beside me. “Eh, well, you know, I keep having this weird dream where…you know. I'm talking to you. And you keep saying you're going to take me to the hospital. It kind of scares me. Did you know that I’ve never been in the hospital before?”

“What? You’re lying,” I laughed. “Must be that old man memory…”

“Old man memory? Why I oughta,” Helmut responded with a playful chuckle. “Well, I don’t even remember what my name is, or how to drink water anymore, so…anyway, nope! Make a liar out of me, go ahead – but I kid you not, I’ve never been to the hospital. And I’m a former marine sniper!”

“Former marine sniper? So you like, killed people?”

“Ah, don’t act so excited,” the old man said with regret in his voice. “World War Two. I killed six people. And I still see their faces when I try to sleep. You know that?”

“But you were fighting for the right cause," I reminded him.

“Yeah but—”

“So you should never feel bad about it,” I said. “Think of all the lives you saved of people you worked to free from those concentration camps, all the families you reunited. You did the right thing."

“Oh, that's a good point, that's a really good point. But killing is wrong!” He cried. “I’m wrong! I’m…confused.”

“Don’t be," I said. "I barely know you but…I think you’re a good person. Sometimes we have to do good things for bad reasons, and bad things for good reasons, right?”

Helmut shrugged, rising from the bed. “Well, if you say so, I guess I believe you. Good night, Nelly. Might see you soon.”

***

It was Thanksgiving afternoon, and I could hardly remember a day I had been more bored. Marion had been busy setting up the dinner table all morning, and she insisted that Chuck and I give her no help whatsoever. Meanwhile, Chuck got the duty of taking care of his grandfather, and he insisted that I gave him no help whatsoever.

That left me to do nothing all day long. The only television in the entire household was destroyed by Helmut. Meanwhile, there was nothing to read, either; no magazines or even a newspaper. In reality, I can definitely see why Chuck didn't want to be around this place.

“Alright, alright, time for dinner, everyone!” Marion bellowed, as I hurried into the kitchen quicker than the speed of sound. “Toby, you can eat as much as you’d like.”

“Wait, it’s just us four here?” I asked as I took my seat at the table. “Where’s the rest of the family?”

“Dead,” Chuck said from behind, taking me by surprise yet again. “Dad is dead, and the rest—”

“They’re not dead, they just…don’t like us,” Marion responded with a shrug.

I’ll give Marion Donald credit; the Thanksgiving dinner looked amazing. The table was topped with fresh bread, mashed potatoes, macaroni and cheese, stuffing, stove-top, green beans, biscuits, coleslaw, cranberries, corn and of course, turkey. Luscious, salivating, delicious smelling, turkey. It was a mouthwatering feast fit for a king, all homecooked fresh by a single soul.

“Well, Chuck?” Marion asked as she pulled her chair in towards the table, slightly tilting her head. “Where is your grandfather?”

“Upstairs,” Chuck anxiously said, staring unnervingly at the food spread out on the table as he took his seat. “He’s acting funny. I got him to take a nap.”

“Oh, here he comes,” I pointed out.

Helmut wandered into the kitchen, a lost look in his eyes, the entire left half of his face drooped over. “H-here I am,” he said, slurring his words, stumbling to his seat towards the side of the table.

Marion looked at him and smiled, then at Chuck and snarled. “So, Chuck, how are you liking life at the...Heartbeat Acaaaaademy,” she sarcastically said, grabbing a biscuit and taking a bite off into her mouth.

Chuck paused, looked at me, then at Helmut, and then at his mother. “It’s great, Mom. Really, really great,” he said.

“Great enough to abandon your family?” Marion asked, rolling her eyes.

“Mom—”

“Don’t mom me,” Marion said, rising to her feet, tossing the biscuit to the ground. “You know that I need you here! You and that old man right there? You’re the only family I’ve got!”

“Well then? What do you want me to do?” Chuck shouted, rising to his feet.

“G-guys…” Helmet muttered in a weak voice, his entire body trembling, sweat dripping from his droopy face.

“Drop out!” Marion yelled. “I need you to come home and help me take care of your grandfather! He's got Alzheimer's, for Christ's sake. Do you not want to spend time with him before he dies? At least help me pay the bills! I can hardly do it on my own anymore!”

“I never asked you to live here!” Chuck fired back. “If the rent is too expensive, then just move! That’s it! Move out of here!”

“Oh, you and your big mouth!” Marion belted. “You've changed since I saw you last! I don't like change.”

“You two...n-need...to...s-stop...” Helmut muttered again. “Woo. Feel a little bit dizzy over here...”

“So what if I have changed!” Chuck shouted.

“I should knock you out right now!” Marion shouted back.

“What about the future?" Chuck asked. “If I leave the academy, I won’t get to graduate, and I won’t get to have a better life. Don’t you want that? A better life for me and my kids? Your grandkids?”

“You guys…!” Helmut interrupted.

“What?” Chuck and Marion yelled simultaneously, turning towards the ailing elder.

Helmut shook and shiver, as saliva dripped out of his fumbling lips. “I’ve got a real bad headache,” he said.

His eyes rolled to the back of his brain as mountainous drool dripped from off his chin. With a loud thump, his head hit the dinner table.