The Still

Chapter 5

        When I got home, I was not in the mood for shit.

     Not one bit.

     When I opened my door, my mother was sitting at the kitchen table typing away on her computer. She was in perfect typing position, but she looked so out of place! She was even wearing glasses! Her short hair was brushing her shoulders and her forehead was crinkled as she typed away on the keyboard.

      She looked away from her furious typing and direct her attention towards me. She scrutinized my appearance for a while before I got fed up and put my hand on my hip.

      On a normal day I would be called out, for trying to be all sassy, but mom saw my facial expression and let it go. She chose  a much more subtle approach to confront me.

       "You looked pissed," she said going back to her keyboard "is Ben acting weird still?"

      I threw my hands in the air, "I don't understand why he has to act like that! He knows Erie is out of her mind!"

       "I could answer that question," she said standing up and walking towards me and putting her hands on my shoulders. It was kind of awkward because she pretty much towered over me, but I looked down at the ground and let her continue, "but I'm not going to because this is something you need to fix."

         I looked into mom's eyes and saw that look she was giving me. It was the ever present 'I don't have time for this, and you are so much more mature than to do this, but I love you so...' look. A look I actually got a lot more than I would like to admit.

        I grimaced as I thought about what to do, which was apparently my idiot brothers's que to slam the door open.  Devine stalked in with his clunky combat boots and plopped himself in the chair across from my mother's.

      "Hey idiot little Ritter," he said picking at his gross nails. "What crawled up your butt and died?"

       I growled at him in response, not mentally prepared to deal with him.

        "Devine, be nice", mom said "I have to run out and get some things, but I want my house to be intact when I return."

          She grabbed her purse from the kitchen counter and pulled out her house keys.

         "No fighting outside either," she said rethinking her terms.

         Both of us actually groaned.

         When she closed the door to the house, I slumped against the counter and filled a glass with some tap water.

         Devine's face lost its usual dorky, idiotic humor and zeroed in on me, "did you do as I say?" he asked grimmly.

          I rolled my eyes at him "just because Sam dropped out of the 10% for you doesn't mean I will. Your obsession with being first is really irritating, you know."

         He stood up and walked towards me like the tired giant he was "Lillian, just do it!" he yelled exasperatedly

        "Look Devine, I'm not going to give up something good for no reason. Stop being a jerk and let it go!"

       His eyes narrowed.

       Not good.

       I tried to slip past him quickly, but, despite his size, he quickly grabbed my wrist. Before I knew it, he was fireman carrying me!!

        "Put me down ass hole!" I yelled trying to struggle against him, but its a fireman carry, with a guy with pointy and broad shoulders, how do I fight that?

       "Shutup," he mumbled, walking up the stairs, is he suicidal?  "I'm trying to educate your not-so-skinny ass."

       He carried me into his room and slung me down on the seat of his reading nook window. Of course I tried to pry my hand from his grasp, and of course I failed.

       "Look," he said, grabbing my chin and forcing me to look at a house a little ways down the road, "do you see her?"

        The person he was forcing me to look at was mousy little Jesse Price, a girl who looked way younger than she actually was. She was about a year younger than I was.

       "You two best friends when you were younger, then you started school, understandable." Sam said in a weirdly calm voice.

        Jesse picked at the Stilled flowers in her yard in an adorable fashion.

       "She is in the bottom 10%, if you didn't know. And unless you forgot, they get killed like runts in the litter."

       I covered my mouth with my hand and tried to look at Devine. His grip didn't falter.

      "And if you are in the top 10%, you will be, wether or not you want to, responsible for her death.

        Mrs. Price poked her head out of the door to their house and called out to Jesse. Jesse stood  brushed off her dress, and walked into her house. 

      "As much as you think I hate you, I don't want that guilt on you," he said carefully.

       The Price's screen door slapped shut with a sound like a clap of thunder. 

      I flinched.

      Devine let go and nodded, as if he was pleased with my reactions.

     "You can leave now little Ritter," he said sitting at his mahogany desk, "sleep on what I said."

      But I didn't want to, and I did not. I don't know about you, but I don't particularly like nightmares.