Green Records

Chapter 1

Eggs and Hotdogs

All day I've been craving hotdogs and eggs. Not together of course, but craving them all the same. The only thing that was stopping me from making my hotdogs and eggs was the fact that I am as good at cooking as bees are good at making root beer.

That means I stink at it.

Even the Curvey kids don't seem content with there usual hot pockets. I babysit the Curvey kids from five to eight every night, sometimes later, sometimes earlier. There are five Curvey kids and I know that seems like a lot, but I'm used to it. I'm not supposed to favor any one kid, but I must say that little Kindle Curvey has my heart. Kindle is a misfit. Almost all the other Curvey take after their mother and have the blond-blue eyes syndrome. Kindle is a green-eyed redhead, like her dad. Like I said there are five Curvey kids. The twins, Madison and David, are the oldest. They're nine years old and couldn't be anymore different. Madison is a soft-spoken and sweet, while David is full of mischief. All he has to do is give you a dimpled smile and gets out of whatever trouble he was in scott-free. Gwen, like me, is a middle child. She is a misfit, too. After the twins the Curvey's thought they couldn't have anymore children, so they adopted Gwen. Gwen is a sickly, pale six-year old with bright eyes and curly black hair. Of course the Curvey's were wrong about thinking they couldn't have anymore children because the year after that they had Kindle, and the year after that they had their last child, Neil. Usually the kids are restive and won't fall asleep until I've raked me brain for every bedtime store and lullaby I've ever been told, but tonight everyone seems pretty tired. The kids fall asleep before I start with the first 'Once upon a time'. I'm on the verge of falling asleep, when Mr. and Mrs. Curvey come home at seven thirty-two.

"Green, dear," Mrs. Curvey says, "Are they in bed already?" Sometimes, when the Curvey's come home the kids are still up and we all play a game on the Curvey's big dining room table.

"Yes, Mrs. Curvey, they fell asleep about ten minutes ago." I reply.

"Thank you, dear, and, please, call us Melony and Simon." Mrs. Curvey (or Melony) says pointing to Mr. Curvey (or Simon) as he checks on the sleeping kids. Mrs. Curvey is one of those people that say dear every chance they get.

"You're welcome Mrs. Curv-Melony. May I go home now? You can pay me tomorrow. I'm worried about Deth." Two months ago my sister, Deth, was hit by a drunk driver. Deth had not been killed, but had been acting funny ever since. She had just been released from the hospital two days ago and the whole family, plus Corey, had been watching her; making sure she was okay.

"Yes, of course dear. I hope she's doing better always was such a sweet child, such a dear!" I thanked Mrs. Curvey/Melony and walked home. Our house was big and blue. Every time I looked at it I was reminded of the day that Corey had moved in. I was ten. It was the week mom had disappeared and Dad decided he needed help with us kids. Corey used to be our maid, but now she was taking on the job of a full time babysitter. I remember overhearing the conversation she and dad had been having;

"Peter," She had said, "I cannot stay here, I miss my house, and I miss my blue."

"Corey, please we need you. I don't know where Maggie went and I don't know when she'll be back. Corey, you've raised two wonderful kids of your own, I'm sure you can handle my kids. Do anything to make yourself feel more comfortable."

And so our home was painted blue.

I don't think Corey asked for that, but since she didn't ask for anything dad wanted to give her the 'blue" she missed. Shortly after dad finished painting the house, he died. Corey was still with us, but dad wasn't, so I have resented her ever since I was ten.

As I took the keys out of my pocket I knew that Deth would be the only one home. That's why I had to leave early, to babysit my eighteen year old sister. Corey had taken Marmalade and Sheba to a play to "keep the normalcy", and Clementon was off on a date with some boy I knew she would drop as soon as the dinner was over. Mom had a thing for odd names. As I walked into the house I knew something was wrong. How? Well, you see Deth's a neat freak and as the oldest, she usually gets her way, however tonight her shoes where on the floor about an inch apart as if she kicked them off as soon as she got home. If I had been paying attention I would have noticed that the shoes where pointing to the room that Deth shared with Corey.

"Deth, I'm home.' I called. No one answered, so I knocked on her and Corey's door. There, covered in glass, was Deth, but I knew, somehow, that she was still alive. I stared for what seemed like forever and then I ran to the living room and dialed 911.

As an ambulance came into view I realized that I needed to call Corey. Corey said that she would call Clementon and meet me at the hospital. Deth and I rode in the ambulance and I told them about her medical history and what had happened to her two months ago. They asked me the name of the doctor that released her and I told them. The doctor's waited to tell me any news about Deth until Corey was with me. He told us that Deth was in a coma. I stared at the doctor. My sister, in a coma? It was bad enough when Deth had gone well "cookoo" but at least she was still her bright self then, now as I looked at her a poorly illuminated pale face stared back. I stepped out into the hallway where Clementon was watching Marmalade and Sheba with a sullen face.

"Well?" Clementon demanded; hands on hips.

Sometimes Clementon took her "job" as second oldest too far, she's only a year older than me, two years younger than Deth.

"She's in a coma" was all I said.

We drove home from the hospital in silence. Every question anyone could have thought to ask had been answered at the hospital and now, silence. At first Corey tried to fill that silence with things that no one really cared about. She asked about Clementon's date and she asked the girls if they liked Peter Pan the movie, or the play better. Even five years after my dad's death, Corey and I went out of our way not to talk to each other. It didn't matter however, because whatever question she would have thought up for me, one thing would be on my mind. My sister was in a coma. She was a step up from being dead.