Script

Chapter Ten: Home?

Let's go on record here and tell you that I have NEVER had a house. The closest thing I've had was our camp. But I'm guessing that's gone now.

             "You have some explaining to do Mark." He got up off the couch and walked into the kitchen. Pulling out tomato sauce, spaghetti, and a pan, he turned on gas stove and started the pasta.

             "I'm Mark Louis Ridge. I'm seventeen. My birthday's August 5th. My parents are dead. I live in "the house under the cave". My favorite food's sushi. And I'm here to help you." He said with a shrug of his shoulders.

             "Help me do what exactly?" I questioned.

            "I already told you. To find our script." He replied.

             "What's this script again?" I asked for the millionth time.

             "I'll explain over dinner." He said, laying out plates on the table.

•~•~•~•

            Mark sat across the table from Amy and me.

             "Patrick and Aileen were archeologists." I flinched again. "Sorry" Mark apologized. "Your parents were archeologists. Very respected archeologists might I add. Ten years ago, they were sent to find an artifact in Italy. No one knows if they found it or not. But on their way home, they died in a train accident.

             "Don't remind me" I grunted, slurping spaghetti into my mouth.

            "Well, this artifact I speak of," Mark took a bite off his fork. "Is a lost script of William Shakespeare." Amy gasped.

            "The William Shakespeare?" She said in awe.

            "The William Shakespeare." Mark answered, ruffling Amy's hair.

            "Ok. But if my parents found it, why do you get to take partial ownership?" I asked, still confused.

            "Because my father was your dad's best friend, and was on the trip with them."

            "Oh. I'm sorry." I said softly.

            "It's fine." Mark said standing up and lifting the plates from the table.

             "Hey Aim, why don't you go shower so I can wrap your arm again." I suggested.

            "Ok." Amy said turning to Mark for directions.

            "Strait Down the hall. It'll be the first door on the left." Mark said pointing her in the general direction. As Amy left the room he turned to me. "Why do you call her Aim?" He asked with a quizzical look on his face.

             "Because it sounds like her name, and well, you should see her with a sling shot. She's amazing." I answered, turning to face the boy in front of me.

             "Give me a hand with the dishes?" He said, throwing his paper plate in the trash.

            "Yah, I know how hard it is to throw paper away." I replied, smirking. Mark scrubbed the pan in the sink.

            "Want to see your room?" He asked hanging the pan above the stove.

             "My room?" I asked.

            "Yah. You lived here ya know." He said leading me down the hall. We walked past the bathroom and I could hear soft whimpers through the running water. "Here we are." Mark said, turning to a door on the right. It was a plain, white, wooden door with my name nailed on in small wooden letters. I ran my fingers across them as I slowly pushed the door open. What I saw was beautiful.