#Wattys2015 The Ghost of James Fitzpatrick

Chapter 19

Sarah opened the front door of her home and reversed her ritual of boots at the door, and hung her coat on the coat hook. She had not been clubbed over the head with a message from God at church, and at the moment was frustrated and taking it very personally, until she stepped into the living room.

There was a fire in the fireplace, the house smelled amazing, Josh was doing homework on the floor, and her mom was getting a pot roast on the table in the kitchen. With the two small exceptions of her dad not being home until next Sunday, and that she might be falling in love with a dead boy, Sarah couldn't help but be appreciative for the small and absolutely perfect things in front of her right now.

"I'm home," she yelled into the kitchen toward her mother, then "hiya Josh," she said.

"Hi," he replied less than enthusiastically.

"What're you working on?" she asked.

"Homework. The Holocaust."

"Wow, that's serious. Aren't you still in 7th grade?"

Josh rolled onto his back.

"It started with The Diary of Anne Frank, now we've moved to Elie Weisel. It's depressing," said Josh.

"Yeah, well, mass human annihilation tends to be dismal subject."

Sarah picked up Josh's reference book by well-known holocaust survivor, author and Nobel Prize Winner Elie Weizel, and flipped it over to look at the back. She had a poster in her room with a famous quote by Mr. Weisel.

Her mom yelled in from the kitchen.

"Set the table guys!"

Josh rolled his eyes and got to his feet. He left his school books open on the floor and made his way to the dish cabinets.

"I'll be right back to help you set the table," she said to Josh as she ran up the stairs two at a time to her bedroom. She shoved her door open wide and looked around. The desk, the window, the bed, the floor. No James. Sarah exhaled.

There above her door, the poster James had pointed to last week. The author's words, heartfelt and borne of the anguish of Auschwitz, were displayed on a overly cheery beach scene to create a poster befitting a girls room, but the words had nonetheless always been potent to Sarah.

"The opposite of love is not hate, it's indifference. The opposite of art is not ugliness, it's indifference. The opposite of faith is not heresy, it's indifference. And the opposite of life is not death, it's indifference. – Elie Weizel"

Now Sarah felt sufficiently clubbed over the head. She would not be a bystander. Sarah had even heard her father say before: people are not merely good because they do no evil, they are good because they actively do what is good. Again, don't be a bystander. She smiled to herself, then heard her mother holler from downstairs.

"Get down here and help your brother set the table."

She took one last look around her room for James, and then bolted down the stairs to the kitchen.

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