Worse than the worst

Chapter 1

Chapter One

~~Narrator~~

At the aquarium, Melvin leaned over the 5,000 square foot glass cube, safe from falling behind a thin railing. He didn't care. He liked watching the blue whale, the only living one in the world, as it swims around the green water, so different from all the fish and smaller creatures. He imagined himself being that great blue whale and smiled. 

It was 8 o'clock AM according to Melvin's Tim's chips brand watch and he knew that Mario and his parents would be waking momentarily back at home. That was bad; he was currently 1.3 miles from home and carrying a large backpack, which would slow his travel. Inside, was a half-eaten handmade chicken sandwich, and his latest project. It was a fantasy book with a shiny green cover. The cover was last night's project. Today he was just relaxing and taking a break. There was nothing illegal about visiting the aquarium, despite what Mario thought. Melvin was simply getting some ideas flowing.

You see, Melvin is weird. He gets his main pleasures from wildlife and, of course, his writing. Recently, he's been taking to going out to the aquarium at night, and doing his writing there. Currently 17, he thinks of this year as his last chance to see the aquarium.

In spite of this, Melvin has secret hope in the back of his mind that keeps him up and working.  But he understands that all too soon the glaciers will be gone,  and his (parent's) house will be underwater.

Before leaving the aquarium, Melvin watches the blue whale staring hungrily at a slimy fin whale.

~~Melvin~~

As I run up the hill near my house, I sprint faster, the steeper the hill gets. At 8:15 AM I'm home. I swing my backpack over my shoulder and search for the key floating in the mess of coins. "Oops," I say not loud enough to be heard over the clang of my backpack hitting the mailbox.

I make my way to the backyard of my house. I climb up the stairs on the side of the porch and open the pouch in the front of my backpack and pull out my key. -Wait, this is not the key, I think and put the coin back in the backpack. I race around the house and grab the key to the back door from where I dropped it under the mailbox, then proceed to open the back door with it.

I slide my hands along the hallway walls as I walk to my bedroom on the far side of the house. A mirror at the end of the hallway tells me that the rings under my eyes are worse than ever.

My bedroom is warm and familiar to me so I crawl into the bed. It is weirdly placed in the middle of the room, not against any walls. Why would it be? If it were against the wall it would be covering some of the Lord of the Rings and Tintin posters. Some of the posters now go onto the ceiling, creating a certain obsession for posters.

~~Mario~~

Mel thinks that I don't know what he is up to. But being two years younger, I know exactly what he's up to. Does that sound creepy? Anyway, I won't tell anyone about his secret life. I know he steals and trespasses on private property, and I know where he goes. Those people at the zoo are evil. They keep a pack of wild wolves in a cage and that massive whale deserves a bigger home.

Today I plan to make Mel admit to his crimes. I'm clever that way. I can come up with a whole plan to make something happen exactly how I want. Basically, I have a written plan (sloppy of course) disguised as my argumentation essay homework. 

I reluctantly lunge out of bed, once out noticing that I'm not that tired. In the hallway, I do a silent cartwheel on the long runner carpet.

The first thing I do is go to the computer. I'm lucky to have it because it'll tell you good advice about your day. When you log on, you press the only button in the machine (the rest is thought activated). It scans your mind and body, tells you one piece of advice for the day, then precedes to log on to your account. This process was invented by Vint Cerf back in 2017. Over a five-year period of time, everyone started using it.

I don't know how things like that work. I'm not too good at understanding the functions of stuff.

My mind must stop wandering. Is there a syndrome that's like MWD or Mind Wandering Disorder? I look up the weather then close the computer.

Mel walks out of his room into the hallway. He walks in zig-zags with a mad expression on his face. He's wearing sweatpants, and his grown-out, curly hair is more noticeable than ever. There is a very good chance that he is joking, but I can't be sure. I decide to ignore him as usual. Like usual, this is not what he wants.

"Come on, Mario... what's up?" Mel says, his voice cracking on the word "on." He knows just the right thing to prevent me from talking to him. I would have told him about my mind wandering, but he's not the right person. Do you ever have that feeling where you can only tell the thing to one certain person? Occasionally I can't wait and just tell it to the wrong person. They never give you the right response. What's even worse than that is when the right person gives you the wrong response.

"I'm fine, how 'bout you?" Is the remark that escapes my mouth before I can stop it.

"Great, you?

"Let's go play Soccer." Yep, I'm random too. Soccer: The one thing we can do together. I like how our soccer field-sized backyard gives great practice for the "real thing."

"You know what they say. Life can be hard sometimes, but you have to just do what is best in the long term," I say to my brother. It's a glistening Saturday morning. Or is it Saturnday? I'm dyslexic that way. I say this to start loosening him up so he'll eventually admit what he's been doing. Of course, he doesn't understand and follows my stupid statement with an even dumber one.

"Do you want me to say something to that?"