18 Years

Looking For Help

Sebastian

We are all wonderful, beautiful wrecks. That's what connects us--that we're all broken, all beautifully imperfect.
- Emilio Estevez (American actor)

      I carefully slide my math test into my paper organizer, hands shaking because I'm so excited. I got a B+ on it! Yeah, I know it's not an A but I'm still pretty excited about it. I remember at the starting of the year when the best score I could get was a C-. I heard the final bell for the end of the day sound in the hallway, and I was one of the first students out the door. This may sound a little lame, but I just wanted to hang out with my parents. They're so cool! My new mom loves telling me cool facts about Wendigos, and my dad is teaching me how to cook. It's so nice to have normal parents. It's like a big weight has been lifted off my shoulders.

     "Hey! Hey Sebastian!" An eager voice cried behind me. I turned around to see Sharky's small figure pushing and elbowing through the crowd of students standing around the school entrance. When he caught up to me I could tell something was off. There was a sort of nervous feeling when he came up to me. That can't be good.

     "Is something wrong?" I asked him. He was bent over with his hands on his knees. I think he was panting. What he has to say must really be important if he full on sprinted over here to tell me.

     "There isn't a really subtle way to say this,  but something is definitely wrong with Clyde." He said in a matter of fact way.

     "Sharky, what does that even mean?" I shot at him. I was getting worried.

     "I think I heard him crying in the bathroom today. I asked him what was wrong but he just said something about a letter." Sharky said sadly.

     "A letter? A letter from who?" I wondered aloud.

     "He showed it to me," Sharky said looking down. "It looked really old, and the words were written in really swirly cursive so I couldn't make out what it said." He got quiet.

     "Sharky!" I yelled as I face palmed. "We have to know what's up with Clyde! What if something really bad is going to happen?"

     "Should we ask him?" Sharky said in a serious tone.

     "I think that's the only thing we can really do." I answered back.

          I went back home, distraught as ever. Sharky went back to his new apartment next to my own, where my parents checked on him every other day and payed his rent. I love my parents, and I feel like I could tell them anything. So maybe I could tell them about Clyde and the letter? I opened the door to the bookstore and heard the familiar bells clang when the door swung. My mom was working the cash register, so I probably couldn't ask her about it right now. I said hello, kissed her cheek, and told her I would be doing homework upstairs. I climbed the winding staircase up to the loft to see if my dad was busy. I dropped off my backpack in the foyer and slipped off my shoes.

     "Dad, I'm home!" I called into the house.

     "Ah, my boy is back! How was school? Learn anything especially riveting?"My dad called back. He was probably in his study, reading documents and spreadsheets for the bookstore.

     "School was pretty good, and I guess I learned about animal cells in science today." I answered him as I walked into his office. He was hunched over a stack of papers, wearing a pair of thick glasses.

     "Can I ask you something?" I asked his ghostly pale figure. He turned around in his swivel chair. He nodded.

     "So, um,  today Sharky told me that he saw Clyde with a letter today."

     "A letter? I wonder what that could mean?" He scratched his chin.

     "Sharky said he seemed pretty upset about it. Do you think it could be something about his family?" I asked. It was easy talking to him, unlike to some teachers and other adults.

     "With Clyde's past, I wouldn't be surprised if it was about his family. If I were you, I would ask him about it. If he doesn't want to talk about it, then don't push him. I hope this helps?" He said hopefully.

     "Thanks dad, you really helped." I quickly hugged him, smiled, and told him I would be doing homework in the kitchen if he needed me. I grabbed my backpack and started on a English paper. After talking to my dad, I felt less tense and stressed. After finishing up my homework, I sent a text to Clyde. It read:

"hey, it's seb. i heard about a letter? if you need to talk, i'm there for you"

     I decided that was good enough, so I put my backpack away to take a walk. I haven't taken a walk in quite a while. I just needed to be alone for awhile, and just to think a little.