Two Captains

Chapter 1

The door bangs open, and fourteen year-old George Kirk Jr. stomps out of Jim's Uncle Frank's house, carrying a duffel bag containing his few belongings. Jim's redneck-type Uncle Frank follows George and Jim and I cautiously follow them, leaving enough distance between us and Frank in case we need to make a run for it.

"Go! Run away!" Frank shouts, gesturing angrily with his hands. "You know I could give a damn!"

"Why is he...?" Jim trails off, then looks at me, then at George. "Come on." He says to me, grabs my wrist, and runs to George. "Wait, no! Where are you going?"

"Anywhere but here, far as I can get!" George answers.

"Which won't be far enough! You know what you're problem is?!" Frank shouts, overhearing them. He spits on the ground before continuing. "No one ever taught you respect! How to follow orders! Do as you're told!" He speaks to Jim and I now. "What the hell are you two doing?"

"I-I just don't want my brother to go." Jim answers.

"Well I do-and I asked you to wash the car! How many damn times do I need to repeat myself?! How many damn times?! How many?!"

"As many times as you feel like saying 'damn'." I mutter.

"What was that?" Frank snaps at me. "Did I hear a smart comment from you Adams?"

I shake my head. "No sir."

Frank steps towards me and leans into my face, his breath smells strongly of alcohol.

"Listen to me you little smart-ass." He says. "I don't need you going 'round here talking like you do, you hear? I don't give a damn that Pike takes care of you-you listen to me when you're here!" He pauses. "Understand?"

I nod.

Frank stands up, glares at George, then walks off. Jim nervously follows George and I walk next to Jim. He pulls out a small floating disc.

"Please stay-you can have my Flo-Yo!"

George hits the toy away.

"This isn't about toys, it's Uncle Frank. I can't take him anymore-Mom had no idea what he's like when she's not here-do you hear him talking like he's our dad?! And that's not even his car you're washing! That was Dad's car! You know why you're washing it?! Because he's going to sell it!"

"Don't leave-okay? We can tell Mom when she gets back." Jim pleads.

"She's gone for five more months, by then I'll be in a different system." George sees the fear in Jim's expression. "You're gonna be okay, you always are. You've got Natasha with you. I've got nobody-"

"You've got me!" Jim protests.

"You're gonna be okay-you get good grades, always obey every stupid order..." He trails off. "I can't be a Kirk in this house. Show me how to do that and I'll stay." His eyes flicker between Jim and I.

I can't think of anything, and neither can Jim. George realizes this, then gives Jim a quick hug, looks at me, nods, then turns around and walks off. Jim watches his brother go and I look over at him and squeeze his hand.

"Come on." I say to him. "We should probably go before Frank yells at us again."

Jim nods before we turn and walk back to the house. As we walk back, all I can think is; how can you abandon your eleven year-old brother, leaving him to depend on his redneck uncle Frank and with no one as a friend but an adopted eleven year-old British-American girl?