The Shell of Casper

- 3 - Strings

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Five years ago...

    Rain slashed against the window of Rose Lowery's house, the smell of warm bread filling her nose with each breath. Her father was in the kitchen, an apron wrapped around his middle and flour dusting his oven mittens. Rosie could see him from her spot on the living room couch as he tugged out the dense loaf of bread from the oven and grinned proudly. He batted a stack of mail box contents splattered from the rain off the table to set down his pan.

She let herself smile a bit too. An angry yowl came from the glass door of their patio, where Casper's cat sat with a seething stare. His orange fur was slick and ruffled. Rosie chuckled and let the vermin in. He stalked to the fireplace where the fire crackled lowly, reduced down to glowing embers more than a toasty fire. Collapsing into a dripping squat, the cat aggressively groomed his soaked-to-the-bone fur.

    "Rosie!" A familiar voice rambled from their front door as the screen clacked shut. In the moment it was open, a muggy gust of wind swept through the house and the slashing of pelting rain echoed into each room. The cat leapt up in fear at the sudden sound, raising his hackles and lashed his tail back and forth in an adorable attempt to seem like a threat. He looked like a scrawny sewer rat. Casper kicked off his rain boots and padded into the room, leaving a trail of wet sock-prints as he squelched in. He gave her cat a humorous glance and rolled his eyes, "Real scary, aren't you, Huck?"

    Huck. Rosie forgot his name from time to time. Casper had named him after a novel or an author... or something like that. Huck was technically a stray. But he began to follow Casper around for the past couple years and ended up finding two homes, wandering freely as he may and having double the beds to sleep in. Spoiled brat. Rosie stuck her tongue out at the scrunched pink nose and arched back.

    Casper thudded into his usual place across from her in the single-seat, his gangly legs tossed over the chair's puffy arm. Rain plastered down his hair and splattered down his shirt.

"You're dripping all over the place," Rosie waved her hands in exaggeration. "You almost have less manners than that mangy thing." Huck prowled back to his mat at the fire, sourly.

"Huck and I have achieved a level of class that some have yet to appreciate." Casper batted his lashes and raised his chin.

"Sure," Rosie sighed dramatically, trying to hide her smile. "If you and Huck are so alike then why don't you go sit with him on the mat?"

    Casper looked to her with a challenge in his light blue eyes, and rolled off the chair to lay across the floor, his head on the mat.

"Classy." Rosie muttered, never seeming to win in a battle of wits.

"Aren't I?" Casper chuckled, then quieted. His eyes flicked to her, practically glowing with excitement. The orange, citrusy glow from the stirred coals into his irises reminded Rosie of burning blue poppies, crackling flames eating away at delicate petals. He pursed his lips, "I have news."

Rosie scooted to the edge of her seat and cocked her head. Her father drifted in slowly, his eyes were wary. Rosie didn't give it much thought.

    Casper slid a letter out of his pocket, the corners of his mouth tugging up with each movement. It was in a white envelope with a jade green wax seal stamped on. It was torn open already, meaning Casper knew what was inside.

"Well, what is it?" Rosie stretched to peer at it, her interest sparking.

"I got my scholarship!" Dark hair letting loose a shower of raindrops, Casper bursted with a laugh of disbelief. "It pays for all my courses, all my books and supplies, a dorm. Everything."

"That's amazing!" She felt her heart clench with joy. "How'd you get it?"

"Well, I applied to so many, but I think this was the one with American Rewritten Consortium." Casper seemed to zone out, his grin ridiculously big. It stretched the subtle scatter of freckles peppered on his upper cheeks.

The American Rewritten Consortium! Rosie had never heard of it, as she was not much of a bookworm herself. She was not one for literature at all, she'd rather be on a boat, in the woods, on a mountain. She loved travelling and just the beautiful world itself. As for Casper, he was writing a series of historical fiction novels, which he had submitted in some of the programs offering scholarships to writers with strong potential. And knowing Casper, she knew that every organization looking for stars would be dying to get a hold of him. He was brilliant.

"I'm so happy for you." Rosie covered her mouth and shook her head. "This is incredible."

"Thank you," Casper winked at her from where he was still sprawled over the cinder-warmed mat with Huck curled against his side. "I think it's a specialized branch in the company, if it is The ARC. It's called In A Blink. Sounds poetic, right?"

    Rosie nodded engagingly. She truly was excited for him, though she hadn't had much luck herself with scholarships. It was hard when half the kids her age in this town were seeking to study abroad, to get out of this small town. How was she any different than the others? Casper, on the other hand, wrote novels so deep and original that she wouldn't imagine there would be another author, or person even, that'd be a better candidate than him. She let out a breath.

"So, tell me about this specialized branch." Rosie rested her head in her hands, leaning down so he could see her face.

"It's only a half hour away apparently. I have a seminar to attend to for those awarded with the scholarship in three days. We learn the details then. But they mention something about," Casper unfolded the sheet and bit his lip, "There's a test we have to take." He grimaced.

"Oh my God, relax. You'll ace it, whatever it is." Rosie smiled and pulled on her soft, pink hoodie. The room was growing colder as the ashes cooled.

"Maybe." Casper pushed his wet hair from his eyes. "It says it influences a study they're working on, a social experiment. I don't know what that means. They probably want to make sure that people are serious and know what they're doing."

"Yeah," Rosie sat up, chewing on the string of her hoodie idly. "Probably. They most likely are making sure all the authors aren't all antisocial dummies like you." Leaning down, Rosie whacked him amicably on the arm. He grabbed her before she could retreat  and pulled her onto the floor. She tumbled onto the soft rug with an eruption of laughter. 

Rosie's dad left the room, never once offering a word.