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THE SCHOOLHOUSE KIDS

12/2/2015

Max and his new crewMax had been waiting outside the school for Zoe when Diane intercepted her. What the heck was Diane Rockway doing hanging around Zoe? Probably using her to do her homework for her or something. He stood casually against a building, chewing on a toothpick, about a block and a half away. He just wanted to talk to her. Make sure she was all right.

Then two things happened. The door at Reynolds busted open, and a kid was hauling butt, coming directly toward him. Seconds later, Diane was screaming after him. “Get back here with my money, you little twerp! Don’t just stand there, Zoe, go get him.”
Max stepped forward and grabbed the kid by the scruff of his neck.

“Let me go! Let me go! Let me go!” the kid tried kicking him. Max held him easily at arm’s length. The kid was feisty. Max could give him that. He continued to hold him while Zoe and Diane made their way over.

“Give it back. He stole the money right off the check when Zoe and I went into the bathroom, the little thief,” Diane said, pointing her finger in his face.

Max shook the kid. “Did you steal her money?”

The boy was crying. “You don’t know anything. She’s rich. I can tell. She don’t need it like I do. She’s probably never gone hungry a day in her life.”

“Wo, wo, wo, hold up,” Max said. “You got a lot to learn, kid. Just because she’s got money doesn’t mean she don’t have problems.”

“What, like a broken nail?”

“No, I’m pregnant, you little twit, so my parents cut off my allowance, because I’m refusing to get rid of it, so that 40 dollars you just stole is the little bit that I got left.”

The boy settled down fast and became quiet. “You got a baby in there?” he pointed at her stomach. “If I give you your money back, you won’t put it in foster care, right?”

“What’s it to you? You’re going to give me my money back no matter what I do. It’s my money. It belongs to me.”

“Give Diane her money back, kid. You don’t need to be a witch about it Diane. The kid’s obviously hungry.”

“Me? A witch? Aren’t you the trailer trash that bullies everyone and spends more time out of school than in it? Total Loser with a capital TL.”

Max’s face blossomed red and he stepped toward her, but the kid got in front of him, and grabbed his shirt, causing him to side-step and fall to the ground so he wouldn’t crush the kid. Max felt the cold air on his back, and hurriedly pulled his shirt down. Zoe’s gasp and their silence thereafter told him they’d seen everything. The belt welts and bruising on his back.

Max stared at them, fists clenched, daring them.

It was the kid to speak first. “Your old man do that?”

“You know what?” Max said through gritted teeth. “I don’t need this. I’ll see you around, Zoe,” he looked at her apologetically, and turned to walk away. He didn’t have to worry about it getting around school. His old man didn’t want him going back to school anyway.

“Hey, wait for me,” the kid said in his high voice.

“Don’t follow me, kid. Go back home to your parents.”

“I don’t have parents. I do got a place, though. I ran away from foster care, and I’m never going back.”

“You’re an orphan?” Diane asked. “Why did you run away? You’re just a kid.”

“I’m 10,” he said proudly. “I stopped being a kid a long time ago. I got an idea. You see, this place is abandoned. No one knows about it. It’s like a whole house. We could live there, you know? You won’t need to get beat up any more,” he said to Max, “And you can keep your baby and stuff so it don’t wind up like me,” he said to Diane. Then he looked at Zoe, “And I don’t know what your deal is, but you’re like gothic, so you gotta have problems.”

“I’m not gothic. I just have black hair,” Zoe said.

“I like your hair. I think it’s really nice,” Max said.

“Thanks,” Zoe said oddly.

“I can show you the place. It’s like 15 minutes from here. It’d sure be nice to have some friends.”

“I’m in,” Max said. “I’d do anything to get away from my old man. If the kid’s got a secret hideout, I want to see it. There’s no harm in just checking it out. That way we all know where it is, just in case. Zoe, you coming?”

“I . . . can’t,” she said biting her lip. “The kids will be getting off the bus, and my Dad expects me home to make dinner.”

“You have to cook? You’re 12,” Diane said.

“Mom left. Someone has to do it. Dad works all day and pays the bills.”

“Diane?” Max looked at her expectantly.

“What?”

“Do you want to see this place or not?”

“There’s no reason. I’m going to keep throwing a fit until I get what I want, and I always get what I want.”

“What if this is the one time that you don’t?”

“Fine, my parents are probably still throwing their hysterics anyway.”

“I got like two bucks on me. You need to cover the rest. We’ll get a pizza for Zoe’s dad. She needs to see this place, too.”

“Zoe doesn’t have a situation like the rest of us. What does it matter if she’s a part of this or not? Is there a situation, Zoe? Is there something you’d like to tell the peanut gallery?” Diane said.

“No, really guys, it’s okay. Dad only allows pizza occasionally on Sunday nights when he has his friends over. I really need to get home.”

“Not everyone broadcasts their issues like you do, looking for sympathy, Diane,” Max said protectively. “There’s a lot of people that suffer in silence and don’t talk about their problems.”

“And I suppose there’s a lot of people that don’t deal with their problems, then beat on everyone else cause they’re being beat,” Diane quipped.

“You’re the money mouth that went and got herself pregnant, probably for attention, and it just didn’t work out the way you wanted.”

“You don’t know anything about me.”

“And you don’t know anything about Zoe, so shove it. Either we’re doing this, or not. You’re either in or out, but if you’re in, you gotta help out.”

“Guys, stop. I got an idea. You come with me,” the kid pointed at Max. “You got a watch?”

“Yeah,” Max said.

“We can all meet up tomorrow morning before school starts. That’ll give us the whole day.”

“You mean skip school?” Diane said.

“I can’t go back to school anyway,” Max said. “My old man wants me to get a job.”

“It’ll be like an adventure. We’ll need supplies and things,” the filthy kid said.

“What kind of supplies?” Diane asked.

“I don’t know. You’re the girl. Whatever girls need, I guess.”

“This could be fun. You’ll need to come too, Zoe. I don’t want to be the only female,” Diane demanded.

“I don’t know. I’ve got a biology test tomorrow, and I haven’t missed a single day of school this year.”

“Come on, Zoe, learn to live a little. You’re so blah. You need some personality. You’re like a 12 year old body acting like a 40 year old. Bor-ing.”

“Please, Zoe, just this once,” Max pleaded.

“Fine, 8:30 tomorrow. But I have to be back by 3:40.”

“We better get going before it gets dark,” the kid said to Max.

“Umm, excuse me. You forgetting something? Like, my money?”

“Oh, come on, Diane. The kid needs it more than you do.”

“You can have my leftovers, but I still need to pay the restaurant bill or my Dad’ll find out I’m not at my study group.”

Max chuckled. “See, we’re not all that different. My old man thinks I’m out looking for a job.”

“My old foster care thinks I’m at a group home,” the kid added.

Everyone turned to Zoe, and she almost smiled. “Library.”

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THE MODULES SAMPLE CHAPTER

5/31/2015

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After that incident, I began taking three outings a week, one hour a piece, 7 ½ minutes to get there, 7 ½ minutes to get back, and a 45 minute lesson in self- defense and butt-whooping. For so long I’d been so focused on the adults being the enemy that I hadn’t realized that people my age could be even worse. No one knew what happened to those girls and guys, and I, personally, didn’t care. We were advised that cameras were now installed in all restrooms in the public area of the restroom.

On top of all my other names, I became known as the girl who took out nine people with my fists in the girl’s bathroom. Sometimes it was nine and other times it was 15. My hopes of being able to make a single friend during my time in the Modules were completely crushed after that. The lunch room would practically clear out when I arrived, so I began taking my food to go. I worked on my dissertation day and night, which gave me free clearance into the lab. Since I was experimenting on myself, it was literally day and night, as even as I slept, I kept a tape recorder running to monitor myself, both on and off the mind-enhancers.

I was fast accumulating all this knowledge into my conscious that had previously been locked into my sub-conscious and only accessed through the mind enhancement drugs. It excited me. It sickened me. It amazed me. It scared me.

Everything they had implanted in my sub-conscious brain when I was 13, 14 years old when I’d had no awareness. I ran out of my karate class one day when I was facing an opponent to perform the moves we’d been instructed, and I began doing all these moves I’d no recollection of ever having learned.

But how well-rounded was I? I went to a restaurant, one day, and knew every single ingredient and exactly how they’d prepared it. The piano in the auditorium drew me toward it, and I played Tchaikovsky like I’d been doing it my entire life. I tested my computer skills and hacked into the government system and learned the H school stood for Health and Home, as well as the address the Commander had already provided me.

It was during one of my Clinicals when our supervising Doctor went into cardiac arrest and I laid him out and performed open heart surgery, on the spot, and everyone looked at me like I truly was some kind of freak, when I locked myself in my room for three days with meds I’d stolen to try to shut my brain down. I wound up having a bad reaction and getting my stomach pumped. Something you never want to experience.

They believed it a suicide attempt and wanted to get me into an inpatient rehabilitation center, the place my Dad had gone and never come back the same, and this caused me to react badly.

“I swear, I was only trying to shut my brain down. It’s the mind enhancers,” I told my Psych. “They give me insomnia. If you don’t believe me, use your truth serum.”

Well that did it. No one was supposed to know about that, and I realized my mistake after I said it, due to being in a pure-reactive state.

The President of the school was brought in and the Psych spoke to him as though I wasn’t sitting right there with ears.

“We believe she may be experiencing a psychotic episode. She keeps rambling on and on about how she couldn’t get her brain to shutup, so she kept taking sedatives to try to make her brain stop, how she performed open heart surgery and can play Tchaikovsky and knows black belt karate, and now she is showing paranoid tendencies in accusing us of using truth serum.”

I could not believe this was the little mouse of a man Psychologist that I had trusted. “I wasn’t accusing you of using truth serum. I told you to use it so you can know I’m telling the truth. That’s what they use in movies.” I was trying to sound calm and reasoning, but it was difficult because they had me restrained to the bed, and being restrained to the bed reminded me too much of being restrained to the bathroom floor, and restrained during my total body paralysis my first day here, and I was nearly throwing up my panic, because of how much there was.

The President gave a nod of his head, and the MD took out a needle. I let out one heck of a blood-curdling scream, and then just as the President was leaving, I yelled, “I found out the formula. The formula for the Mind Enhancers so that people can remember what they learned even when they’re not on it. I figured it out and I’ve been testing it on myself. It was for my dissertation.”

The MD stopped coming toward me. The Psych stopped rubbing his hands. The President of the School stopped walking out the door, then slowly turned.

“Does it work?” he asked.

“Yes, but it has an adverse effect with the type of sedatives I took.”

“What did you take?”

“Some over the counter drug I got at Rite Aid.” I sure as heck wasn’t going to admit I’d taken it from the lab.”

“You should have had staff monitoring you. Real trained professionals.”

“And let them get their hands on my formula? Peshaw!”

“Where is it?” he said, and his eyes looked greedy.

“Let me loose and I’ll get it.”

He provided the signal.

“Sir, I really think that she needs to be evaluated in an inpatient facility for a few days,” my Psych-I-will-never-like-again said. He threw me to the dogs the moment I mentioned the serum. I’d had to hear his anxious twittering about losing his job like a mouse caught in a trap.

“You idiot, we are an inpatient facility. She lives here and we’re a fully-trained and operating medical facility.”

The voice was also telling me the President’s motive to take the credit for himself in developing the formula that they’d spent years trying to find.

I took him to the mail room.

“What’s it doing in here?” he said tensely.

“I was sending it to the Denver office for them to fully test it, before I finished my dissertation.

“Why? We could have tested it here?” he said, hardly able to contain his anger.

“Was I mistaken? I thought Denver, being the main headquarters, was where it had to get approval first prior to testing?”

He addressed the mail clerk. “We’re looking for a –.”

“Manila envelope.”

“About –.”

“This thick,” I held my hands an inch apart

“That’s addressed to the headquarters in Denver.”

“Colorado?” the mail clerk said.

The President growled, “Move out of the way, I’ll find it myself.” He wasn’t a happy man, and what he said and shown on the outside was only two percent of everything he had to say on the inside, believe me. He had a potty mind.

“Is there anything more you need from me, sir?” I called to him.

He grumbled and cursed, so I helped myself out, and went immediately to the phone.

“This is Garrett.”

“Hello, Garrett. It’s Cat.” Finally I’d gotten my chance to say that.

“Cat? How did you get my personal cell – never mind. I don’t even know why I bother asking. You in trouble?”

“Now what makes you think I’d be in trouble? Maybe I just called to say hi.”

“Because I know you,” but his voice was good natured.

“I’ve got something here for you that the President of the School is trying very very hard to get his hands on.”

“What is it?”

“Anyone ever tell you that you don’t provide confidential information over the phone? When can you be here?”

“Do I have a time limit?”

“I have a feeling that if you wait too long, the President will have me in an interrogation room to try to get this information.”

“I’ll be there as fast as I can. This better be good, because I’m going to have to call off a very important meeting.”

“I’m not good enough?” I said with a pout.

“You’re much more than that. You’re my greatest weakness.”

“I’m not leaving the facility, so don’t let them tell you I’m on an outing. I’ve never seen the President this way before.”

“Are you in danger, Cat?”

“I’m not sure,” I said seriously.

“You still got the ring I gave you?”

“Yea, why, you want me to punch them with it?”

He chuckled, “No, there’s a little button on the underside of the ring. If anything happens or you find yourself in danger, press that button? Only press it if there’s a problem.” Then he hung up the phone before I could say anything.

I went to my room and found the ring in the back of my underwear drawer. I looked on the underside and, sure enough, there was a button.

I sat on the bed cross-legged for a couple hours, reminding myself time and time again that he told me not to press it unless something happened.

I pressed it. Oops.

The purple gem of the ring opened up and I saw the reflection of my face in a camera lens.

I nearly peed myself when I heard, “Something happening?” in his voice, coming through the ring.

“It was an accident,” was all I could think to say. I pressed the button as quickly as I could while he was in the midst of cursing at me, and it became just a simple purple gem again.

A knock came at the door. Assuming it was the Commanding Officer, I opened it wide, to find, instead, the President (Principal) of the school, and a couple other people standing in the background acting like they were there for a purpose other than being the President’s bodyguard or worse.

“Sir, so what’d you think?” I asked.

“About what?”

“The dissertation?”

“It wasn’t there. Denver hasn’t received it yet, so they’ll be shipping it back as soon as they receive it, but what I need to know is if you have another copy?”

“No, I don’t,” I said, acting disappointed.

“How can you not have another copy? Is it on your notebook?”

“No, I didn’t type it yet. It’s all handwritten. As I told you previously, I wasn’t going to finalize it until after it had been tested on a control group other than myself.”

This didn’t seem to make him too happy. “Well, if you’ve been using it on yourself, you’ve had plenty opportunity to mix it yourself, so just write down the formula and we’ll go from there.”

“It’s a very complex formula. I do not have it memorized.”

He exploded, “So you’re saying you sent your one and only copy of the formula to Denver and didn’t have brains enough to hold onto a copy, in case it never got there?”

I remained silent and dropped my head, like I was humbled, and pressed the button on my ring, until he demanded I answer him.

“The dissertation isn’t due until August 1st, so as far as I’m aware, I’m not required to turn in anything until that date. It’s not finalized. I need the proper permissions first. Without the proper testing, it’s nothing more than a theory. If there’s an issue with that, take it up with the handbook.”

“Speaking of the handbook, I’m pretty sure we have strict policy enforcing that without a prescription, students are not to use any type of medication from the lab. Am I to assume correctly that you’ve been mixing this in the lab? Jerry,” he called out to one of the guys in the hall, pretending to study the paint. “What’s the repercussion for that per the handbook?”

“Transfer and/or termination.”

“You better pick your brain apart for that formula and give it to me by 1300 hours, and I will possibly consider your transgressions forgiven,” he said.

“Well I certainly never imagined God would look like you. That’s disappointing. How about this one? You will not get that formula until I am graduated and certified, and if you even consider transferring or terminating me, you will never see that formula.”

“Are you threatening me?”

“No more than you are me.”

“You listen to me, little girl. I have ways of getting exactly what I want, and I want that formula, whether you’re prepared to give it to me or not.”

“There is no formula. I told you that in order to protect myself from being shot up with another needle and transferred to a suicide ward.”

He spit and sputtered, and his face bulged like a zit about to explode. “I’ve got a much better place for you than an institution, and you’ll stay there as long as it takes to get the information I want.”

He beckoned for the three Guards to grab me, while answering his ringing cellphone. “Sir . . . yes sir . . . an hour? . . . No, no inconvenience at all . . . Who? . . . Absolutely, I’ll arrange her schedule for a meeting if I can track her down. . . . Sorry, sir, I meant when, when I track her down . . . May I ask . . .”

He stared at his phone like he wanted to smash it, then slowly eased it to his pocket.

“We’ll have to pick this up at a later date. The Commanding Officer of High Intelligence will be here in an hour and he wants a meeting with you,” he said as though you was referring to a bunch of maggots.

“That’s excellent news. He must have gotten the formula and now wants to come here and personally congratulate me. I’d say it’s been nice knowing you, but my parents taught me never to lie. Please close and lock the door behind you. I wouldn’t want anyone going through my stuff when I’m gone, but then again, I suppose that’s what the cameras are there for,” I said happily.

He suddenly straightened and began looking around the room.

I hung out in HR until I got the call to report to 1302. I practically skipped there, carrying the dissertation I’d hidden in the lab. The secretary had my coffee all ready for me.

“Yay, you got large cups.”

“Well, the coffee guzzlers of today aren’t like the coffee sippers of yesterday.”

“That’s for sure,” I said, taking a couple swallows of the freshly brewed coffee. She just shook her head, smiling at me. “Is he ready for me?”

“Go right in.”

The door hardly closed and I wasn’t even seated when I said, “So did you fire him?” with a huge smile.

“Catina Salsbury. Need I remind you of the suit?”

“Sorry, did you fire him, Sir?”

He sat back and chuckled, “I don’t think it is a good thing that you are knowing my soft side too often, as you come to expect it, thereby eliminating your fear of me.”

“I was never afraid of you before, sir.”

“Look at you, your eyes are absolutely swirling with mischief. It turns your eyes a darker shade of blue.”

“You heard and saw what happened, right?”

“I did, but it really wasn’t necessary to provoke him. Any other person would have been quaking in their shoes when confronted with such a situation, and shut their mouth.”

“Then let’s be happy I’m not any other person. I don’t quake.”

“Careful, Catina, there’s a fine line between confidence and arrogance and you’re bordering on arrogance. Need I remind you of your moments of panic and hysteria that make you human, just like everyone else, and not immune to fear?”

“I’m pretty sure those are not the times I’m being considered human, and more often the times that somebody is trying to tell me I’m having a psychotic episode. I don’t even fall for it anymore, the line’s been used so often. I know I’m right when someone starts referring to my having psychosis because it’s their own paranoia that they’ll be losing their job.”

“That’s an interesting theory. Does that mean when you feel like you’re being watched and someone starts bringing up schizophrenic symptoms, this makes you believe even moreso that you’re being watched?”

“Yes, because the normal response would be for people to reassure me I’m not being watched. In the absence of their reassurance is their confirmation.”

“That’s a bit black and white thinking. What you’re saying is if no one complimented you, then they’re confirming that they don’t have anything to compliment you on, or if no one says they love you, then they’re confirming that they hate you.”

“No, I’m speaking accusations only. So, for example, if I accused you of hating me, and you didn’t deny hating me or reassured me that you didn’t hate me, rather told me something entirely off topic, then you’re confirming my accusation, because it is natural for someone to deny false accusations.”

“It’s natural for people to want to deny accusations, in general, whether true or false. It’s a matter of pride that determines whether they will deny it or not. Using your same example, you accuse me of hating you, you’ve rifled my pride, so I’d be more likely to tell you you’re being ridiculous or acting crazy, than to lower my pride and give you the compliment or reassurance you’re seeking.”

“So you brought us completely off topic from my original question to avoid having to answer it,” I said.

His eyes glinted. “That’s because I shouldn’t have to tell you that’s confidential information.”

“So is what I have here sticking out of my arm pit?”

“I’m not playing your little game, Catina.”

“Call me Cat.”

“I call you Cat, you want me to call you Catina. I call you Catina, you want me to call you Cat. You’re exhausting.”

“Then why did you give me a ring that provides me direct contact to you? I see only one ring on your hands, so unless you’ve given out a bunch of cellular rings, ha ha, get it, cellular rings? That must mean I’m not all that exhausting.”

“You’re letting this get to your head, and that concerns me. You’re usually a very level-headed person, if not, too serious, at times.”

That changed me. Back to my former self that came after the former self. “I’ll maintain level-headed as soon as people stop trying to stick needles in me, send me to psychiatric institutions, harass me for a formula that belongs to me, and when that harassment doesn’t work, threaten that I will be terminated or transferred if I do not provide it, then implicate some kind of interrogation techniques to force me to provide it.

“Would you have preferred me to cower and shake and give in and give him what he wanted out of fear of the consequences? And as far as your stupid ring and your inappropriate involvement in my life, I don’t need either one. I can protect and take care of myself and I don’t need you or anyone else to do so. I make my own way.” I threw the ring at him. “If you’re not going to take care of him, then I will. Good day, sir.”

“He’s being forced to resign. I didn’t mean to upset you. Cat can come back out and play. I was being insensitive and wasn’t thinking how upsetting all of this has been to you. Why don’t we get out of here for a bit, relax, and you can show me what you’ve been meaning to show me?”

“For all the trouble it has caused, I think I will just burn it, and forget I ever wanted to help the system that is caving in just on the basis that I might have something. There’s nothing in this world that isn’t corrupt, and there’s no telling who can or cannot be trusted. I’d rather play it safe and trust no one. And don’t you dare start talking about my symptoms, because I’ve seen and heard enough the past 24 hours to prove it. I’m getting out of here and I’m going where the tests tell me to go, and I will make it so that I don’t work beneath anyone. You stay away from me.”

“Cat, I jumped when you said jump, boarded an emergency flight that took four hours, took care of a situation, all over confidential information that you wanted to provide me. I’d like to assume, you felt you could trust me with it. You come in here, full of mischief over a serious matter, when I am in uniform and it is my responsibility to ensure that mischief is only directed in the right and appropriate places. I can’t believe I’m explaining myself to you. Sit down!” he yelled.

“No.” I opened the door. “And don’t call me that. My name is Catina.”

“Catina Salsbury, by order of your Commanding Officer and your superior, you get back in here this instant.”

I smiled at the receptionist who was standing with paled features. “He’d make a wonderful father, don’t you think? Coffee was great. Much appreciated.”

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The Reform Sample Chapter

4/27/2015

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I did all my testing in my room, forcing all the instructors out, so I could concentrate. The only tests I couldn’t do in my room were the medical exams and the psychological assessments. Instead of being brought to my Psychologist’s office, I was escorted to a wing of the building that had previously been off limits. I was not advised of where we were going or what any of it was about or what was next, nor did I ask. I waited.

            And waited, and waited. In a lobby of an area that didn’t have the appearance of a school whatsoever. There was a secretary and everything, magazines to look through, a TV with the volume on mute. The couch was the most comfortable thing I’d known in two years. I could curl up and take a nap.

            The secretary came back carrying a cup of coffee.

            “Is that for me?” I sat up.

            “Umm, no, aren’t you a little young for coffee?”

            I gave her the ‘you’ve got to be kidding’ look. “I’m here for the interview for the administrative assistant position.”

            “What administrative assistant position?”

            “Whoops, they didn’t tell you. How about that cup of coffee?”

            “So you’re harassing my secretary now, are you?” I heard him before I saw him.

            A giant of a man, spotless and wrinkle free, in starched military uniform, because even apparently full grown men had to be told how to dress.

            “They prefer to be called administrative assistants,” I said. “Did she come highly recommended? I had to practically blackmail her to get a cup of coffee,” I stood, snooty-like, pulling on my own uniform. 5 foot 8 inches and I still only reached his massive chest.

            “Catina Salsbury. What an honor it is to finally be able to meet you.” He smiled and put out his hand.

            “I’d say likewise if I had any idea who you were.” I put my hand out all the same to shake. His hand practically swallowed mine, then held on a little too long for comfort, until I pulled it away.

            “You may call me Commander Stavinksi, or sir, if you will. I’m the Head of High Intelligence.”

            “Well I’m the brain of high intelligence. So glad to finally be meeting the head.”

            He didn’t know what to think of that one.

            “Did you want cream and sugar?” the assistant called.

            “No, I prefer it black.” This should be interesting. I didn’t know how I liked my coffee, being as how I’d never had it before.

            “Come join me in my quarters.” He waved his arms toward a set of double-doors.

            “Will there be anyone else, or just you and I?”

            “Just the two of us, but don’t be nervous. I don’t bite.”

            That’s not what I’m afraid of. I thought.

            I heard, ‘I prefer to lick’. Okay, that totally was not my thought. Welcome back, Voice. Perhaps the coffee would cure me. If I could manage to get it down. So should have told her I wanted sugar. How do people drink this stuff?

            “Psychological assessments are required at each level, so I am standing in for Dr. Latoya today to perform yours.”

            “She’s not ill, is she?”

            He chuckled. “No, I don’t think that woman gets ill. She’s never missed a day of work in the eight years she’s been with us. Not one.”

            “That’s impressive,” I said.

            “It’s expected. I haven’t missed a day in twelve years, and I work seven days a week.”

            “That’s . . . sad.”

            “Do you always speak your mind so freely, Catina?”

            “Is there any other way?”

            “When was the last time you had your tea?”

            “Right before dinner, after my bath.”

            “You got quite a sense of humor on you. That’s surprising for a person of your intelligence, and what you’ve endured these couple years.”

            “Was I sick the day they gave the class on how intelligent people can’t have a sense of humor? Or was that somewhere in the handbook?”

            “Have a seat. Is the coffee of your good taste?”

            “If horrible is good taste.”

            He took the coffee from my hand. “Well then let’s find something more of your taste. I want you to be as comfortable as possible.”

            “I’m comfortable.” Lie. “Why don’t we just get started?”

            “Oh, but we already have. The moment you walked into the lobby.”

            “I love being watched when I don’t know I’m being watched.”

            “Are you saying you don’t feel like you’re being watched all the time?”

            “No, should I? Am I?”

            “Here, try this and tell me if you like it,” he provided me a creamy pink drink.

            “Does this have alcohol in it, because I’m only 14,” I said.

            “You crack me up, Catina.” He said without laughing. “Do you like your time spent here?”

            “In this room?”

            “In the school.”

            “Do you want probabilities?”

            “Just a simple question that requires a simple answer.”

            “Umm, yes?” He raised his eyebrow. “No? Can you repeat the question please? I’m not very good with simple.”

            “Do you like being the face of the Modules?”

            “Sometimes.”

            He kept walking around me, making me nervous.

            “Do you like the drink I gave you?”

            “I do, yes, very tasty.”

            “I want you to close your eyes and relax.”

            “O-kay?”

            “I’m going to ask you a set of yes or no questions. All you have to do is respond yes or no. Understand?”

            I gave him the thumbs up.

            “Is your name Catina Salsbury?”

            “Yes.”

            “Are you 14?”

            “No.”

            “What do you mean no?”

            “I thought these were yes or no questions.”

            “You are 14,” he said.

            “I’m 14 and a half,” I said

            The voice was getting pretty irritated.

            “Is your sister Kadrin Salsbury?”

            “Why?’

            “Yes or no only.”

            “What do you want with my sister?”

            “Do you have an issue following direction?”

            “Are we still on yes or no, or are you just asking me?” I asked innocently.

            “You’re really not making this easy.”

            “Um, no? Wait, was that a question?”

            “You know, Catina. You really are absolutely, wonderfully brilliant.”

            “I know. It’s more a curse than a blessing.”

            “If not for these other factors, you could go way above and beyond being a mere Doctor.”

            “What other factors?”

            “I’ve said too much.”

            “What factors? You can tell me you –.”

            In two steps he’d reached me, and cut off the rest of my words with his mouth. With his hand, he held my neck and my face, so I couldn’t turn away. I squealed and screamed and attempted to lift my knee, but his other huge arm, probably the length of my entire body, held me down. I dug my nails into the arm holding my neck and chin, and managed to get his face with my other hand, before he pulled away. Great, my first tongue kiss, and it was an old guy, against my will. Gross.

            He walked away laughing, though I’d drawn blood on his face. “Those factors. Someday someone is going to succeed in taming you, wild Cat. When that happens, you’ll be greater than any of us could ever wish to be. I think I know the trick, but you’re still a bit too young according to our laws. Laws, mind you, that will very soon change, if I have anything to do with it. Let this serve as a very important lesson to you, Cat.”

            “What lesson is that? Your breath smells like dog food, and you kiss like a cow?”

            “I look forward to seeing you at the graduation. We’ll be seeing a lot more of each other, Catina, throughout these coming years, especially now that I’ve seen you with my own two eyes.”

            “Oh goodie.”

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THE MONSTER DOWN THE STREET

4/11/2015

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If you like Monster Down the Street, this book features 27 additional prize-winning stories. Click to send an email for purchase.

We walked by the house probably three or four times a day, slowing our pace to glance in through the windows and gaze longingly at the old, rusty swing set. The place looked vacant, like someone hadn’t lived there for a hundred years. Weeds that nearly reached our bellies filled the small yard, and the once gravel driveway was lost in crab grass. Sycamore trees given too much freedom branched out over the house, shading it from the sunlight and adding to its already scariness.

            We never saw any lights on or anyone come and go. We never saw a moving shadow when the sun was setting low and shone light into the two front windows, but from talk in the schoolyard during fourth grade recess, someone lived there, but who?

            “Can’t be human,” my best friend Carrie whispered. We were standing in front of the old, yellowing house, as we did often.

            “No, definitely not,” I agreed.

            “What do you think it is?” she asked.

            “I don’t know.” I kept my eyes fixed on the broken screen door. Hanging from only one rusty hinge, it creaked as the cool breeze pushed it back and forth, back and forth. “Someone that lives in the dark,” I said.

            “With eyes that glow like flashlights.”

            “All alone.”

            “Doesn’t need to leave the house to go grocery shopping because it eats spiders and beetles and bugs.”

            “Just gobbles them up with no teeth.”

            “Except for two fangs to pin them down and suck their blood.”

            “It crawls around on its four claws.”

            “With long, sharp, green nails.”

            “Bloodstains on the tips.”

            “And it’s hairy, like a bear, like a . . . a . . . monster!” Carrie said, reaching for my hand.

            BANG! The broken screen door burst open and slammed into the porch railing. We scampered off squealing like pigs in trouble.

            Summer came round, meaning an extra eight hours of playtime every day. We tried to keep ourselves busy doing other things, like playing countless games of basketball, kickball, and baseball, and zooming through the Deer Run trailer part streets on our bicycles, but something kept us going back to the house everyday. The ground had become a raw brown from where we always stood, fifty feet away from the answers to our constant, quiet questions.

            Maybe it was harmless curiosity, or the fact that neither Carrie or I had a swing set, or maybe it was simply knowing that we didn’t know everything that led us to do what no kid had ever dared to do before. All I know is I’ll never forget the events that followed once we knocked on that old, wooden door.

            It was another boring day in Central Square, New York. I’d awaked to dark clouds and depressing rain, spent the morning reading, the noon hour dozing in front of the television, and the early afternoon staring out the window and loudly moaning my boredom.

            “Joann, why don’t you call Carrie and see what she’s doing?” Mom suggested. I think she just wanted me to stop whining about being so bored.

            Ten minutes later, I was out the door and walking to my best friend’s house. The sky was still dark, and the breeze was moist and cold, but the rain had stopped for now.

            “So, what do you want to do?” she asked.

            I shrugged. “I don’t know.” We sat on the porch steps, licking our berry popsicles in silence. “Do you think maybe it’s lonely?” I asked suddenly.

            “What?”

            “The monster. It sits in that house all day in the dark all alone. Maybe it just needs a friend,” I said.

            “Yea, to eat for dinner.” Carrie laughed.

            “Let’s go see if we can see it through the window.”

            “But we never do,” she whined.

            And there we were, once again, gawking at the house, wondering the same things.

            I gasped. “Look, Carrie, a light.” A dim light shone through one of the small windows, but the window was too high for us to get a good looking at the inside of the house.

            “Boy, those swings look like awful fun,” Carrie said. “It’s too wet out to play kickball, and if we ride our bikes, we’ll get muddy. If only we could just swing on those swings. We’d never be bored again.”

            “I’m going to go ask it if we can play on its swings,” I said. My fear was great, but my curiosity and boredom were greater.

            “What? You’re . . . you’re crazy!” she whispered fearfully. “You’ll get kidnapped and . . . and eaten. You’ll be killed. Remember what Tommy Thompson said, Joann? Anyone who goes up those steps never comes back. Tommy’s in the sixth grade, so he knows,” she warned me.

            I started for the yard.

            “Joann!” she cried.

            “Carrie, if it hates children so much, why does it have a swing set?” I tried to reason with her.

            “To get kids to come into his yard to eat them, just like robbers use candy to kidnap kids,” she answered.

            I paused halfway through the tall, sticky weeds. I was having second thoughts, thinking that maybe this wasn’t such a grand idea after all. No, I’d gotten this far. I was in the middle of a mission and I was not a quitter.

            “Or maybe he just wants a friend, but everyone else is too much of a scaredy pants to knock on the door,” I said.

            “I’m not scared,” she said.

            I challenged her. “Yes, you are.”

            “No, I’m not. I’ll knock on that door myself.” Carrie stubbornly tramped through the lawn, pausing beside me.

            We tiptoed toward the house, hearts pounding and bodies shaking. We grasped for one another’s hand and started up the creaky steps.

            “We both will,” she said. We lifted our trembling fists and softly knocked on the paint-chipped door.

            We heard something! SQUEAK! SQUEAK! The doorknob rattled as it turned. The door groaned as it slowly . . . slowly . . . opened.

            We were ready to bolt like lightning, maybe even faster than that. I couldn’t move my eyes from the door.

            . . . Slowly . . . Slowly . . . “AAAAAAH!” we shrieked.

            “Wait, you’re not a monster,” I said.

            “Did you think I was a monster?” The old, bald man with the bright blue eyes smiled at us.

            “Everyone does. We thought you were a big, hairy monster that ate children, not an old Grandpa,” Carrie admitted.

            I elbowed her. “Carrie!”

            “Well, I do like children for dinner,” he said.

            “Really?” My eyes got wide in fright.

            “Well of course. There’s nothing like having company to help me eat all my food,” he told us.

            My shoulders fell in relief. For a moment I’d thought he was really going to eat us.

            “We don’t like bugs,” Carrie said.

            He laughed, coughed real hard, and then turned serious. “You human beings don’t like bugs?” he teased.

            “Yuck!” We stuck our tongues out.

            “What about dirt? You like to eat dirt?”

            “Gross!” we shouted.

            “Hmm! Well, I do have some chocolate chip cookies fresh out of the oven, but I don’t think –”

            “Yeeeaah!” we screamed excited.

            “Why don’t you ever leave the house?” Carrie asked him.

            “I can’t get around like I use to,” he said, nodding his head down toward his wheelchair. That’s why we could never see him through the windows.

            He rolled into the kitchen and every time the left wheel went round, it squeaked.

            “Why don’t you ever have any lights on?” I asked, looking around the dark house. The kitchen light was on, but it wasn’t very bright.

            “I’m an old man. It hurts my eyes.”

            After filling up on cookies and milk and promising to eat dinner when we got home, we ran out to finally play on the swing set. It was old and rusty and the chains whined a whole lot, but it didn’t matter to us. Flying through the air, kicking our feet out, leaning forward, and jumping into the fluffy weeds, there wasn’t a better feeling in the entire world.

            We still wondered why an old man would have a swing set. Then he told us it had once been his daughter’s and that she and his wife were now in heaven with God to watch over them.

            Everyday that summer, we went to the house. We would help him clean and keep him company and he would always have some kind of delicious treat for us to munch on. Kids walking by and riding by on their bicycles would stare at us and quietly warn us about waking the monster. We never told them there was no monster, only a nice, old man who couldn’t get around much. Heck if we were going to share our goodies and swing!

            Then one day at the end of summer, he sat us down at his small, wooden table and said, “I’m going away soon, girls.”

            “Where are you going?” I asked with my mouth full of apple.

            “I miss my wife and daughter. It’s time I go where they are.” He smiled softly.

            “In heaven?” I asked. He nodded his head.

            “Can we come? We’d like to meet your wife and daughter, Mr. Mead.”

            He laughed. “That’s very sweet of you, little Carrie, but you won’t see them or me, again, for many, many years. Now, I just want to thank you girls for giving me peace and happiness these past couple months. Before you ladies came along, I was very sad and lonely. You gave back to me what I’d lost years ago when my two precious loves died, my wife and daughter.”

            “What else had you lost that we could help you find?” Carrie asked.

            He smiled real big.

            “There’s still no teeth in there, Mr. Mead. We didn’t find any either,” Carrie said.

            He laughed real hard, and then he coughed real hard.

            “My smile. You helped me find my smile,” he said. “Even though I’ll be gone, the swing set is yours to play with whenever you want.”

            “Thank you,” we said, but we didn’t really understand.

            He kissed our foreheads and sent us off to play on the beloved swing set.

            We never did see Mr. Mead again, but we’ll never forget him. His swing set kept us busy and having fun on what otherwise would have been boring days, and no one could make chocolate chip cookies like he had made.

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THE SCHOOLHOUSE KIDS

THE MODULES SAMPLE CHAPTER

The Reform Sample Chapter

THE MONSTER DOWN THE STREET

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