The Summer of L & D
(Full Title: The Summer of Life and Death)
CHAPTER ONE
Arthur looked over his summer reading list with contempt. Brain was helping him with some of the harder novels, but thanks to NASA Space Camp, he was unable to give more than a few answers to very specific questions. Arthur only had "questions that [were] far too complicated for [Brain] to answer." All he wanted to know was how the book ended so he wouldn't have to read the darn thing.
His computer beeped: There was an incoming video call from Francine.
"Hey, baby. You still trying to crack those books? Just buy the cliff notes. It's what everyone's doing," Francine smirked, rolling her eyes. Arthur sighed at her: How many times would he have to explain to her that he didn't have the money for that if she always wanted to go places. "Guess what, angel? I got a new swim suit this morning. You won't believe how big it makes my breasts look."
Arthur's face gave away the sudden boner he'd just achieved. Francine giggled, stepping back from the computer screen, giving Arthur a full view.
"So, what do you think?" Francine asked seductively, turning to show her voluptuous profile. Arthur smiled, winking at her. "Go ahead. I wanted you to this time. Just no more Japanese school girl uniforms, 'kay?"
Arthur moved his hands towards his belt. Francine began doing some moves for him as he unzipped. He was sitting just so that she couldn't see his movements as he began to masturbate.
"ARTHUR! LUNCH!"
"She is such a buzz kill," Francine scoffed. "Hurry up and finish, you bad, bad boy. Mommy'll spank your sweet ass if you don't."
Arthur sighed with content, and Francine smiled flirtatiously.
"See you tonight, babe," she grinned, turning off her camera.
"I'M GOING TO THE BATHROOM FIRST!" Arthur yelled downstairs. His mother didn't respond, and Arthur hoped she heard him over the sound of DW's blaring television show and Kate's endless chatter. Arthur almost forgot how annoying it was to have an elementary-schooler in the house, then Kate grew into that stage. He sighed heavily, wondering how many more years of this hell hole he'd have to take.
Muffy was lounging on a pool raft, floating around the wave pool while sunbathing, a tabloid in her perfectly cared-for hands. She turned the page, oohing at the latest fashions from New York for the summer season. She made a mental note of her favorites, hoping that he daddy would pay for it all. He hadn't lived in the estate in seven years thanks to a little mistress drama, but Muffy could still get whatever she wanted with a simple phone call.
Besides, it's not like her mother was so innocent herself. The Latin pool boy was a prime example of male beauty, his perfectly-toned abs glimmering in the hot sun. Muffy often took pictures of him "because he wore the best swim trunks," but they were really for her mother. Muffy was into the Prince Charming types, the men who could take care of her, not the men who were paid to take care of her. But her parents had taught her there was no happily ever after, especially when affairs were involved.
"Baily, could you refill my lemonade?" Muffy said into her phone. It had a special feature that allowed her to use it as a walkie-talkie, and she used it often. Baily was perfectly aware of this: The drink arrived soon after, along with more sun screen.
"Your mother requested you use some of this, Miss. Should I get Carlos to apply it?" Baily questioned. Muffy scoffed to herself: That bitch was always trying to ruin her fun.
"I think I'll go inside now. Do you mind hiding my sunglasses in the bushes? They have a camera in them, and Mom wants more video of him," Muffy said loudly, her voice echoing across the pool. Carlos definitely heard her as he cleaned the marble surfaces with a soft rag. A smile was on his face, and Muffy rolled her eyes with discontent.
Baily did as he was asked, though he really didn't want to get involved with this horrid behavior. He'd much rather be shopping with Muffy or providing more beverages, not participating in adultery and stalking.
As Muffy reentered the estate, she passed by a wall of her portraits that dated to her birth. She was a cute baby, she thought, stopping to admire the picture. 'I looked good as a toddler too,' she smirked, moving to ages two, three, and four.
She skipped the rest, scoffing at her horrid hair, always in those disgusting pigtails. She wore it in the New York styles, sometimes the Parisian styles if she was feeling exotic.
But the photos brought back the memories of her past, the days when she and her classmates were close friends. Those days were over.
In fifth grade, Muffy caught Sue Ellen and Mr. Ridgeway, their teacher, in a strange position, one that looked like the two were kissing. She made a big fuss, which caused them to lose the beloved Mr. Ridgeway due to the charges her words brought on. Sue Ellen never spoke to her again.
In sixth and seventh grade, Muffy made it her mission to make Fern look appealing. An older classmate liked her, but not as she was...or so Muffy thought. The two ended up going out, and when they discovered Muffy's interference that had lasted over the course of the two school years, including the summer between, they tried to humiliate her. It didn't really work, but the two never spoke to Muffy again. He moved away the next summer, and Fern hadn't had another boyfriend since. She didn't even have any friends, and Muffy wondered if she was the real cause.
In eighth grade, Francine, who had already grown distant from her, began going out with Arthur, who hated Muffy after what he did to Sue Ellen (they went out for a while too in seventh grade, just before spring break. Sue Ellen went to South America during the break and caught a parasite. She didn't return to school for the rest of the year, and Arthur moved on during this time). The two became inseparable and were still dating despite the summer break: Muffy couldn't leave her house after dinner hours because she'd see them no matter where she went. The two hated her now, especially when Muffy suggested she doll up some more to keep Arthur in her grips. Both turned on her, and neither had even looked at her since that time.
Binky didn't like her because she rejected his advances in sixth grade. She really did like him, but her mother and father refused, calling him a "fat oaf who was just after her money." She wanted to apologize to him, but he'd been kept back a few times and suspended just as much for his involvement in fights. She rarely saw him anymore, especially since she rarely left the estate.
The only people that ever talked to her were the girls of Oakwood Academy. She would be going there in the fall, and she'd be living on the lavish campus. It would be the life she always dreamed of, and she couldn't wait. She already had a few good friends thanks to the internet, and she already had her outfits picked out for months in advance.
"Who cares about this stupid place? I'll be a queen where I'm going!" Muffy said to herself, sinking into a soft armchair in her bedroom. She began using her smart phone to talk to her friends, losing herself in the continuous messaging, the sun sinking lower and lower behind her until it went away completely, welcoming the night.
George sighed heavily. The ventriloquism camp was a good use of his parent's money, and he and Wally were quite happy with themselves. But the volleyball camp next door, specifically the GIRLS volleyball camp next door, was not such a good thing. During their free hours, they sat up on their hillside, looking down on the ventriloquists and making jokes. George and his large antlers made him an easy target, and it didn't help that he'd just rolled down a hill, breaking his arm and Wally in the process.
"Cheer up, George. They don't know a good man when they see one," Wally said. George shook his head softly, turning away. He'd doubted his abilities before: Being the boy with the dummy made him a target of bullies all through middle school. But now it was different: If he couldn't fit in with his own people, maybe he should just give up entirely.
The nurse came back with more of the fabric-like material that would make up his cast. All they had was pink, yet another insult the world was throwing at the boy. It didn't help that he was already in physical pain, now it had to be emotional pain as well.
"Hey, kiddo! You ready to head back to camp?" Ranger Dave said. Ranger Dave was the dummy of Ranger Steve, the director of the camp. He was George's only friend right now, it seemed: He was the only one who wasn't laughing during his accident. He was the only one to help.
"I think I want to go home," George said sternly, turning away to hide the tears in his eyes, both from his emotions and the pain of the nurse pulling the gauze around his arm.
"Look, I know it's not easy being yourself sometimes. I've spent many nights in your position, and though it's hard, I got through it," Ranger Steve smiled. George sighed heavily.
"How long did that take?" George asked. He was serious, wanting to hear a good answer. Ranger Steve couldn't say the truth: He'd had a dummy since second grade, and that same dummy gave him fifteen black eyes, a few cracked ribs during his school years (counting college), and divorce papers and alimony checks during the current era.
"It seemed to take forever, George, but it only feels that way on the inside," he smiled. "Come on, one more week. Parents Day is coming up, and you need to perform your routine. And Wally, we've got a good doctor waiting for you back home," Ranger Dave said. Ranger Steve peeked out from behind him, and George smiled.
"Okay, but I'm leaving with them," George said sternly.
"Whatever you say, kid," Ranger Steve grinned.
"Hurry up, nurse! We've got a van to catch!" Ranger Dave exclaimed. The nurse giggled, and Ranger Steve noticed a distinct twinkle in her eye. He slipped his number to her before he left. Maybe his first wife was just the spawn of her Satanic mother. Maybe there was someone out there for him.
The nurse never called him back. She threw the number away during the same shift, careful to show it to her friends first.
"Loser," she spat, tossing it into the bin and walking away.
"Mom, I can't wear that! It's insulting!" Sue Ellen exclaimed, pushing away the Swedish outfit her mother presented to her. "I'm going to be my American self while I'm there. It's what they expect."
"I was just trying to help, sweetie. Let's not fight: You're only here two more days," she smiled.
"You're right. Just stop trying to fix my wardrobe. I've already discussed it with my new classmates: They want to see the real me, and they promised I won't look silly. The modern Swedish woman would never wear something as hideous as that."
"It's not hideous!" her mother grinned, seeing Sue Ellen's smile. "But I guess to the new generations it isn't very appealing. I'll keep it in the closet for you, just in case. Now, let's head off to the stationery store for some paper. You better write to us every day!"
"I know, I know! It'll keep my English in check too, though Brain wants me to write him in Swedish. He's going to take an online course when he gets back from NASA camp. Wouldn't it be so cool to reach zero gravity?"
"I guess. I don't really know what that is," she lied. Sue Ellen scoffed at her, taking the keys from her. They were immediately snatched back. "You have another year, young lady. And when did you talk to Brain? If he's at camp, shouldn't he be doing camp things?"
"They have the internet, Mom! You're so naïve!" Sue Ellen grinned, accepting the passenger seat and its many air conditioning vents. It was a sweltering summer, and her mom had wet stains under her arms. Sue Ellen grimaced, turning her head to keep her from seeing.
"So who else is he talking to?"
"Arthur has been getting reading help, but Brain told him just to read the book. They are quite good: I got the reading list even though they know I'm not going this year. Hopefully they won't think I'm truant and arrest you," Sue Ellen giggled.
"Oh, hush! I've got papers on you, you know! Who else?"
"He's trying to show interest in Fern-you remember her right?- and her writing. She's been doing a hundred thousand words a month for the last year, all for some contest. She's already got publishers after her, he says. But she doesn't talk much: She just emails him edited drafts. She's very secretive with her writing."
"Many people are. Your classmates might've insulted her writing before. Maybe it's her way of protecting herself."
"I never insulted her. I rather like her writing, actually. She does it so effortlessly; I'm jealous!"
They entered the stationery store, and Sue Ellen blushed quietly. Fern was reading a book while grabbing up all of the notebooks they had. She went to the counter without poking her eyes up from the pages. Sue Ellen noticed it was a writing book. She left her mom to go talk to her.
"Hey, Fern. Why are you reading that? I thought you were amazing!" Sue Ellen exclaimed, a wide smile on her face. Fern didn't look up.
"Everyone needs to improve, Sue Ellen. Thank you," she said to the cashier, and she walked to the exit, nearly running into an elderly woman shopping for cardstock. She said something to the friend that was with her, but Sue Ellen didn't hear it: She was joining her mother in the stationery aisle.
It was an ordeal to shop with her mother, but it ended soon enough. But Sue Ellen couldn't remember what they'd picked even once they reached the cashier: Her mind was on Fern, and the thoughts wouldn't subside.
Buster went to the hotel desk to pick up his mail. He'd been staying there since they landed in Newark, and their mail had been forwarded by the airline. Most of it was junk, but a magazine for Food Weekly was in the box. A letter from his mother was there too.
Bitsy had married Grover Buckley, an intern at the paper. The relationship ended her job and forced her to take up freelance journalism, though it wasn't hard to work from Grover's lovely midsized house. Buster had stayed there while he was in sixth and seventh grade, battling through the endless arguments with Grover, and with Bitsy. She just wouldn't believe Buster when he told her that his bruises were caused from Grover, injuries that always happened while she was out, injuries with no witnesses.
So Buster went on his usual summer trip with his dad, packing all of his things like usual. Except he wouldn't go back, not while she was with that bastard.
He smiled to the maids as he placed the main neatly on his father's desk. He'd get it in two days: He was flying to Cairo, New Delhi, and Moscow before heading back to Los Angeles and eventually Newark. He'd be exhausted when he got back, but it was the price of the modern airline pilot.
A comedic cartoon blared from the television. Buster looked over and saw Bionic Bunny: The New Chapters playing. He smiled reminiscently before turning it to his new love, Barry Spring. The fighting couples, or former couples, made him think of his mother: Maybe she'll leave the bastard, or come on here to dump him for the maid. They didn't have a maid, but it was Buster's current favorite story. The last was that he'd dump her for his step-brother, but that quickly faded when the step-brother died from colon cancer. If it weren't for teenage angst, he would've felt bad for the fucker, but even now, the emotions of guilt and regret never came.
He flipped through his magazine, looking up occasionally to see what was going on in the show. It wasn't very interesting today: Tranny fights and one-night stands with women who are really men didn't interest him very much. He looked back to his magazine, fantasizing about the different dishes. He thought of ordering room service, but the bill was already too high. He decided to go to the streets and look for a vendor, but it was a holiday: Memorial Day. The street vendors would be at the parks, especially the ones where fireworks would be tonight. Buster sighed heavily, going for a McDoodles burger instead. It only cost a dollar, and it put a dent in his never-ended stomach.
'I wish I had someone to talk to,' he thought, remembering the days when he and Arthur were inseparable, especially in the summer when they'd often spend the night at each other's houses, only separating to go to the bathroom or for Arthur to deal with his little sisters. He wondered what they looked like now, especially Kate, who was growing like a weed. He thought of writing Arthur for old time's sake, but then he remembered their last letter: He was dating Francine.
Francine and Buster weren't real enemies until seventh grade when the Geography Bee put them at a tie for first. Francine was highly competitive, and she blamed him for cheating by writing on his arm. There was writing on his arm, but it was his dad's new email address and personnel code for the airline, which merged with another and changed its systems. No one believed him, and he was disqualified. She rubbed it in his face for weeks, and since she was always with Arthur, to avoid her she had to avoid him, not like it meant much for that: He wasn't sticking up for him like he used to.
No one was the same anymore, he realized. Francine had become not just a bitchy tomboy with a competitive streak but a bitchy bombshell, whose sports body had filled out into model-quality curves and beauty. She didn't age like her sister: She was a real knock-out. And she knew it too. Buster couldn't associate with her anymore, and if Arthur wasn't lusting after her, he would realize that himself.
Buster walked through the park, watching the children play. He remembered his elementary school days as the kids played new versions of old games. He sat on a bench to watch, trying desperately to shake the urge to contact his friends. He should've left and the feeling would have left with him, but instead he stayed until dark, letting the feeling grow stronger.
He composed an email to them when he got hope, thinking their addresses were the same while wondering if he really should send it. At ten o'clock, he hit send to Arthur's account as well as George's. George's responded with a vacation message: He'd get to it when he got back to ventriloquist camp. Arthur's came back a second later: His address wasn't valid, meaning he'd changed it or abandoned it, just like he'd abandoned Buster.
Buster slammed the keyboard's track into its holding area. Luckily he didn't break it, but he didn't care. 'Time for bed,' he snapped internally, angrily throwing on his pajamas and snuggling beneath the covers. The sound of fireworks helped him release his anger just enough to sleep.
Binky watched television from behind his sister. She had discovered the new Chinese channel, and she watched it constantly. Wrestling was still on his mind, and he wanted badly to watch it, but he hated making his little sister cry. He was missing a coverage special on wrestling at the moment, but he didn't want to make her move, not again.
"Do you mind?" she asked, turning around. Binky sighed, turning and sulking out to the yard.
Binky kicked a small ball around before realizing it was the neighbor's ball: They were notorious for hitting it over the fence while playing baseball. He threw it over, interrupting the book club meeting between his mother and the other neighbor mothers, including his own. He called over an apology, and the ladies turned away without a word: Their latest novel, Lust in Salt Lake, was all they ever talked about. Binky and his father were tired of hearing about it, but it was never mentioned in front of the younger kids. Binky yearned for those days again, but he knew they were long gone.
Binky checked his pocket and found two dollars. He went inside and asked if his sister wanted him to buy her an ice cream: He was going to the park to get one. She didn't even respond, so he left for the park.
He walked slowly, checking out the scenery. The town had changed a lot since his childhood: Molly her family had moved long ago thanks to a factory shutdown. In the place of the factory's workers came in the immigrants, all seeking work at the foreign company that moved in. While the town was now more culturally diverse, it was a lot more crowded, and several new subdivisions were built to house the new people. Six new schools were built, and thanks to his being held back in eighth grade, he'd be moving to a new middle school.
He contemplated quitting altogether, but he was one year too young.
School didn't come easily to Binky. Not only was his brain not made to hold the complex math problems and big words in textbooks and novels, but he couldn't keep his temper in check. He was almost expelled the past year when a bully at the elementary school began targeting his sister and her best friend Kate, Arthur's baby sister. He went to the school to beat up the little punk, but the school's security forces caught him first. They charged him with attempted assault, trespassing, and truancy because he wasn't at his own school. Binky held his ground, telling the board the truth. They allowed him to go back, but only because the new bullying policies hadn't been announced yet and Binky was acting on a good deed.
"But if we ever see you again, it's alternative school for you," the board's leader said sternly. His words still echoed in Binky's head. His principal had said the same thing at the end of the last school year. Now he'd have a different principal, and he hoped he was just as good as Principal Haney and Principal Sprocket, the middle school's principal. Both gave him more chances than he deserved, and Binky knew it.
The park was nearly empty due to the noon heat. Binky bought a cone and stopped to eat it on a park bench. He watched the neighborhood children ride their cool modern scooters through the park, scooters that worked like elliptical machines on wheels. Binky envied them: He missed his childhood already. The Sugar Bowl went out of business, his friends moved on, and no one seemed to notice him anymore except to pick a fight.
Binky knew deep down that he wasn't that horrible person that everyone made him out to be, but no one seemed to notice that side of him: The side that played in the band, that did ballet, that took part in plays…. All they saw was his size and tough-looking face, not the decent kid inside.
Binky dropped his cone on the bench, and he sighed heavily. Other boys his age would drop any number of curses, but Binky wasn't the type. He might say "hell" or "damn" on accident, but never for something that silly.
As he went to throw the ruined cone away and get some napkins to clean it up, someone tapped his shoulder. Binky turned to see the ice cream man, a fresh cone in his hand.
"You don't have to do that. I was almost done anyway," Binky said, shaking his head and pushing it away.
"No, you deserve it. At least take it with you. Someone at home must want it," the man smiled. Binky nodded, but he still didn't accept the treat.
"I need to wipe off the seat. Will you keep it in the freezer until I get done?" he asked. The man nodded, and sure enough, the cone was still there when he finished. He thanked him, saying how much his sister would enjoy it. The man smiled back: He was so happy to see such a kind young man.
Binky rushed home so the ice cream wouldn't melt. All his thoughts said was 'Someone noticed me!', and a wide smile was across his face. Passing pedestrians didn't move to the other side or walk on the grass to avoid him: The smiled back.
Binky knew what he had to do: He had to be happy and positive all the time, and people would finally see how good he was.
'Maybe the Crosswire's will finally-' he let the thought end. Muffy had rejected him long ago, and a simple change in his personality wouldn't change anything. He sighed heavily, but his smile soon returned.
"I got you a cone anyway," Binky called to his sister. She held out her hand, accepting the treat. "I knew you'd want it," he grinned. "You're welcome, Sis."
He almost went to his room, but instead he sat beside her.
"Are there English subtitles?" he asked.
"Of course not!" she grinned, a smirk on her face. "But I'll tell you what's going on 'kay?"
Binky accepted her offer.
His mother came home a few moments later, and she stood in the entryway to watch them, a large smile on her face.
'I did good,' she thought, moving to the kitchen to start dinner. They'd eat at the couch tonight, laughing at the Chinese programs, being a family together. 'We're so lucky…,' they would think. They were right.