Disclaimer: Same as before.
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Chapter 8.
Whack. Carl's shovel hit the ground, but didn't go in very far. He picked it up again. Whack. Same thing. Whack. Whack. Whack.
Would it ever do what it was supposed to?
The hours passed. Carl worked much slower then everyone else. After Mr. Pendanski came through with the water truck, everyone slowly began to leave. Carl pushed himself. He would not be left alone here.
Finally, Carl was the last person there, and indeed they left him alone. His hole was five feet deep, but only four feet seven inches wide. It was just digging off the edges now. His only problem was that he couldn't reach the sides very well. Groaning, he picked up his shovel and made the effort.
"Need help?" A voice said behind him. Carl jumped, dropping the shovel that landed on his foot. Falling backwards, he looked up into the face of Jukebox. He jumped into the hole.
"Watch it there, little guy." Jukebox offered Carl a hand. Carl took it, and stood on his throbbing foot.
"Could you please help me? I need another six inches around the outside."
"No problem" Jukebox said casually. He picked up the disregarded shovel, and ran it around the side with such force he only needed to go around once.
"Thanks" Carl said. He then tried to get out of his hole, but found that he couldn't. Jukebox laughed, pulled himself out of the hole, and pulled Carl out the arms.
"Thanks" Carl said again.
"How does it feel to be the little guy around here?" Jukebox asked.
"It's odd. Do all first holes take that long?"
"Yes they do. I have to say, you are the first one to figure that out." They started to walk back toward camp.
"It's odd in what way?" Jukebox asked curiously.
"Well, you see at home, everyone I was friends with was my age. I had popularity, friends, grades, everything. But here I'm the little guy, and even though I've had that for the past couple of years, I miss the old days."
"I understand" Jukebox said, as they walked toward camp. The two of them were silent. Carl began to become lost in his own thoughts. What did his mom think? Did she worry about him? Was Mrs. Winter regretting the fact she didn't know didley-squat about her patients?
"Do you want to talk about what happened that day?" Jukebox asked, bringing Carl back to Camp Greenlake.
"What?" Carl asked, forgetting where he was for a second. "Sorry – I was in my own little world, can you repeat the question?"
"I asked if you wanted to talk about what happened the day you were arrested. You had a look of sadness on your face, I was wondering if you needed to talk." Jukebox said. Carl wondered for a second. "It really does help, you know, especially if you haven't yet."
Carl realized this was true. No one had bothered to listen to his full side of the story. At court, the only reason Mrs. Winter had had to resign was because the judge thought Carl looked "normal" enough to have good reason. His mother of course didn't listen, and there was no one else he could turn to. So Carl began from the beginning – from when his dad lost job right up until Mrs. Winter left him cold and lonely in his straightjacket. Jukebox made a very good listener. He never interrupted, and when Carl came to the end, put his arm around him.
"That's rough, kid. But you know, you do have all of us here, who, like you, had no where to go. Something happened to all of us along the way. You are not alone."
"What did you do?" Carl asked. He figured that Jukebox might also wanted to talk.
"I killed a man."
"What? Why? How? Who?" Jukebox laughed.
"Questions, kid. I like that. I had this girlfriend, see, and we were out at a party one night where everyone was drunk. Well, Alexa and I were no exceptions. So this classmate of mine carries of and rapes Alexa, and then killed her that night. I loved her. So when he came back to the party, his fly was open and he was covered in blood. I guessed what had happened, so I put some date rape in his drink and threw him out the window. I've been here ever since." Carl was dumbstruck.
"So – how long are you here for?" Carl asked, fearing he knew the answer.
"Life. It's close to bed time – come on. Lets go." He put his arm around Carl and walked toward the sunset.
Whack. Carl's shovel hit the ground, but didn't go in very far. He picked it up again. Whack. Same thing. Whack. Whack. Whack.
Would it ever do what it was supposed to?
The hours passed. Carl worked much slower then everyone else. After Mr. Pendanski came through with the water truck, everyone slowly began to leave. Carl pushed himself. He would not be left alone here.
Finally, Carl was the last person there, and indeed they left him alone. His hole was five feet deep, but only four feet seven inches wide. It was just digging off the edges now. His only problem was that he couldn't reach the sides very well. Groaning, he picked up his shovel and made the effort.
"Need help?" A voice said behind him. Carl jumped, dropping the shovel that landed on his foot. Falling backwards, he looked up into the face of Jukebox. He jumped into the hole.
"Watch it there, little guy." Jukebox offered Carl a hand. Carl took it, and stood on his throbbing foot.
"Could you please help me? I need another six inches around the outside."
"No problem" Jukebox said casually. He picked up the disregarded shovel, and ran it around the side with such force he only needed to go around once.
"Thanks" Carl said. He then tried to get out of his hole, but found that he couldn't. Jukebox laughed, pulled himself out of the hole, and pulled Carl out the arms.
"Thanks" Carl said again.
"How does it feel to be the little guy around here?" Jukebox asked.
"It's odd. Do all first holes take that long?"
"Yes they do. I have to say, you are the first one to figure that out." They started to walk back toward camp.
"It's odd in what way?" Jukebox asked curiously.
"Well, you see at home, everyone I was friends with was my age. I had popularity, friends, grades, everything. But here I'm the little guy, and even though I've had that for the past couple of years, I miss the old days."
"I understand" Jukebox said, as they walked toward camp. The two of them were silent. Carl began to become lost in his own thoughts. What did his mom think? Did she worry about him? Was Mrs. Winter regretting the fact she didn't know didley-squat about her patients?
"Do you want to talk about what happened that day?" Jukebox asked, bringing Carl back to Camp Greenlake.
"What?" Carl asked, forgetting where he was for a second. "Sorry – I was in my own little world, can you repeat the question?"
"I asked if you wanted to talk about what happened the day you were arrested. You had a look of sadness on your face, I was wondering if you needed to talk." Jukebox said. Carl wondered for a second. "It really does help, you know, especially if you haven't yet."
Carl realized this was true. No one had bothered to listen to his full side of the story. At court, the only reason Mrs. Winter had had to resign was because the judge thought Carl looked "normal" enough to have good reason. His mother of course didn't listen, and there was no one else he could turn to. So Carl began from the beginning – from when his dad lost job right up until Mrs. Winter left him cold and lonely in his straightjacket. Jukebox made a very good listener. He never interrupted, and when Carl came to the end, put his arm around him.
"That's rough, kid. But you know, you do have all of us here, who, like you, had no where to go. Something happened to all of us along the way. You are not alone."
"What did you do?" Carl asked. He figured that Jukebox might also wanted to talk.
"I killed a man."
"What? Why? How? Who?" Jukebox laughed.
"Questions, kid. I like that. I had this girlfriend, see, and we were out at a party one night where everyone was drunk. Well, Alexa and I were no exceptions. So this classmate of mine carries of and rapes Alexa, and then killed her that night. I loved her. So when he came back to the party, his fly was open and he was covered in blood. I guessed what had happened, so I put some date rape in his drink and threw him out the window. I've been here ever since." Carl was dumbstruck.
"So – how long are you here for?" Carl asked, fearing he knew the answer.
"Life. It's close to bed time – come on. Lets go." He put his arm around Carl and walked toward the sunset.