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Spinning for Hours
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by Seaoknarnar
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Chapter 10: Two Letters
It was quite late when I got home. So late, in fact, that it was quite early. Our living room clock read 2:13 am.
I had been at a Christmas Eve party at Anna's house, and our entire class had been there. And unfortunately, her parents had been there, so our activities were limited to the more conventional ones, like watching Christmas movies, stuffing our faces on red-and-green snack foods, and gossiping about people at school.
Another of our activities had been Secret Snowman (a nondenominational version of Secret Santa). I had gotten Sandy, a junior, a pretty photo album and a large, scented candle. You know, nice, impersonal gifts, considering that I didn't know her very well. Steven, a senior, had gotten me an awesome sun-and-moon necklace, and though I don't generally wear too much jewelry, I had to admit that it was a perfect necklace for me.
Lee and Anna had 'suspiciously' been each others' Secret Snowmen. He had gotten her a very pretty, and very expensive looking, bracelet. When her parents were in another room, she revealed her gift for him, a thong, which had raised a laugh from everyone. But after her real present, a nice wallet, the two had shared a kiss that had made even me a bit jealous. I had been thinking about the sophmore sitting on the ottoman, joking with his friends.
Now it was 2:13, but I was still wide awake from drinking lots of highly caffeinated soda, and eating red-and-green Dixie Stix. And of course, I had that natural high that comes from being with a group of really close friends for a few hours and having a blast with them.
For the longest time, I didn't know what that feeling felt like. The most similar experience I can think of is back when we were a family of five, and had just escaped from some harrowing adventure or another. Those gave me a good kind of high, being safe at last with my family close by.
But of course, we ceased to be a family, and I was not the most popular girl in school. I had forgotten what it felt like to be with a bunch of people who cared for you deeply, and understood you, and made you feel at home.
I had missed the home feeling for too long.
Thinking about my family, I looked over to the two letters on the kitchen table. I had been saving them for Christmas. (Yes, I know that I'm a Buddhist, but I had celebrated the Christmas tradition most of my life. It was a hard habit to break.) One was from Homer, I could see from the messy, crooked printing. The other was either from Marge or from Bart. Considering the numerous letters from Marge that I haven't bothered to reply to, I don't think she'd be likely to write any more to her ingrate older daughter.
Well, Lisa, technically it is Christmas. And since you know that Santa's not going to be bringing anymore presents, why not open the letters now?
I turned on the kitchen light, and got out the letter opener. Which letter should I open first?
I decided on Homer's letter first. It was rather thick, and once I opened it, I knew why. A bunch of twenty dollar bills fell out onto the table, with a note. Merry Christmas, Sweetie, or whatever it is you celebrate in that crazy religion of yours. Love, Daddy.
It was a thoughtful gesture from Homer, but quite unnecessary, seeing as how I was the one who managed the family bank account. I could have taken all the money I wanted. But I did appreciate the somewhat-thoughtful gesture from Homer.
A letter accompanied the wad of cash. This is what I was really looking forward to, because I hadn't called Homer in a month, and he hadn't called me, and I was starting to miss him.
Dear Lisa,
Hello Sweetie! Hopefully everything is going well at home. I sure wish you had come with me to Canada, because I miss my little girl.
This made me smile, and I could feel tears in my eyes at this unusual tenderness Homer was showing.
Everything is going well here. My job is good, and Lennie and Carl say hi. And guess what! I went on a Canadian game show, and they bet me that I couldn't eat 20 pounds of Maple Syrup, and I did, and they gave me a luggage set!
Mr. Burns promoted me again, so you should be seeing more money in the old bank for us! Take what you need, and hopefully my Christmas present will help you too.
Actually, besides wishing you a Merry…Buddha thingy…I wrote because I have some rather important news I needed to share with you. Back in September, I had told you that I would be in Canada for five months. I was supposed to be back around the end of January.
Unfortunately, I'm going to have to stay in Canada for more time than I thought. I have business that I didn't finish up in the time they gave me, and I don't know how much longer I'm going to be up here.
I hope you aren't too sad at this news. I assume stuff has been going well for you, because you haven't told me otherwise. You know that if you ever need to talk to me, you can call, and I won't care that it's a long distance call or anything like that. I'm only a telephone number away.
You remember, a long time ago, when you used to stay with me at work when I had to work late? I was thinking about that while on one of my late-night shifts. Are you sure you don't want to come up to Canada? There's a school near where I live, and there're some kids your age. They have green hair and pierced eyebrows. You like those kinds of things, right? They offered to sell me some colorful candies with cartoon characters on them, but I was drinking Skittlebrew and turned them down.
Candy. Poor, naïve Homer…
Anywho, I have to get to work. My boss will be mad if I'm late. I hope this letter reaches you in time for Christmas (or whatever your holiday is). Merry Christmas, Sweetheart, and don't forget to call every now and then.
Love,
Daddy
I wiped some tears from my eyes. It was nice to hear from my dad again, and after four months alone at home, I was missing him. But now, with this news of his about staying in Canada even longer than he had expected, I heaved a sigh. I suppose I was in for some more time alone, much to my disappointment.
My eyes turned to the other letter, with hopes that it would cheer me up. It was quite beat-up looking, and there were some mysterious stains on the envelope. But looking at the handwriting, I could tell, despite the lack of return address, that it was a letter from Bart, from inside the Juvenile Correction Center he was incarcerated at.
I believe I mentioned earlier that Bart was away at juvie hall. He had been found breaking and entering, and possessing illegal firearms, and on top of his past delinquent record, it was enough to put him away for quite a while. Every now and then, he would send me letters, but they were always heavily censored by the juvie screeners, so he never actually got to tell me what he wanted to tell me. His absence from the house made it feel all the more unusually quiet, as it had been feeling recently.
I cut open the envelope, and pulled out the letter, which was written on a dingy piece of crumpled paper.
Dear Lis,
Well, how's my younger sis? Everything going ok? That boyfriend of yours, that punk Todd, is he treating you well?
I had to role my eyes at this. Bart never understood, nor respected, my friendship with Tommy. Bart and Homer were not too fond of the Flanderses.
How's Homer? Still butt-kissing Mr. Burns? And any word from Marge or Maggie? Shit, I know how you feel about them. I feel the same way. But who knows.
I managed to 'convince' a guy who had connections to get this letter out to you. He had a person who was smuggling him stuff, and so I threatened to beat him unless he got this letter smuggled out to you. Take that, damn screeners!
I must admit, Lis, that around this place I am somewhat of a king. It helps that most of the guys are younger and smaller than I am. And I've been spending months turning that infamous Simpson fat into pure muscle, baby! I can beat up practically anyone here, and around here, strength speaks louder than words.
But Lis, I've been hearing discussion lately that, I'll admit, scares me. I have ears all over this complex, and they've been telling me that They (our ever-watchful cruel overseers) have been complaining about the crowded state of this place. They've been thinking about transferring some of us older guys to the State Prison.
Lis, I may be King of Juvie, but the state prison!? That's where they have the murderers, rapists, thieves, drug lords, serial killers, homicidal maniacs, and other complete sickos! Do you know what they'd do to a guy like me? Sure, my strength may be superior in juvie, but they have guys in the prison that make Rainier Wolfcastle look like Cinderella (in strength and in beauty). They say that there are only three ways to survive prison for an extended period of time.
1) Become a guy with muscle that can beat up anyone else.
2) Become the 'love child' of a guy with muscle, and use him to keep the others away while he uses you for 'other things'. (In NO WAY do I want to do this!!!)
3) Become devoutly, devoutly, religious. (This is even more unlikely, considering who I am.)
I'm sorry if I'm ruining your holidays, but I need to get you to understand why it is I'm doing the things I do. I've been seriously, seriously considering running away, and going on the lamb. I WILL NOT wait around to be shipped off to prison, and they're not sending me there without a fight!
I'm sorry if I'm disappointing you with my plans of escape, but I hope you'll understand. You're my best friend Lis, more than Milhouse or anyone could ever be. Wish me luck, even if you think I'm doing the wrong thing.
Happy holidays. Love, your brother,
Bart
I had to wipe some more tears from my eyes. No, Bart, I thought. I think you're doing the right thing, and I wish you luck with your escape, and hope you end up somewhere good.
I looked down at the two letters on the table, and wondered what had happened to our once-happy family. I thought back to the old days, when Marge would be baking brownies, and Homer would be out back in the hammock, and Bart, Maggie, and I would be watching TV. I thought of all the time we had in the past to enjoy our good life, and always took it for granted that everything would always stay the same.
But that was before Marge and Maggie ran away to Europe. Before Bart got sent to the Juvenile Center. Before Homer became a work-a-holic, and went off to Canada. Our family, once so close in everything we did, was now spread out across the wide, cruel world.
Well, I decided, no more taking things for granted. No more idealistic waiting around for things to get better than they already are. Time to take some action.
I got the school directory, which was lying on the table. I quickly flipped to the 'M's, looking up the name of a certain someone I had been meaning to talk to for a long time already. I located his telephone number, and reached out to the phone hanging on the wall.
Then my senses came back to me. It was nearly 3 in the morning on Christmas Day, which was hardly a reasonable time to call someone. And once I did call, what was I going to say? I better think this out before I do anything stupid.
Well, I was going to have to wait to call Theo, but since my brain was buzzing anyway from being up too late, and I could feel a migraine coming on, I decided it would be wise to go to bed.
My dream that night was rather unsettling. Perhaps it was the result of soda and Dixie Stix, but whatever it was, it left me feeling majorly creeped out.
I was dressed in 1600s colonial costume, as was the rest of my class. We were at a trial, and I was being poked and prodded by everyone. For some reason, Tommy was there, and he stood up, pointed a finger at me, and said, "WITCH!" I said to him, "How could you do this to me? I'm your friend!" Blood started to drip from his mouth, and cuts opened up on his arms and face. He wailed a terrible, bone-chilling wail.
Then everyone else stood up, and said, "Witch! Witch! Burn the witch!" They tied me to a stake, and set me in the middle of the town. On a stake next to mine, Theo was also tied up and about to be burned. I asked him, "Will I ever see you again?"
He replied. "Yes. We'll meet up in the underworld, with Glinda and all the other good witches who were only trying to do the right thing."
I don't know if I was burned or not, because at that point I woke up, tangled in sweaty, twisted sheets. Perspiration fell from my brow as, outside, snow fell gently for the first white Christmas in many years.
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July 15, 2004
Important: Very, very soon now, I am planning to change my pen name. My new pen name will be Sir Mocha, so look for this story under that name. Got it? Good.
Ah, sorry about the shortness of the chapter. But the other night, I stayed up until 3 in the morning, writing out the plot for the rest of the story. Yes, an actual plot that will begin very shortly! I need a few filler chapters beforehand to set up the plot, and this is one of them. AA I love foreshadowing…
As of right now, this story has three potential endings.
1) A happy, happy ending. (Makes you feel warm and fuzzy.)
2) A sad, tragic ending. (But very appropriate.)
3) A satisfying, but wide open, ending that will, ultimately, lead to a sequel.
I was just wondering what kind of ending you all are looking for. Though it'll be my decision in the end, I'd like to have some input from you, the reader.
I have an idea in my mind for a sequel, but my updating on this story has been so abysmal, I don't know if it'd be a good idea to drag it on into another story. And there are still a bunch of chapters to this one. I guess we'll see, won't we? But if I do a sequel, it's going to be from the POV of a much-neglected character, and in my opinion, one of the coolest. But no more about that now.
BIG THANK YOU to everyone who reviewed! With 100 reviews, you guys make me feel so special! Even flamers make me happy that they took the time to voice their opinions about this story. Not that I enjoy getting flames, but I guess they're better than nothing. (The best flames are the ones so poorly written that they make me laugh.)
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