by Justin Swapp
Grandma and Grandpa Fith looked confused. “Sorry?” Charlotte said. “Social caterpillar?”
“Yes, sorry, that is to say, not yet a social butterfly.” He grinned broadly, assuming that would clarify things sufficiently. He was met with blank stares.
“She must pull her face out from behind her books and engage with people more, Mr. and Mrs. Fith. She needs to vary her activities and make friends. That said, there are many worse things she could be dealing with. She is a fine student. Just help her come out of her shell a bit.”
“Thank you,” their grandpa said. “We’ll give that some thought.”
“Now,” he said, turning to Marcus. “We have the matter of this gentleman here.”
“His name is Marcus,” Charlotte said. “I’m sure it’s on the paper there somewhere.”
Mr. Diddley let out a hearty guffaw and winked at their grandma. “This one has a sense of humor.”
“Marcus,” Mr. Diddley said, scratching his head, “if I recall from our last meeting, you were going to address your behavior issues. To be honest, I’m concerned about the lack of progress.” He addressed Marcus’s grandparents: “he still struggles concentrating in class and maintaining discipline in general. While his grades meet the minimum standards, it’s by a narrow margin. If he were to turn in his assignments on time, and actually complete them, he would have much higher scores. When he actually shows up to class he seems overly reliant on devices for entertainment.”
“Speaking of which,” interjected Marcus, “may I have my cell phone back please?”
“That’s up to your par—” Mr. Diddley corrected himself. “Grandparents.”
“I’ll take it,” Winston said, extending his hand, “and we’ll discuss the consequences of his behavior on his summer vacation.”
“But Gramps—” Marcus started.
“Later, Marcus,” his grandpa said.
“Good.” Mr. Diddley returned the phone. “Ellie is a great kid, and a wonderful student. She shouldn’t be hard to work with. She just needs a little social coaching, that’s all. Marcus, on the other hand, is quite social, albeit overly reliant on his gadgets, but he needs greater focus and discipline in order to stay productive and to complete his assignments.”
“Thank you for your candor, Mr. Diddley,” Charlotte said. “We will discuss this as a family and come up with a way to remedy the situation.”
“I hope so,” said Mr. Diddley, clapping a hand to each of his legs and pushing off. “I’ve got to meet with the other families now. I look forward to seeing the results of real progress next year.”
The Fiths stood up and each shook Mr. Diddley’s hand before he waddled off to meet with the next family.
Their grandpa sighed heavily and said: “Now children, I know this makes for a long night, but we need to visit theNevada State Hospital tonight.”
Charlotte smiled and put her arms around her husband. “Thanks for remembering, Winston.”
Ellie scowled at Marcus, but he didn’t make eye contact with her. Marcus looked at the ground, cursing under his breath. He had hoped they had forgotten.
“Come on, kids,” their grandpa said, pointing toward the exit. “You can cool off on the way.” He clapped his free hand on their backs one-by-one as they passed.
They navigated their way out of the classroom and through the school, then out into the parking lot where their old station wagon awaited them. Marcus was glad he wouldn’t see the school or his classmates again for a few months. He needed the time away.
Marcus sat in the back seat of the station wagon and slammed the door shut. No one said anything, but Marcus caught the disapproving look that his grandfather gave him in the rearview mirror as he started the car. It wasn’t uncommon for him or Ellie to act out a little whenever they started their drive to the Nevada State Hospital. It was usually Marcus, though. His grandpa’s look shut it down before it started.
The one thing that Marcus hated even more than parent-teacher meetings were their visits to Nevada State Hospital. No matter what they said, they couldn’t talk their grandparents out of it.
Their grandma and grandpa were pretty fair, and they could usually be negotiated with. Household chores like the dishes, or the trash, or even when homework had to be completed could be haggled, but for some reason this was different. They could even fake sick and their grandparents would not let them stay behind, so this time Marcus didn’t even try.
“Don’t work yourself up, Marcus,” Ellie whispered, “It only makes it worse. Maybe catch a nap on the way.”
“No sleep for you,” their grandma said, clicking her tongue. “We need to discuss how you’ll change your behavior. At this point, it’s a bit much.”
Marcus shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“Then I suggest you take the car ride and think about it,” their grandpa said. “This won’t go away until you fix it.”
“Maybe Caleb and Anabell can give you some suggestions,” Ellie said.
“Very funny,” Marcus said, looking out the window. “From what I’ve seen, Caleb and Anabell can’t do much of anything. May I have my phone back please?”
His grandpa hesitated a moment, then reached into his shirt pocket and removed the phone. “Think about it,” he said, and then handed the phone over.
Marcus reached into his pant’s pocket, pulled out his ear buds, and plugged them into his phone. With a couple of thumb flicks he was listening to his favorite background music. He leaned his head against the car window and closed his eyes, trying to think of anything but the hospital.
2
Mental
The silence woke Marcus sometime later. He lifted his phone and pushed the power button, revealing the red battery icon. The device shut itself off. He sat up, cranky, and yanked the cables from his sore ears. At that moment he remembered where they were going and wished he could disappear.
Next to him, Ellie’s head hung over her book, bobbing slightly. A drip of drool was starting to form on her lower lip. Apparently she didn’t last long. Their grandma didn’t, either. She softly snored in the front passenger seat.
“Feeling any better?” Marcus saw his grandpa’s green eyes in the rearview mirror. They were the only ones awake.
Marcus grunted and leaned his head against the cold window again. “How much longer?”
“The drive wasn’t that long,” his grandpa said. ”Don’t worry, you slept through most of the trip. Maybe five more minutes.”
Don’t worry? For a while Marcus had forgotten where they were going, and enjoyed that feeling. Thanks for the reminder, Marcus wanted to say. He knew they were visiting family, but now all Marcus could think about was how creepy Nevada State Hospital was.
“I’ve been thinking,” his grandpa said, “about what your teacher said.”
“Uh huh,” Marcus said, rolling his eyes. He watched the thorny Yucca trees pass by through the window and tried to listen to the soothing hum of the drive. He wasn’t really in the mood to talk.
“Mr. Diddley said you needed more responsibility in your life, some discipline.”
“I’ll do more dishes then,” Marcus said sardonically, “or maybe even wash the windows.” Marcus blew hot breath on the glass next to his head, leaving a fog ring, then rubbed it clean with the edge of his fist and smiled.
His grandpa snickered. “I was thinking of something more significant than that.” Ellie began to stir.
“Than what, Grandpa?” Ellie asked, rubbing her eyes then turning her head to wipe her mouth quickly.
“Welcome back,” their grandpa said with a chuckle. “I was just telling Marcus that I had some thoughts on how to address Mr. Diddley’s concerns.”
“Okaaayyy,” she stretched out the pronunciation of the word.
“He said Marcus needed more discipline and that you needed to improve your interaction with people, right?”
“Right,” Ellie said skeptically. Marcus empathized. Usually when their grandpa came up with an idea, it was
pretty grandiose.
“I have the perfect solution. Your grandma even agrees with me.” Marcus and Ellie hung on his every word. “We’ve decided that you should start tending The Magic Shop.”
“You’re joking, right?” Marcus grabbed his grandpa’s seat and peered around it.
“This isn’t up for discussion right now. Think about it for tonight, and we’ll talk about it over breakfast in the morning.”
Marcus didn’t want anything to do with The Magic Shop. It represented so many things that he hated or didn’t believe in. Ellie wouldn’t have a major problem with it because she was always reading that stuff.
Grandma’s arms stretched out of her seat and she cleared her throat. “We’re here already?”
The old station wagon slowed down as they pulled up to a large wrought-iron gate with the name: Nevada State Hospital forged along the top of its arch. Looming stone statues of an unnatural animal stood on both sides of the gate. They had scared Marcus since he was a young boy. The statues’ heads had a bird’s beak, their necks and tails were scaled like a serpent, but the bodies were that of a lion. The weirdest feature was that on top of their back were pairs of open wings. These creatures looked like they were ready to pounce on anything that approached, including Marcus.
Winston pulled the station wagon up to a security checkpoint where a large video screen and a green button could be used to interact with the hospital staff. He rolled down his window and pressed the green button.
“Nevada State,” a female voice droned from the box.
“We are here to visit—”
“Winston Fith, is that you?” A grey-haired woman with a tight ponytail looked sideward through the camera as her face grew larger on the screen.
“How did you know?” Winston asked, looking back at Marcus and Ellie with a big sarcastic grin.
“Did you bring Charlotte?” She paused before continuing, “I finally found that soufflé recipe she’s been asking for.”
“Yes, Pat,” Winston said as Charlotte leaned over in her seat and waved at the camera. “Charlotte and the children are right here with me.”
Marcus heard the electronic buzzing sound and click that preceded the opening of the heavy metallic gate.
“See you in a minute,” Pat’s voice said from the kiosk.
The wrought-iron fence gave way to a long stretch of gravel driveway flanked by short, unkempt grass, and tall, rigid trees which normally permitted only slightly more light than they did then. The road led up to what Marcus had always thought must have once been a large mansion, the face of which was enshrouded by thick, green vines except for the few spots that revealed the beautiful red brick of the structure. Protruding from the roof stood two towers that had always made Marcus wonder if some maiden was inside who was worth saving.
The length of driveway ended in a roundabout that finally curved in front of the hospital entrance. A man in a white uniform stood next to Pat, the older woman from the security kiosk. They dressed the same, down to the nametags. The brakes squealed as Winston stopped the vehicle in front of them.
“Winston.” Pat opened her arms to greet them as they got out of the car. “Charlotte.” She hugged each of them, one by one. When it was Charlotte’s turn, Pat slipped a piece of paper into her hand.
“Here you go, Charlotte. It’s tricky to make, so you’ll need to follow the directions precisely.” Charlotte nodded nervously. “It took some searching, but I’m relieved to have finally found it. These kind of recipes tend to get lost from one generation to the next.”
“Thank you so much, Pat,” Charlotte said, her voice cracking a little. If Marcus hadn’t known her so well, he would have thought she was getting a little emotional. “This means a lot to our family.”
“You’re overselling it, Grandma,” Marcus said through the car window. Then he whispered to Ellie, “This had better be one good soufflé.”
Pat put her hand on Charlotte’s shoulder and lowered her voice. “Are you sure you should bring the children here like you do? It’s been a particularly rough night.”
“Family sticks together. Besides, we’re all they’ve got,” their grandma said. She knew they could hear them, Marcus was sure of it. His grandma stepped back and the children got out of the car.
Pat Lockhart was the warden of the hospital, and always greeted them during their visits. Marcus wondered if they received special treatment because they were the only people to visit, and they gave Pat something else to do for a while. If Marcus had to stay in that place all day, he’d go crazy.
“Well then,” Winston said, “shall we?”
“Can’t I just stay in the car, Grandpa?” Ellie asked.
Winston frowned and handed the station wagon keys to the man in white, who promptly drove off to park the car. Pat led the rest of them up the cracked stone steps and into the large entryway.
Marcus’s skin prickled the minute they entered the old building. Ellie said it was how they kept the temperature, but Marcus knew better. They lived in Nevada, and it was almost always warm. Something was different, something wasoff about the place. The hospital lights were dimmer than normal lights. Pat had explained many times that it was because some of the patients got anxious in too much light. The air smelled odd, too, with a sterile, manufactured odor intended to counter the stuffy smell of age.
They followed Pat down a wide corridor that opened up to the common area. They stopped at a lighted booth, a familiar check-in point where a beefy black man sat reading the latest thriller. As the group approached, the man cracked his knuckles, grabbed something from under his small desk, and stepped around to greet them.
“State your names please,” the black man said while he reviewed a clipboard.
“Come on, Roger,” Charlotte complained. “Do we really have to go through this whole routine tonight?”
“Let him do his thing, dear,” Winston said, nudging her softly. “My name is Winston Fith, and this is my wife, Charlotte, and our two grandchildren, Marcus and Ellie. We called ahead and made an appointment.”
Roger lifted a tethered red pencil from the clipboard and marked off several items. “State your purpose, please.”
Charlotte said, “We are here to visit family.”
“Who are you here to visit?”
“Okay, Roger,” Pat said. “Enough. They are here to visit Caleb and Anabell, and you know it. Now get out your wand and move us along. We don’t have all night.”
“Well, I do,” Roger said anxiously. Pat didn’t respond. “Come on, I never get to go through my whole routine.”
Pat glared at him a moment and finally said, “well?”
Roger removed a black metal rod from a loop on his pants. “Stand there please,” he droned, and pointed to an outline of a pair of feet on the ground nearby.
Winston took his place as instructed.
“Lift your arms please,” Roger said. Winston did so. Roger’s wand made a crackling noise as he traced it around Winston’s arms, down his waist, and everywhere else.
When he had finished without alarm, Roger pushed a button and the gate behind him clanked opened.
“Next.” Roger motioned Winston through.
Charlotte put her hand on Marcus’s shoulder and guided him into position. He raised his arms like his grandpa had and followed the same process; only when Roger moved the wand around Marcus’s arms and down his waist he laughed, as if Roger was tickling him. Humor was Marcus’s way of dealing with his nerves.
“Do you think this a joke, young man?” Roger asked. “This is serious. My job is to protect—”
Suddenly, a sharp chirp emitted from the wand. Roger instinctively took a defensive stance, his right hand hovering over the taser on his utility belt.
Pat walked over to Roger and slugged him on the shoulder. “Come on, Roger.”
He waved her off. “Not even you can interfere with protocol, ma’am,” Roger said with a crooked smile. “What do you have in there boy, a gun?”
&
nbsp; At first Marcus wondered if this was a joke. Then again, Roger seemed like the type who just waited for something to happen.
“Uh, no sir.”
“What about needles or other harmful items in your possession?” Roger examined Marcus’s jacket like there might be a knife in there somewhere. Roger reached into his own pocket, pulled out a latex glove and slipped it on.
“Now, I’m going to reach into your pocket and extract whatever’s causing the wand to go off, okay?” Roger asked, approaching Marcus like he was about to disarm a bomb. Marcus swallowed hard.
Before reaching in, Roger carefully patted the outside of Marcus’s jacket, attempting to feel the hidden object. Finally, Roger put his hand in Marcus’s pocket and fished around for a moment.
“It’s square shaped…” Roger mumbled, “could be a remote detonator. I read in the paper the other day that some terrorists used a kid to—ah ha!”
Roger removed his hand from the pocket, extracting Marcus’s cell phone.
“Roger!” Pat said furiously.
“Wait, there has to be something else. These aren’t supposed to set the wand off.” Roger scrutinized the phone in bewilderment before he turned on Marcus. “You know you are supposed to leave all your electronics in the car, right?”
“We’re done here,” Pat said before Marcus could answer.
“Go on, then.” Roger lifted up Marcus’s cell phone daintily as if it was the key to a murder investigation. “I’ll hold this until you are through.” Marcus joined his grandpa.
Ellie stepped forward and placed her two feet squarely on the spot indicated on the floor, but Roger put his hand on her back and led her through the gate.
“Just go.” Roger jerked his head at Charlotte, and Ellie joined the others.
They followed Pat through a series of corridors until they finally came upon a large, dimly lit common room lined with heavily framed windows. The people in the room could be categorized into two types. There were the alert folks that dressed like Pat, with white uniforms and nametags, and then there were the others. They had uniforms too, which looked more like pressed pajamas hanging loosely from their frail bodies.
