by P. S. Power
Josh cracked it open carefully, waiting for the gag or trick, confetti flying out at him or a little device making a screaming noise, until he found the first page with writing on it. That was a bit of a letdown after wondering what it could be so anxiously. Not that he wanted a prank.
The top line was crayon, brown, the hand obviously female, though the words were printed neatly. He didn't know how he could tell, but it was clear anyway.
I am brown.
Under that the words were just written in regular black ink, the same hand, printed and tidy.
You were chosen. If you're reading these words, you are now a member of a very secret club, Crayons. This is our journal, our testament to the ages. Our voice. Only one person in all the world knows who has this book, other than you. Tell no one what you read here and write what is truest to your heart. There is no judging, no condemnation. Just love.
Blinking Josh wondered if it was a prank after all. Who in the world would pick him for a club? For that matter, what kind of clubs just told you that you'd been picked like this? Were there dues? Had he signed up and somehow forgotten?
Nope. He would have remembered something like that. He remembered most things, it was a curse as often as not. Josh couldn't help it. Most of the time he hid the fact from other people though. It was useful in class, but he remembered every smile, every frown, the awkward glances and slights that everyone gave him too. That part just sucked. Mostly he just tried to let stuff go, but it was easy to learn not to trust someone that might have even been a friend eventually if he could just forget what they'd done before.
The rest of the first page was a list of rules, which were simple enough. Write in your own section, based on color, print as neatly as you could, say only the whole truth and hold nothing back. When you were done, you taped the envelope to your own locker for pick up.
It would come around more than once.
Other than that, they were supposed to each read each color's input and if they found anyone in the drama department that seemed to fit the bill, they were to help them if they could. It didn't matter if the person that got help was the same one or not, since helping someone out was a good thing regardless. That was all.
It was telling though. The project or club, whatever it was, just existed in the drama department? Well it was the artsy kind of thing that they'd all appreciate and it made sense that he might be selected at random for something like that then, since he'd been in the class for a year and a half and helped on two plays. Josh didn't feel like part of the team maybe, but he'd been around. Maybe someone had made a mistake?
Heh.
Shrugging Josh decided to make dinner first, which meant calling his mother at work, because he never knew when she'd be coming home. It was Friday, but her law office stayed open late, since they handled criminal cases and people got into trouble more during nights and weekends than any other time. Not that having a lawyer then helped that much, since the courts didn't run on the weekends, but sometimes they could get people out of minor things or even bother a judge at home if it was important enough. Mercy wanted to make partner, so she was willing to put in the extra hours to help build the client base.
“Mercy Harding's office, how may I direct your call?” The voice was familiar, Joanie, the law partnership's younger secretary.
She was a little plump, but in a sexy kind of way, curvy. Hard working and always nice when Josh called, going out of her way to be sweet as often as not. Even flirting with him playfully. He liked her. Really, he had a bit of a crush on her, as in, if she'd go for it, he'd totally have sex with her. She almost always worked with his mom on the weekends, so they did get to see each other sometimes...
“Hey Joanie, Josh here, I need an ETA on my mom, so I know if I need to save her dinner or set a plate.” His voice came out smoothly enough at least, which always made him feel better about himself. Maybe he could get a job in radio? No one really cared what your face looked like there. That or find a sport he liked and try and make a go that way. A long shot, but something to think about. Or he could just be a doctor or a lawyer himself. That didn't interest him, but the idea was one to think about. Both fields were well respected and really, they didn't seem that hard. Well, not once you learned them at least.
“One moment sweetie, I'll see if I can get a straight answer from her lawyerliness.” The voice was playful and warm. Then, that was just her too. She flirted with everyone as a rule, Josh had even heard her flirt with his mom once or twice. It was cute.
Josh waited.
And waited.
Five minutes later his mother's voice suddenly started talking to him.
“Hi honey. A case just came in, and I need to get down to the courthouse to file some papers before it closes. I... don't think I'll be in until late, I'll pick something up. Oh, in case I don't see you first, we have a date tomorrow night at one of the partner's houses. The senior partner Bill Banister, you've met, remember? Family is invited, and since you're all I have that means you. Dress nice? Maybe your gray suit, if that still fits, if not, a nice sweater and slacks or something?” She sounded rushed and was clearly walking while she spoke.
“I... do I have to go? I mean, I've barely even met any of your partners, so it's not like I'll know anyone there.” It wasn't a good argument and he knew it, but strangers made Josh feel a bit uncomfortable.
More than a bit.
His mom just laughed.
“Of course you do silly. This is one of those career building moments for me, and this one might even end up being important, so you get to show up and support me. It's in the implied familial contract. I know I have a copy of it around here somewhere...”
He got the joke at least. And the ruling, Josh would be going and sit in the room with a bunch of people he didn't know or it would make things between them... strained. Not that he'd be punished for it, but she'd look at him, hurt and frustrated, for weeks if he didn't.
Without warning, as she did about half the time they talked, his mother suddenly spoke rapidly.
“Ooops, I've got to go hon. Um, I'll be there at six tomorrow evening to pick you up? Be ready?” Then she just hung up.
Typical.
Grinning Josh fixed a bit of spaghetti and opened a jar of sauce. Then he ate alone. Again. Like most nights.
