The Elm House

by Paul C Skertich

  “This house is getting a new makeover,” Brad told his mother.

  Father kissed mother on the lips and patted her bottom with his palm.

  “It’ll be fun! Brad even said he’ll help out,” he said.

  “It’s one of your plans again, isn’t it?” mother asked, raising one eyebrow at him.

  “It’ll be fine. I’ve made sure of it.”

  “Oh? How much have you planned for putting us in further in debt?”

  “Everything’ll be fine,” Father said, confidently and almost sounding 100-percent guaranteed this plan (this time) will be flawless.

  “It, better be!” mother said, cooking grilled cheese sandwiches over the stove. She glanced briefly over at Brad.

  “Did you do some of your homework?”

  Brad shook his head.

  “Later tonight,” he said.

  “Get your sister and tell her lunch is about to be ready,” his mother said, returning back to the pan over medium heat. “And I want that homework done, tonight.”

  Brad headed through the hallway, up the stairs to the second-floor hallway, then stopped at the head of the stairs with a quizzical face. He listened carefully as he heard his sister talking to someone. What the hell is she doing now? Brad questioned himself, and then he noticed the attic door was propped open. Damn it, Jesse! He opened the attic door and headed up the creaky attic stairs. Her voice seemed to be chatting away with someone, Brad assumed. The afternoon’s light shined through the oval attic window that radiated some light inside the attic. Jesse was seen in the middle of the attic, talking. A full-blown conversation, Jesse was having with herself. She would respond as if someone stood in front of her. She giggled and nodded her head and even asked questions. Is she going crazy?

  Jesse turned towards Brad’s surprised face then turned back to whoever was in front of her.

  “That’s Brad, he’s my brother!” she said, smiling from ear to ear. She shook her head fast. “He isn’t mean. Why would you say that?” she asked, frowning a bit.

  “Jesse, lunch time. Com’on!”

  Brad wanted to get the hell out of the attic as soon as possible. He felt this push against his chest, to leave soon. It felt to him like—he wasn’t welcomed in the sacred space of the attic. The sacred space where Jesse and whomever were having a good conversation. An unseen force that barred him from extracting his sister to eat lunch with the family.

  “Jesse!” he called out, a bit angry and annoyed—well, more creeped out than anything else.

  “What?” She turned around hastily with a snarl on her face. She laughed like a mad woman from a mental asylum, pointed her finger at Brad’s scared shitless face.

  “You’re such a pussy,” she said, grinning almost in delight of the smell of Brad’s fear.

  Brad marched over to his sister, grabbed her arm and lead her towards the attic door.

  “Com’on, lunch time.”

  They headed down the attic stairs into the second-floor hallway. Brad slammed the attic door, got right into his sister’s face.

  “Don’t ever say I’m a pussy,” he harshly whispered. “It’s not nice.”

  Jesse shook her head, innocently like, and furrowed her eyebrows.

  “I didn’t say that!” she said.

  “Whatever… downstairs, let’s eat lunch. Stay out of the attic!”

  “But… Matt wanted me to meet someone.”

  “There’s no Matt, so you need to stop this… or I’ll dad you’re having a full-blown conversation with yourself inside the attic. He’ll send you straight to the looney farm. Do you want that?”

  Jesse shook her head. “No,” she said softly. “What’s the looney farm?”

  “It’s where the crazies live forever, and they love little girls like you. They love to eat the fat in your cheeks, and they’ll make human bacon out of your stomach muscles. You think that’s worse? They’ll even serve you up as a human cheese burger to the other crazies. How does that sound, Jesse? Sounds really fun, doesn’t it?”

  “I don’t want to go to the looney farm, Brad. Please don’t tell Dad. I’ll never do it again!” she cried. She’s damn right that she won’t, Brad proudly thought. At least, I scared her into shape.

  “Good!” he said, letting go of her arm as they walked down the stairs, through the hallway and into the kitchen.

  Maybe, I should go to the looney farm? Brad questioned. First, I heard things that weren’t possibly there. Second, I’ve kept on seeing the attic door open by itself—there’s no explanation about that. Third, damn attic door slammed shut by itself—absolutely no explanation for that! Four, my god damn sister, up the attic, having a full-blown conversation with herself. Five, is there even a fifth reason why my sanity may be loose from its hinges? Yeah, there is a five… there was something inside my sister’s eyes and appearance that wasn’t the same; when she told me that I’m a pussy. Bad things are happening, and I know it in my heart. Bad things—very bad things—and possibly evil things.

  CHAPTER 6

  Ted has broken Brad’s last straw. Brad snapped. First it was the shaken soda can prank, and now Ted really fucked up. Boy, did he fuck up. Some could say that Brad was a bit sleep deprived. Which was true, Brad didn’t get much good shut eye for the past three nights. He constantly turned in his bed, having vivid odd dreams (scary… no, more like terrifying dreams) that kept Brad’s weary mind in half-asleep and half-awake moments during the night. His favorite remedy for restless nights was to drink milk, but milk didn’t do its guaranteed job to tranquil Brad to sleep. The whole smackdown match in school started on the sixth day in the beginning of October. The students, jammed packed like rats in a maze, witnessed the fight. The fight that was uploaded online to a video sharing site. No, it wasn’t worldstarhiphop.com nor youtube.com; it was uploaded to a new video sharing site that everyone was absolutely crazy about—iShare.com. Brad’s parents congratulated him for standing up for himself. The school principle scowled him and suspended him for a few days. What happened to Ted? Ted’s father took him out of school, at least, Brad had assumed.

  The morning of October 6,2018—Brad just got out of Ms. White’s class. The three musketeers: Colin, Timmy, and Brad walked down the hallway towards their next class. The hallway was filled with chatty students. Their laughter filled up the hallway.

  Brad must’ve accidently bumped into Ted or something. He couldn’t remember too much; rage does that to people sometimes—they black out, blocking vital memory bits.

  “You look shitfaced,” Timmy said to Brad.

  He nodded his weary head.

  “I’ve not slept well for past three days,” he replied.

  “Shit!” Colin said. “We got ourselves—a walking zombie.”

  Brad tried to give a chuckle but it came out poorly.

  “I feel like I can crawl underneath a rock and just sleep.”

  “What’s been going on?” Timmy asked. His soft pudding face showed how concerned he was. Colin and Timmy were true to their colors, Brad realized. True friends are always best company.

  “Weird dreams, actually.” Brad rubbed at the bags underneath his eyes.

  “What kind?” asked Timmy with a quizzical face.

  Brad shrugged his shoulders, shook his head.

  “Just weird dreams… most of the dreams… I’m in my house. But the house appears different… like I’m in the 1920s or something.”

  His shoulder was pushed back by bumping into something larger than he was. He slowly turned his head.

  “Sorry, Ted.”

  “New kid!” Ted said. His voice sounded menacing like a lion about to play with its food. He slammed Brad against the metal locker. Bang! The locker almost indented slightly inward. The combination lock dug at Brad’s lower back. Ted’s fists clinched Brad’s shirt collar.

  “How are you, new kid?” Ted asked, grinning a mile long. His friends surrounded Brad and laughed. “We cool?” Ted nodded. His face seemed sinister as he was about to do something—
something evil to Brad.

  The next thing that Brad knew was Ted’s fist slammed into his diaphragm, knocking the wind right out of him. Brad’s head was slammed again, harder, against the locker.

  “We cool?” asked Ted, grinning menacingly at Brad.

  Brad had a hard time catching his breath. The blow to his diaphragm ached like a bitch, and his back of his head ached. He tried to say something, but his face was jerked violently to the side. He realized Ted just decked him across his lower jaw. He could feel his brain moved inside his skull like a yoke inside an egg. He could hear his best-friends shout at Ted to leave him alone. But Ted’s groupies told them to keep their mouths shut.

  “I’m going to ask you again, new kid, are we cool?” Ted nodded.

  Brad shook the dizziness off.

  With one swift move, Brad kicked Ted in the shin, raised his arms up then slammed his fists against Ted’s grip on his collar. The surprised animal bellowed as he staggered backwards a bit. Brad spartan kicked Ted in his diaphragm, sending Ted to cover his stomach and gasp for breath. Brad took his hand upward, karate chopped Ted between the neck and shoulder area. Ted’s eyes filled with the sharpest pain ever. Ted could be seen hesitate to fight back. He seemed to want to retreat quickly. Nah, Ted wasn’t going to back down from a fight. He attempted to spear dive towards Brad as if he were tackling someone on the football field. Brad moved out of the raging bull’s path. Straight out of a comedy movie, the Orc, Ted slammed his head right into the metal locker. He almost knocked himself the fuck out, too. He got up, shook his head with hand on his brow and growled like a beast. Again, he tried to spear dive Brad. Yet, again, Brad moved out of the raging bull’s path, grabbed him around his throat and placed him into a sleep hold. Brad’s forearm and bicep pinched both arteries inside Ted’s neck, slowly causing Ted’s brain’s oxygen demand to deplete. Sure, Ted struggled to go nighty-night, alright, but eventually he was sleeping on the hallway floor like a baby.

  Brad looked at Ted’s groupies and asked, “Are we cool, now?”

  Ted’s friends nodded quickly. Their eyes full of surprised.

  “Yup, we’re cool,” they said in unison.

  Brad sighed then realized that he was being dragged off to the principal’s office. Principle Daggard.

  Principle Daggard’s unpleasant face stared daggers into Brad’s eyes. Brad’s parents sat next to him inside Daggard’s office.

  “Since, it’s your first offense, Brad… you’ll just receive a couple days of suspension,” Daggard said. His voice sounded gruff that matched his military styled haircut and masculine jawline. It almost appeared, to Brad, that Daggard didn’t have eyebrows or really thin eyebrows. Inside the office, a portrait of Daggard dressed in his military uniform with various of medals pinned on his uniform. No wonder why some of the students hated him, Brad thought. Daggard treated every student like privates under his chain of command.

  “Suspension?” Brad asked, bewildered and shocked. “How is defending yourself bad? So bad… that I get a suspended?”

  Daggard took an inhale then exhaled through his big nose.

  “I agree. But his father wouldn’t agree.” Daggard said, frowning. “Self-defense is good, Brad. It is. But—”

  “But what?” John asked. He seemed more bewildered than Brad was. Maybe it was the fact that this school wasn’t going to do a damn thing to Ted because of who Ted’s father was. What the hell is Ted’s father going to do? Brad questioned.

  “Ted’s father, Mr. Herrick, is the mayor of Old Willows Brooke. So, you can see… a kinda small town like this, Mr. Herrick… this high school can’t afford any trouble with the mayor.”

  “Absolute, bullshit!” John declared. The look in his eyes ignited into an explosion that Brad had never experienced before. “You’re telling me… your school’s facility is too chicken shit to anything about this Ted-boy, because of his father—the mayor of this town?”

  “Let myself be clear, Mr. Herrick… Ted had been numerously disciplined. Numerously.” Daggard slightly looked away as if he didn’t like seeing the shit he was saying. When people often lie, they tend to glance sideways. Or they’ll change the subject. Amongst other behaviors people exhibit as they spin a yarn of lies. It was clear enough to see, Brad knew—possibly—that Daggard wasn’t telling the entire truth. Call it a hunch or intuition, Brad felt it in his gut that he was spinning the old yarn of lies. Possibly Daggard is terrified of Ted’s father, Brad thought. But Daggard faced the war head on, right? Or is it something—like dirt—that Ted’s father has on Daggard. A crooked Mayor? Wouldn’t surprise me, Brad thought.

  “Well—I’m glad my son stood up to this Ted-boy. Maybe now, he won’t mess with my son—no more.”

  “Absolutely, this isn’t a punishment—at all. Just let things settle down, a few days—give or take—and come back to school.”

  Three days off from school? Brad thought. Okay, fine. Cool beans with me.

  Daggard’s office door busted opened. A tall, scary, blood vessel’s bulging out of his neck, man appeared. Alongside of him was Ted, but his eyes looked scared-shitless. Not scared of Brad, Ted wasn’t. He appeared more scared of his father—the mayor of Old Willows Brooke.

  “Is this the piece of shit that did this to you, son?” Ted’s father asked his son. His finger pointed directly at Brad. One good whack upside the head, Ted’s father gave his son. “Answer me, moron!”

  Ted nodded his head quickly.

  “Yes, father…”

  Ted’s father shoved him out of the office and pointed behind him. “Get in the car, stay in the car. And we’re going to have a long talk at home.”

  Ted hurried fast as possible down the hallway. So fast, it seemed like he blitzed down the hallway for a field goal, Brad amusingly thought.

  “Listen here, boy,” Ted’s father leaned close into Brad’s face. “Do you have any idea what you’ve cost him? My boy… do you know what you’ve done? He doesn’t have a fat chance in hell to get a football scholarship to University of Miami, anymore. It’s all because of you!”

  “Easy there, mayor,” John said, standing up. “My son is a good boy, and he was taught to defend himself.”

  Ted’s father laughed. “Defend himself? Your son’s good? Your son is the devil! He’s the one who picked a fight with my boy!”

  “I bumped into him by accident. He slammed me against a locker. He then—”

  “Shut up, boy!” Ted’s father said, harshly.

  “Don’t you tell my son to shut up!” John shouted. He pointed his finger at Ted’s father. “I don’t give a rat’s ass if you’re the mayor of Tinkle town. Don’t you ever speak to my son again like that.” His face turned bright red with steam coming from his ears. “Ever!” he shouted. Brad stared at his father in awe and amazement. He’d never seen his father become worked up like this. It appeared to Brad that his father was about to enter a boxing match with the mayor of Old Willows Brooke. Everyone would’ve purchased tickets to that fight.

  “Both of you calm down,” Daggard commanded in a loud dominating voice. “You two want to fight, go outside. Not in this school. Now, both of you, calm down.”

  Ted’s father inhaled deeply then exhaled.

  “Daggard, we’ll be in touch soon. I hope I’m in a better and clear state of mine—by then—or else… there’ll be problems.”

  Ted’s father turned his head towards Brad’s father.

  “With a snap of my fingers, your son will be expelled. If I had my way, your whole entire family will be forced out of Old Willows Brooke. Understand?” He nodded. “Good, thought so.” He turned quickly and briskly headed out.

  Jesus, now I know why Ted’s such a piece of shit, Brad thought. Like father, like son.

  “Suspension?!” Mary cried out. “For defending himself against a school bully?”

  The Herrick family sat down for dinner in the dining room.

  John nodded. “I literally shitted my pants when I heard he was suspended, darling,” he sa
id. His voice showed much despair—not for Brad but for the school—as he shook his head. “It’s a shame, really! The school’s principle won’t even bat an eye at this, Ted-boy, to even discipline him. Where’s his suspension? Right, I forgot, silly me—his father’s the mayor of this town.”

  “That shouldn’t give, Ted, any right to pick on students. Not one bit, the school needs to step up to his father.” Mary plopped some mash potatoes onto her plate. “Absolutely madness, I tell you.” She glanced over at Brad, placed her warm tender hand on top of his. “I’m glad you’ve shown that bully a thing or two.”

  “I’m just glad those lessons had finally paid off,” John said. He placed the tiny slice of pork into his mouth, chewed thoroughly then swallowed. “That Ted-boy didn’t even have a bruised eye or broken nose—not even a broken arm or leg. Brad could’ve messed him up badly. His so-called father is blowing the whole scenario out of proportion. There’s not even one damn scratch on the kid’s head.”

  “I kicked him in the shin but not enough to break it,” Brad said. Unless, he kicked him a bit harder than he thought. But he was certain that Ted would’ve been bellowing in pain, so Ted’s father could’ve been blowing things out of proportion. Soccer players often get kicked in the shin by accident, but they have shin-guards to protect themselves. So, maybe—possibly—could be possible, Brad perhaps did break or fractured Ted’s shin. He remembered, Ted, walking into Daggard’s office just fine, not one sign of limping or squinting in pain. But Ted’s eyes shown how terrified he was, very terrified—indeed, of his own father. The mayor that ran Old Willows Brooke with an iron fist. An iron fist that said “do what I say or else” to people that refused to obey or even questioned, the mayor’s authority.

  “I should waltz right in that spineless principal’s office and give him an ear full,” Mary said, stabbing her fork into the piece of sliced porkchop. “Outrageous.”

  Brad noticed Jesse’s outer space stare. Her legs didn’t swing like she normally would. She just stared blankly. Her plate looked untouched, but her face seemed pale as a ghost.