Doesn't Anybody Say Hello?

Overwhelmed by extracurricular copyediting, music recitals/concerts, and just life in general, I am treating you all with a guest blogger, my own Kathleen Kristi Lynn Selden. This is her last composition assignment for the year: Write the first chapter of a novel.

And if you really like it, you can send your checks to Katie, which she will use to earn a degree, and then one day finish the novel. I know this paper is in pretty good shape--Katie is aware of the importance in the writing process of having a good editor.

Doesn’t Anyone Say “Hello”?

“Have you seen James lately?” It took me a moment to figure out who had called me. I was used to hearing “Hey” when I answered my cell phone.

“Um, hi?” I responded, confused. It was Nate, my best friend James’ older brother.

“Charlotte, I’m serious. James just took off last night and hasn’t come back.”

“Wait, what?” I was still caught off guard by Nate’s strange greeting. I thought he was just kidding. I mean, James would never just leave without telling anyone. But Nate had called me “Charlotte”, and he’s never called me by my full name.

“James isn’t home. I can’t find him anywhere.” I stood in the middle of the mall, trying to sort my thoughts. People flowed past me as if I was only a log in the creek. Rejected elevator tunes played so quietly that, until now, I hadn’t noticed them. The smell of orange chicken and pretzels spilled out from the food court entrance. “Charlie, are you there?” Nate asked after a while.

“Yeah, I’m here,” I snapped back into reality. “Are you sure he ran away? I mean, he could have just been out late last night or something.”

“No, I left the house last night because I was going to a party. He couldn’t leave because he’s supposed to be watching Emma and Sarah while Mom and Dad are in Europe.” We were both quiet for moment. “Look, have you seen him or haven’t you?”

“No, I haven’t talked to him in a couple days. Call me if he comes home, okay?”

“Alright,” Nate hung up as abruptly as the conversation had started. I didn’t move from the middle hallway. Without thinking, I picked up my cell phone and robotically dialed James’ cell number. My heart beat faster with every familiar ring.

“Um… Yeah…you know what to do…” James didn’t even like to talk enough to record a decent voice mail. I waited as the typical computerized voice clarified the fact that I should leave a message after the beep.

“Hey, it’s Charlie” I added quickly even though I knew he could tell it was me on the phone. “Yeah, just call me back when you get this. Everyone is worried.” I closed my phone and placed it back into my pocket. I grabbed my keys from my purse and walked out into the parking lot.

I slipped into my car and placed both of my hands on the hot pink and black zebra printed steering wheel cover. Wrappers from every fast food place imaginable carpeted the floor, despite the fact that there was a conveniently located trash bag attached to the back of the passenger seat. I couldn’t help worry about him. I sat there, trying to remember everything I could about him.

cool flashback music like on Lost

“Hey, I’m Charlie.” I smiled at the boy sharing the back row table with me. It was my first day of high school, and I figured that I was going to be a bit more outgoing than usual because there wasn’t anything to lose. If people didn’t like me now, they wouldn’t like me later. He was leaning back in his chair in the corner, black hood from his zip-up sweatshirt over his head. He just looked up from behind his long black bangs, bewildered that I would say anything to him, and then leaned back down. The art room was a collage of oil paintings and photographs. Bits of colorful oil pastels freckled the table tops. Accidental paint splotches decorated the hard light gray floor. Three black and white pictures lay face up on the table in front of him. “I really like your pictures!” I said, hoping to start a conversation, and reached over to grab them, but he quickly put his hand down on top of them.

“Thanks,” he mumbled. I sat and looked in slight envy of everyone else who had friendly partners and wondered how I would ever make it through this class. The teacher stood up in front explaining shadows and lighting. The only thing I was thankful for at that moment was the fact that I was in the back row and could lean against the wall. The bell finally redeemed me from the neglected back wall and I picked up my books and started out the door.

“I’m James, by the way,” he said as I grabbed my pencil. I looked up and gave a quick smile. Maybe that class wouldn’t be so bad after all.

back to the present

I pulled into the driveway and parked just outside the garage. No one was home, so I threw my keys on the counter and looked through the caller ID on the phone, just in case Nate had called the house phone instead of my cell. Or, better yet, if James had called. I tried to think about the last time we had spoken. He had called me, which was strange because he didn’t like to talk on the phone much. Since his family had moved to Chicago in December, we mainly e-mailed each other. The last time we had talked, it hadn’t been the cheeriest conversation.

flashback music again

“Charlotte, I-I really screwed up.” No one in that family could say a simple hello on the phone.

“What’s wrong, James?” I asked hesitantly.

“Well, I don’t drink, you know that. But last night…”

“James…”

“I was just, sad, with the move and the new school and everything. I wasn’t thinking. I feel awful. I promised myself I wasn’t going to drink,” he stopped for a minute. “What am I supposed to do?” I had no idea what to say to him. Normally I was the one asking for advice, and it was just stupid little things.

"Just, well….forgive yourself; there’s nothing much you can do now. It’s going to be okay.”

“I’m so stupid! I hate being here. I hate my new school. I want to go back home.”

“James, I’m sorry. I miss you, too.”

“I’ve got to go; I’ll e-mail you later.”

“Okay, bye.”

back to the present

And then he hung up. What if he had beaten himself up about this too much? James could never handle guilt. He always blew things out of proportion. I could see him sitting, in the middle of no where, in his car. I hoped that was what he was doing, and that it was nothing worse.

"Oh, please let him be alright,” I whispered a prayer. I picked up the phone and tried to call him again, but the doorbell rang, so I set my phone down on the kitchen counter and walked down the hall and opened the front door.

“Can I stay here for awhile?”

“James!” I squealed. “I don’t know if I want to smack you or hug you! I’ve been so worried.” James just laughed. “That isn’t funny.”

“Well I’m glad to see you too, Charlie.”

“No, it’s not that I don’t want to see you, it’s just—“

“I know, I know.” He gave me a hug. “Can I come in?”

“Sure, I’m just going to go call Nate and let him know you’re here.”

“NO! Don’t tell ANYONE I’m here.” He jumped over to the phone and raised it in the air where I couldn’t reach.

“Why?” I said, jumping on the table so I could get my phone.

“Just promise me you won’t, okay?”