Castle Juliet

by Brandon Berntson

  The blue carpet turned into a living sea. Shark fins circled between the classroom desks. Octopus tentacles broke the surface, encircled the throats of the children who’d laughed at him. The tentacles lifted them out of their seats, high above the water. They screamed and pleaded. They’d never laugh at him again, they’d said. Mrs. Dermott’s voice droned on and on, eventually fading into nothingness.

  Alice looked over at Jack. His eyes glazed. He was looking at something on the ceiling, everywhere in the world but in the classroom.

  *

  The autumn wind blew cold when school let out. Jack and Alice were walking down the street together again, dressed for the weather: Jack in long pants, a gray sweater, and a black jacket. Alice wore a lime green coat, her curly red hair spilling below her shoulders. The streets and yards were damp with a misty, late September rain. The leaves began to change from green to yellow, from yellow to orange, and from orange to brown, making barren patches in the trees as they fell and littered the yards, sidewalks, and streets. They covered the tops of cars and rooftops. The sky was heavily overcast, a slate of thick, dark gray. The smell of wood-smoke hung in the air. Storyville’s residents were anxious to cozy up their tiny homes. Tendrils of smoke drifted lazily from several chimneys as Jack and Alice walked. October was right around the corner.

  “I’m worried about you, Jack,” Alice said.

  Jack turned in Alice’s direction, his eyes still unfocused, as though, even now, he were pretending to be in a distant, medieval land, a time forgotten by everything and everyone but Jack himself.

  “Alice?” he said, frowning.

  “You’re not doing very well in school, Jack. You’re off to a bad start already. I don’t want to see you held back. You do nothing but daydream all the time, and you don’t pay attention or take notes during the lessons. Everyone knows your mind is somewhere else. Even Mrs. Dermott.”

  Jack pondered this before saying, “Well, who cares what everyone thinks. Bunch of rum bunnies anyway.”

  Alice frowned, frustrated. “Don’t you even care, Jack?”

  “Sure, I care,” he said, exasperated. “But what can I do about it? I can’t help it if I’m stupid.”

  “You could pay attention!” Alice said. “And you’re not stupid! Stop saying that!”

  “Alice, I try to pay attention!” Jack said, throwing his arms into the air. “Honest. I can’t help it if my mind has a mind of its own.” He giggled at this and continued: “I try all the time. Jeez! It’s not my fault! I just have a hard time with it. I’ll never amount to much anyway. Everyone knows that. So, why bother? I concentrate and concentrate, but it’s like these other worlds, these little fantasies just come in and start pushing everything else aside without me being able to do anything about it. It’s like they’re more powerful than I am. What am I supposed to do? And I like them. That’s the funny thing. I like those things, that I have that stuff inside. It makes me happy. I feel comfortable when they’re around. It’s the only time I do feel comfortable!”

  “I think you should see a counselor,” Alice said. “Or something like that. Maybe that would help. I just want to see you do well in school is all.”

  Jack did not reply. He seemed, for the moment, genuinely heartbroken. Alice wondered how truly lonely and isolated Jack felt. He looked, in fact, on the verge of tears. His chin trembled, and his eyes turned red and watery, but he held them back. If anything, Jack looked more withdrawn now than he had moments ago.

  “I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings, Jack,” Alice said, in the softest voice she could muster.

  “It’s okay. It’s just hard for me. It always has been. I hate school. I don’t know how to pay attention and get good grades. Every time I study for a test or work on an assignment, I think I’m gonna do great. That I’m gonna get a big, fat letter ‘A,’ finally, but I’ve never gotten a big, fat letter A, except in Art class, and I don’t think I’ll ever get a big, fat letter A in anything but Art Class, because in Art Class, you get to draw and paint and do cool stuff like that. I get the papers and the tests back and see these big fat letter F’s and D’s and sometimes, C’s, no matter how hard I study, or how much time I put into it. It drives me crazy! So then, I think, ‘Well, what did I do all that studying for?’ It’s stupid! I’m stupid, and I’ll always be stupid!”

  Jack was crying now, and no doubt, he felt stupid for crying, too, because he balled his hands into fists, turned beet red, and looked as though he wanted to scream. Alice’s heart wrenched, looking at him.

  “These things in my head are more real than I am sometimes,” he said. “They’re more real than the real world. More colorful. I like those things, Alice. I like that my mind can make them come true the way they do. It’s like the fantasies are friends of mine, and only they understand me.”

  He said all this while staring straight ahead. Alice wondered what Jack was imagining now. On the side of the road, a hubcap lay in the gutter. Jack bent down and picked it up, didn’t say a word about it, and tucked it under his arm, as if picking up lone hubcaps from the gutter were the most natural thing in the world.

  “What are you gonna do with that?’ Alice asked.

  Jack shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  “Jack, I’ve noticed you’ve been collecting things lately, the wagon wheel you were talking about. I saw you drag a board home the other day. Remember? What are you doing with all this stuff?”

  Again, he shrugged. “I don’t know,” he said.

  Alice wondered if had something to do with his secret fantasies, what he imagined all the time. She wondered if a voice were telling him to collect every random item he could find for reasons even Jack was unaware. “I see these things, whatever they are, wherever they are, and I just have to collect them. You never know. Maybe you could use a wagon wheel someday, or a hubcap, or a two-by-four.”

  Alice didn’t say anything for some time, and Jack simply walked along, carrying the hubcap, saying nothing more about it.

  “Jack,” Alice said. “If I offered to help you with your assignments and tests would you let me? I know it’s hard for you, but maybe we can make studying fun. Just a little bit each day, say an hour after school. You can come over and have dinner with us, and we can go over a little bit at a time. Okay? Would you let me do that?”

  Jack continued to walk beside her. He was quiet for a long time before he responded. “I guess, I just love summer too much,” he said. “No school, you know? You never have to worry about anything in the summer, just what you’re going to play next. I can do anything I want in the summer, because Dad says I have to put up with school so much anyway, and he doesn’t think a kid should have all that stuff on his mind, but then again, he’s worried about my grades, too. But he doesn’t punish me for it. It’s hard going from summer and playing all the time, then to school. It’s like an adjustment I can’t make. It’s, like, totally the opposite.”

  Alice nodded. “Will you let me help you?”

  “A whole hour!” Jack said, shaking his head. “That’s, like, a whole complete lifetime after school as it is, especially since we spend the whole day there. Mary! But okay. Sure. And I’m not promising anything, Alice. Okay?”

  “Promise you’ll just try,” she said, smiling.

  “Okay. I promise I’ll just try. But that’s it. And I want some of your mom’s homemade cookies for my efforts. That’s only fair.”

  “Deal,” said Alice.

  Jack nodded, and they stopped walking to shake on it. “When do we get started?” he asked.

  “We’ll start tomorrow. So, you have a whole day to prepare.”

  “Fair enough,” Jack said.

  They walked on, and Jack looked up at the sky. “I do love the clouds, though, Alice,” he said. “You know? I’ve always liked these bleak, rainy days. This is how the fantasies look to me. There’s always lots of clouds in the fantasies. Makes the green on the grass look greener. I like that.”

  “Do you see anything else in the clo
uds, Jack?” Alice said.

  “Just the rain, Alice. I’m not the only one crying today.”

  CHAPTER VI

  JACK’S PISTOLS ARE LOADED

  Jack began his studies the next day at 5:00 pm after school at Alice’s house. The weather was wet, drizzly, and cold. Jack took his time walking, and he was damp and soggy by the time he got there.

  “Don’t you have an umbrella, Jack?” Alice’s mother asked.

  “What’s an umbrella?” Jack said.

  When Jack had mentioned it to his father, Phillip was pleased. Having Alice help was a splendid idea, he’d said.

  “That’s rather nice of Alice, isn’t it?” Phillip said. Jack’s father was a short, stocky, dark-haired man with large brown eyes and a wide, white smile. Much like Jack, the man had never lost touch with his jocular, youthful side. He mentioned how funny it was Jack had inherited every ounce of his mother’s looks and not his own. One thing this Father and son shared, however, was their personality.

  “Do you think we should do something nice for Alice, Dad?” Jack had said, before heading over to Alice’s house.

  “That depends on how well you do, son. Let’s see how it goes. Okay?”

  Jack had agreed. Now, he was at Alice’s house, and they were sitting at the dining room table after Jane had given him a towel to dry off, and a cup of hot cocoa to warn him, but the rain had only been a light mist, Jack had said, and he dried out quickly. Notebooks, pens, pencils, books, assignments, and every other imaginable thing they needed lay spread across the table. Alice’s mother was busy in the kitchen making dinner. Since math was Jack’s most difficult subject, they began with multiplication and division. Division was the hardest thing for Jack to understand, at least for now. He didn’t want to talk about fractions yet. Division was difficult enough, and already, Jack grew increasingly frustrated. Alice, however, was patient even loving, as she explained it to him. Jack was surprised when Alice’s mother, Jane, and her father, Gerald, also participated. They sat around the table when Jane wasn’t busy with dinner, coaching him on. With dinner simmering away in the kitchen, Jane and Gerald, as well, sat around the table, urging Jack on with simple explanations, and learning several things about division themselves.

  “It looks kinda like a pistol,” Jack said.

  “What does?” Alice said.

  “The division symbol,” Jack said. “Look.” He leaned over and drew a small horn on the angle of the division symbol—the hammer a gun. “See, now it looks like a pistol.”

  “Well, there ya go,” Gerald said, who was the spitting image of his daughter with bright red hair, fair skin, freckles, and neatly trimmed beard and mustache. He was the tallest man Jack had ever seen at six feet, four inches. He wore a white shirt with long sleeves and suspenders. “You’ve got a way of looking at it now.”

  “What do you mean, sir?” Jack asked.

  Every now and then, Jane got up to check on the pork loin and roasted potatoes, then came back to sit down. She was a plump, cheerful woman with bright blue eyes and blonde hair tied in a ponytail. Her cheeks were ruddy from the heat in the kitchen. The house smelled delicious, comfortably spacious for the four of them at the dining room table. Jack loved it here. His belly rumbled audibly, a growl and a bark, loud enough for everyone to hear. Jane looked at Jack and raised her eyebrows. Even Boxer, who was lying in his bed, looked up and whined.

  “My stomach says hello and pass the potatoes,” Jack said.

  “Anyway,” Gerald said, after a time. “That’s kinda what division is, Jack, like shooting down the unnecessary numbers until you come up with the right ones.”

  “Hey,” Jack said, opening his eyes wide. “So, you could look at the bigger numbers like bad guys. This number on the outside is the sheriff, and these numbers inside the division symbol are like the outlaws, and we have to reduce the number of outlaws in order to save the town.”

  “And the number you end up with Jack,” Jane added, “could be the lives you save.”

  Alice, Jack and Gerald looked at Jane, and all of them raised their eyebrows.

  “Jane, my dear,” Gerald said. “You are brilliant!”

  “Way to go, Mom!” Alice chimed in.

  “Cooool,” Jack said.

  Jane blushed a deeper red, lowered her eyes, and said, “Uh, maybe I’ll check on dinner.”

  Jack’s stomach rumbled loud enough for everyone to hear again. “You have to say hello to my stomach in order for it to stop,” he said. “No one said hello the first time, so it’s still saying hello.”

  “Hello, Jack’s stomach!” Alice and Gerald said, while Jane was busy in the kitchen.

  “Stomach says ‘Nice to meet ya,’” Jack said. “‘And could you please pass the pie?’”

  “Dinner will be ready soon, Jack,” Jane said, wiping her hands on her apron. “It’ll be nice having you.”

  “Thanks,” Jack said. “I don’t think my stomach would be rumbling so much if it didn’t smell so smack-dab, ding-dangly-icious, Mrs. Skylar.”

  “Jack, you don’t have to call me, Mrs. Skylar. I don’t call you Mr. Bristol.”

  “That’s cause I’m not a mister, Mrs. Skylar. I’m just a boy.”

  “And I’m just a woman,” Jane said.

  “Oh, you are much more than that, my dear,” Gerald said, smiling broadly.

  Jane blushed again and looked at her husband. “Gerald Bartholomew Skylar!” she said.

  “Points scored for Dad!” Alice said.

  “Uh,” Gerald said, blushing himself. “Maybe we should get back to the lesson.”

  Jack could not remember having such a pleasant time. The house was warm and cozy, and he thought he could sit here for hours enjoying everybody’s company.

  “So, Jack,” Alice said. “Let’s start with something simple. Nine divided by three.”

  “That’s a little, easier, I think,” Jack said. “So Sheriff Three walks into town. He’s feeling confident and cocky. He’s got hisself a score to settle. He’s been hearing about some very bad dudes in town. They’ve been running amuck and taking hostages. Dirty scoundrels, all of them. Can’t stand the whole lot, really. But that’s just my opinion. Makes my trigger finger all itchy up and down, like. Sheriff Three isn’t going to stand for it. So he walks into town. Oh, wait! Maybe he’s got two deputies! That’s it! Sheriff Three and his Deputies One and One walk into town, and they’re after nine villains. Blam! Blam! Blam! Down they all go like dogs! Sheriff Three and his deputies get three each, and they save three lives in the process. So the answer is…three!”

  They stared at Jack, amazed by this entire episode. Gerald leaned his head back and roared with pleasant laughter.

  “Jacky-boy!” he said. “That is priceless! Brilliant, lad!”

  “I must say, Jack,” Alice said. “That was quite a way of looking at it.”

  “Good job, Jack,” Jane said, and patted the boy on the back.

  Jack was grinning so wide, he was showing all his teeth. He blushed, turned bright red. His eyes were alight and merry. He seemed genuinely proud of himself and their reaction. Tears gathered in his eyes. “Wow,” he said. “This is kinda fun, really.”

  “Wanna try a harder one, Jack?” Alice said.

  “My pistols are loaded, dear Alice,” he said. “Bring on the bad guys!”

  *

  Jack never thought about learning as fun, but he was having fun with this. They delved into harder division, which took some time, but he was able to grasp it by the end of an hour, and he felt as though he were truly learning something thanks to Alice and her parents. He supposed in school, he’d have to cut down on how long these battles took, because he would, after all, be in school, and sometimes—during the tests—they were on a time limit. He couldn’t afford to go into theatrics all the time, he thought, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as he’d thought. Once he put his imagination into it, it was easier to grasp.

  After shooting down villains, saving lives and the town, they cleared an
d set the table for dinner. Pork, potatoes, green beans, and hot rolls sent vapory clouds of steam into the air. It looked magnificent. Jack had a huge glass of milk and a second helping of rolls and potatoes. After all this, Jane insisted he eat more.

  “Flaming roller coasters,” Jack said. “That was the most scrumptious meal I’ve had this side of the mighty Mississippi!”

  Jack was still helping himself to buttered rolls when Jane dished out a hot slice of apple pie for dessert, heavy on the whipped cream for Jack. Finally, Jack leaned back, put a hand on his stomach, unable to eat another bite. He yawned. “That was delicious, Mrs. Jane,” Jack said. “Gerald is a very lucky gent.”

  “Well, I do declare, Jack!” Jane said, widening her eyes. “The way you talk!”

  Jack giggled to himself, thanking everyone for their help, but said he should probably be getting home because it was getting late, and he liked to spend time with his dad.

  “Why don’t you take some leftovers home for him, Jack,” Jane said. “I’ll get you a plate ready.”

  “Wow, Mrs. Jane,” Jack said, surprised. “That would be super! Dad’ll love that!”

  “Happy to do it,” Jane said. She got up from the table to rummage in the kitchen. She came out with a Tupperware dish, large enough for Phillip’s appetite, and piled out a generous amount of food, along with a slice of apple pie.

  “Not too much to carry, is it, Jack?”

  “No, ma’am,” he said. “I’ll pretend wolves are chasing me, and that I have to get home to Dad before the sun goes down.” He grabbed his bag and books and put on his jacket. “Thanks, Alice,” he said. “You are the best tutor ever.”

  “My pleasure, Jack,” Alice said. “You watch. Your grades will come up. We’ll make sure of it.”

  “I could kiss you!”

  “Maybe later,” Alice said, blushing.

  “Mrs. Jane then,” Jack said, and surprised everyone by jumping up onto a chair, leaning over, and placing a loud, forceful kiss on Jane’s cheek.