Hellcat

Chapter 12

Abraham Bennett

My four am alarm wakes me for my usual Sunday morning run. I move on autopilot, lacing up my Nike running shoes, wristwatch, and my jacket. Like I do every morning, I head into Josh's room first to check on him. He's not in bed. Not a shock. He usually sneaks back into the house latest by six o'clock. My parents never suspect a thing about him. Or they do but choose not to talk about it. 

From Josh's room, my next stop is the kitchen. Where I grab a bottle of water and I'm about to head out when I hear a scuttling sound in the kitchen. Placing my bottle of water on the black marble counter, I enter the pantry, expecting to catch a rat but find a living creature much bigger both in size and peskiness. 

"Josh."

He's sitting on a crate of grape juice from Uncle Carter's organic produce company, jamming his mouth with cookies. "I got hungry, " he explains, cookie crumbs falling out his mouth and landing in dust waves on his shirt. 

"Why are you dressed like a bank robber?" I ask, noticing the full black outfit he's wearing. Indiscreetly, he tries to slip something into his back pocket. I circle my hand around his wrist and snatch the thing he was trying to hide. 

"A Richard Nixon mask? Really?" I can't even believe what I'm seeing.

"I thought it was cool, " Josh huff's defensive although from the way he decidedly crams more cookies into his mouth I know he has given up on the squabble. 

"Get out of here before mom wakes, " I say, irritated then walk out of the pantry, leaving the door wide open despite my little brother's protests. I want him to get caught. So my dad can quit blaming the non-existent rats for the speedy rate at which we run out of snacks in our house.

I check the garage to be sure my car is in one-piece. Satisfied that everything is in order, I plug in my earpiece and start my run. 

It rained yesterday. That long heavy rain that tells you summer truly has come to its end and it is time to embrace autumn. Because of that, the path is damp with recent rain and my feet punch gracefully on the pavement. 

I live in a peaceful suburban neighbourhood with lots of friendly but nosy neighbours all wanting to know the latest in each other's lives. That's why I go for my run so early in the day, I don't want to be interrupted by a woman walking her dog or a guy washing his car.

The autumn air is fresh and crisp, invigorating. I maintain my speed, my breathing steady, iPod tunes in my ears pounding loudly. 

This is my time to think. 

And so I think. 

I think about the day I made the horrible mistake of joining those boys to break into the biomedical institution. And that guy Drake just had to be an i***t and take a smoke while using highly flammable spray paint. I still remember how the building lit up. Everything went to flames. I didn't run, because I didn't know how to. I was a good kid caught doing a bad thing. My father was only too happy to reimburse the university for the damages. But he insisted that I also paid them back. Which is how I got looped into community service. 

I think about basketball. About how we have our first game of the fall season against out long time enemies Rastin High next week. 

I think about Allo Voices. The boys who used to be my family. The Allo Voices had always been a close-knit family. But now that I have a different training schedule, the only time we see each other is when we're performing together. I don't even know how we manage to synchronize so smoothly when we hardly train together anymore. I guess the parts of a whole always sums up perfectly. We mostly perform on Sunday's at my dad's church. But we get gigs to perform at other churches and religious events both instate and out of it. 

I think about my family. About my dad who won't stop pressuring me to join the army. Because of him, I don't even know what to do with my life. I'm smart enough to venture into science. Athletic enough to take up professional basketball. My voice is good enough for a singing career. But my heart isn't really into any of that stuff. My interest had always been in outer space. The bigger world out there. Nerdy as it sounds. It's just my luck that I'm so good at other things that distract me from what I really want. 

But I can't blame all that on my father. He's a good man, a disciplinarian, but I know he loves me. And he has his days of pampering though they rarely come and when they do they come in such twisted forms that it's hard to tell whether he's being sarcastic or indulgent. 

I think about my mother. Who has recently started a knitting club for the women in our neighbourhood and has already made an extremely hideous scarf for me. But I love her too much to tell her just how ugly I think the scarf is. Winter is far from coming. I hope it doesn't come any time soon because then I won't have any more excuses for why I haven't worn the scarf out yet. 

I think about my big brother Timothy. Tim is such a successful guy. His wife Ashley is pregnant with their first kid. He has a job as a federal agent, but most of it is redacted so he never talks about it. Tim hardly calls. He had already left for college when I was born, so we're not really close. I always wonder what it is like to have a big brother close to home that I can talk to. 

The only person who knows that feeling is Josh. Because the age difference between us really isn't much. But Josh and I are more like best friends. I remember asking my mother to let me carry him when I was only two years old and he now learning crawl. He was the sweetest most adorable baby ever. But now that baby has grown into a teenage boy. 

I worry about Josh all the time. He does not take anything seriously. Getting kicked off the soccer team was his breaking point. He turned into this narcissistic lackadaisical monster. But it seems meeting Wilder had brought back some of his old passions. 

Wilder. That girl is weird. First, she tricked me into agreeing to come to Keith's party. Only for me to never actually see her at the paryt. Well except when she was passed out on the floor and I had to carry her over to my house. She looked so peaceful in her sleep. I spent close to an hour just sitting at the edge of my bed staring at her. Until I realised how wrong that was then I locked the door and went to crash in Josh's room since I knew he would never his Friday night there. And the next morning she repaid my kindness by holding me at knifepoint. But I was not even upset about it. 

She's such a weird girl. But she's good for Josh. So I guess I'm cool with their friendship. 

My sudden spurts of speed cause me to crash earlier than I would have expected. 

My feet pound the tarmac with all the grace of a sack of wet concrete, the springing graceful steps of sixteen miles earlier have long since disappeared. My rasping throat is as parched as a dead lizard in the desert sun. My head bobs loosely from side to side with each footfall and my eyes feel heavy in their sockets. 

I practically collapse onto the metal bench when I arrive at the community basketball court. It's empty at this time of the day. I have used only forty minutes to get here. I can use half that time to get back. So I decide to take a break.

I splash half of the water in my mouth to quench the dryness that plagues my throat and the other half I pour over my head, matting my already wet hair to my face and my clothes which were sticking to my body with sweat, now stick with water as well. 

Rising to my feet, I shake head vigorously, like a dog after a shower, then slump back on the bench.

I relax for only a few minutes, then, rising to my feet, I run my and through my hair and turn in the direction I came from.

Time to go back home. 

"Good morning Abe, " mom greets when I walk into the kitchen twenty-something minutes later. 

"Morning mom, " I greet going over the island to give her a big kiss on her cheek. 

She chuckles, waving me away when she sees my ulterior motives which were to steal a pancake from the stack she has made. Exercise makes me hungry, don't judge. "Take a shower, you stink."

"Will do, " I salute. "Where is dad?"

"Oh, your father left for the church early. Said he had some business plans to finalise with the diocese." She answers. 

"Okay, thanks, " I say, making my way out of the kitchen. 

But mom calls me at the last minute. "And Abe?"

"Yeah?" I smile patiently. 

"Could wake Josh up for me? I tried but he wouldn't budge."

"Will do." Waking Josh up is one of my least favourite tasks. Instead of bothering with the usual gentle shakes and stern orders, I skip right to the harsh noise part. Going over to where he lays crumpled on the left corner of his bed like a fallen angel, I clap my hands loudly in his ears. 

Josh jumps open, eyes wide and alert as he looks around. His shoulders slump and his eyes glare when they settle on my figure which is oscillating with quiet laughter. 

"Good morning, " I stifle through all the giggles. 

"Go away, " he groans, grabbing the end of the duvet and pulling it over his body, and covering his ear with a pillow. 

"Five minutes, " I say and walk out of his room. 

I return five minutes later when I'm done preparing my outfit for church service. 

Unsurprisingly, Josh is still asleep. 

Shaking my head in laughter I head downstairs. 

"Josh still asleep?" Mom asks. 

"Uh-huh, " I answer, grabbing a bucket of ice cubes from the freezer. 

"Are those for him?" She asks while staring at the items I came for. She looks more amused than concerned, which she should be. 

"Yes, please."

"It's very important to get creative in the solutions to our problems, " that's my mom's way of telling me she approves of the stunt I'm about to pull. "But we must be careful because some of these radical solutions may result in us getting hurt as well."

She's warning me of the wrath I'll incur by my actions. But I'm not afraid of my little brother. And so I go on with the plan. 

"Joshua St Clair Bennett, wake up right this instant, " I say sternly. Josh doesn't stir in bid sleep. I grin because the truth is I would have been disappointed if I didn't get the chance to do what I'm about to do. 

"You were warned, " I say and throw the covers off his body. Josh likes to sleep shirtless. I stare at his bare chest, then pick an ice cube from the small bucket in my hand. Carefully, I drop it on his chest. 

He flinches to life. 

Just for the fun of it, I drop a few more ice cubes on his chest. They slid down his chest, four falls to the bed. One enters his boxers. I can't imagine the pain of a block of ice on his morning wood. 

Josh screams. 

This time, I can not control my laughter. 

He glares at me. Viciously. "You're about to turn me into a murderer Abe Bennett."

The church is large, made in the Victorian era by Victorian architects who had the sense to include norman arches, heavy iron-bound doors and a bell tower in the beautiful old stone building. The high-arched windows are made of stained glass. The floor is made of encaustic tiles and the walls everywhere are white. There is a brief scent of incense, candles and more solidly the smell of musty prayer books. The mosaics of Christ and the virgin Mary are many on the walls and kaleidoscopic windows which reflect their multi-coloured light in streams from the bright yellow sun outside. A stone statue of a woman and her baby is in front of the Gothic-splendour church building, guiding lost souls into the house of the Lord.

But I am not a lost soul.

And this church on twenty-third Orchard Street has been my home for as long as I can remember. My father is the minister here. He has been for the last twenty-five years. The Lighthouse Episcopal Church is his legacy.

I sit in the west vestibule with the other members of the Allo Voices choir. The service isn't scheduled to begin for another ten minutes. Ms Pemberly has wandered off to talk to my father and most of the boys are talking or practising their scales mentally.

I used to be close to these guys. But when I started basketball and had a different training schedule from the others, it made it kind of impossible to keep in contact with them. And even though most of us go to Westreet Prep, our schedules barely intercept. I mean sure I have gym class with Nicholas our lead bass singer, and music with Damien (our lovely soprano) but that's it.

I take the opportunity to go through my to-do list. I spent the whole of yesterday completing homework assignments for the next two weeks so I can focus on basketball and singing for a while. There's also community service to think about but that has been limited to a maximum of four hours a day to stretch out the time needed to complete the garden.

I really don't want to add the school play to my list of concerns. I'm too young to be this stressed. But at the same time, I love everything I do, I don't want to give any of it up. 

I don't have much time to ponder over my conflicting thoughts because Ms Pemberly bad arrived and it's time for us to join the processional hymn. Adjusting the tassel on my hag, I can't help but think to myself, this is going to be a long service.

Josh is eerily quiet during lunch. I have made sure to lock up everything that is important to me, I don't need him destroying any of my stuff while incandescent with rage. In the meantime, I have been watching my back very closely. Josh doesn't like to waste time when exacting his revenge. That means I won't be safe for long. 

"Please pass the ketchup, " Josh asks sweetly. 

After hearing about the accident that occurred this morning, mom decided to make Josh's favourite food, shrimp scampi to make him feel better. He eats his shrimp with lots of ketchup. And J can't even tell whether it's just ketchup or there's something else in the sauce he's eating. 

I hand him the bottle. "Here."

"Thank you, Abe, " he smiles. 

I am more than a little creeped out by his kindness. It is not what I was expecting at all. When mom asks for help to clear out the dishes, both Josh and I jump at the offer to help. Me, to escape his presence and him? I don't even know. Josh hates work, so why is he now volunteering for it?

Mom smiles to herself, knowing something I don't. "Abe, you can send the dishes to the kitchen. Josh, you can bring in the dessert. I made a pecan meringue cake."

"Yes, please, " Josh says, standing up. 

I nod stiffly and begin gathering the dirty dishes. Dad has been quiet all throughout the meal. He only said a word or two during the car drive. I guess now that Josh is actually practising table etiquette dad has little else to nag about. 

A few minutes later, we are around the table with played of cake and cups of coffee in front of us. 

I stick my fork into the cake and taste it. "This is good, " I say to mom. 

"Yes, it is, " Josh says. But he hasn't eaten it. Come to think of it, neither have my parents. 

"What's going on?" I ask, sensing a shift in the air. 

"I'd like to know the same thing, " dad says. 

"Josh, " mom says sternly. "What did you do?"

He smirks. "Revenge is a dish best served cold."

Uh-oh.

"What did you do Josh?" Mom demands. 

"I may or may not have laced the cake with coconut juice when you left it on the counter to cool."

"You did what?" I scream but it comes out as a rasp because my breath is shortening. Josh knows I'm allergic to coconut. But would he go this far to get revenge? Yes. He would. 

"Josh, what were you thinking?" Mom cries. 

I try to speak but it's becoming difficult to even breath. My skin has red and slouchy and I can feel the hives forming all over my arms and legs. 

"I was thinking he shouldn't have poured ice cubes down my pants this morning. There are more thoughtful ways to wake up a person."

"Abraham needs help, " dad announces, standing up and making his way to the medicine cabinet in the hallway.

"Don't bother. I've got his Piriton right here."

"Well, what are you waiting for boy? Give it to him."

"No. Do you have any idea how painful it was to have that ice cube on my balls? They were stiff for hours. It's his turn suffer."

And I am suffering. I can barely breathe now, my airways are swollen. I feel discomfort in my stomach and before I can get to the bathroom, I throw up all over mom's new Persian rub. I sigh, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. 

"I'm sorry, " I rasp out. "I'm sorry Josh."

He smiles. "I know, " he says simply, sliding the bottle over the table to where I'm sitting. I grab the box desperately and pop two pills in my mouth. I swallow them without acknowledging the dryness in my throat. 

"His many months do you think we  ground him?" Dad asks, glaring as Josh angrily. 

Mom sighs, gazing at me. Then she looks at Josh. "Is forever too short?" 

Josh gulps. 

I remember something mom said to me only this morning. But we must be careful because some of these radical solutions may result in us getting hurt as well.

It seemed Josh was going to experience the same thing. Only at the not so merciful hands of a mother who was scared to death for the life of her child. 

"Let's get Abe to the hospital first. He might need a little more treatment considering his reaction this time was more serious than the other times."

"That's because I used half a cup of coconut milk, " Josh explains. "I didn't mean to kill you."

"But you could have. In your anger do not sin. Homicide is a sin."

"Of course you will preach to me at a time like this." Josh scoffs. "And I've read the statistics on deaths related to allergic reactions. Less than two per cent of people die from anaphylaxis."

"Two per cent my son could have been a part of!" Dad bellows. "We have had enough out of you Josh. Go your room."

"Fine, " he snaps childish, stomping away. 

I sigh. "I'm okay dad. Josh made a mistake, but I think he has been punished enough. I have to go to service. I'll talk to him later tonight."

My parents exchange an uneasy look, dad shrugs then agree. He too does not like punishing his son. I would hate for Josh to get in trouble with our parents because of me.

"At least promise you will go to the hospital tomorrow after school to be sure you're done?"

I smile at my mother. She does not need to worry about me. But she does. "I will, " I promise. 

I shower again, change into a fresh set of clothes then check on my parents downstairs before heading out. 

I get to the Happy Sunny Charity in a matter of minutes and I park in their employee parking lot since technically I work there now. When I get my stuff from the labour shed and head over to our plot, I find Wilder already there. 

She has begun building a raised bed and has made quite a lot of progress. 

I open my mouth to comment because I honestly thought her heart wasn't into the project we are doing but she silences me with the raise of a hand. 

When she turns around, I notice the dark circles under her eyes. She looks aged since I last saw her yesterday morning and she is visibly upset. I don't know what has unsettled her this way. 

How long has she been here?

"Don't ask."