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Deborah's Choice
Alethea Eason
I always thought my family was strange, but Willy's family seemed weirder than mine. Willy and I were both in Mr. Bartlett's fifth grade class. I went to his house one day after school to work on a skit about Deborah Sampson, a woman soldier in the Revolutionary War. I chose her because Deborah's the name I go by. It's the closest name in English to my real one, which is impossible for people to pronounce.
Willy was going to be a redcoat. We had to make sure we included at least three facts about the war. I imagined I'd say something like, "Take this for all those brave lads who gave up their lives at Valley Forge," as I bayoneted him in the gut. One fact down.
It was the beginning of October, the first day of Halloween, according to Willy. He was excited because his dad and Margie, his dad's girlfriend, just announced they were getting married. I was the only kid at school who knew that the wedding was going to take place at ten minutes before midnight on Halloween in the Prattville graveyard.
Of course I thought this was a bit odd, but I wasn't prepared for what I saw as I walked into their living room. Willy's family didn't have a couch. Instead, a set of three coffins were lined up in front of their television set. Each had a big pillow for a backrest. I could tell which coffin was Willy's right away; it was the shortest. I wondered if he grew out of his coffin the way I did shoes, and had to have a new one every six months or so.
Willy saw the look on my face. "They're really comfortable. It's a shame to waste them on the dead." He said this like it was the family's standard response to all their guests.
Since it was a nice day, we went out to the patio to work. Margie brought us glasses of lemonade. I put mine to the side, hoping I didn't appear rude. I had expected her to look like an Elvira wannabe. I was disappointed when she turned out to be the standard mom, a little chubby, with a bright, cheerful smile. The only thing that gave away her fondness for the season was a pair of skeleton earrings that hung down to her shoulders. But heck, our school secretary had some just like them.
She listened to the ideas we had so far. I mean, she really listened. She crossed her arms and a little wrinkle appeared on her forehead to show she was thinking.
"You need more dramatic tension."
"Like what?" I asked.
"Well, except for Native Americans, we're all immigrants in this country."
I felt myself grow red. My family were immigrants. I guess you could say we were illegal immigrants. Though we had "assimilated" (a word on next Friday's spelling test), the government didn't know we were here, though. no one would ever have guessed. My parents spoke English flawlessly, along with several other languages, including Chinese. I never found out how they learned that one, but Mom said it would come in handy when the others arrived.
There were just a couple of things that would give away our origin, which we spent a considerable amount of effort hiding.
"During the Revolution, only about a third of the population supported it," Margie said. "A third didn't have strong feelings one way or the other, and a third supported the British."
"So?" Willy asked.
"Well, if the young man that Deborah kills was a childhood friend, you've created a richer story."
"The skit is only supposed to last a minute," Willy said. "It's not an epic."
"No, but we've got our second fact," I said. "Thanks, Margie."
Willy found our third fact in an encyclopedia: the British soldiers forced themselves into the homes of the colonists, making them house and feed them. Then, they'd rip off stuff like their milk cows and chickens.
"Made people angry," Willy said, "especially when they took the food."
By the time I left, we had a script.
__________
When I came home, my parents were shut up in the den. The door was closed and their voices were muffled, but my dad sounded excited.
"It's time!" I heard him shout.
Mom seemed to be arguing with him, but I couldn't make out any more of the conversation. When it sounded like they were finishing, I rushed to the kitchen table and opened my books, pretending I was studying, just in time for them to walk in.
Dad's face was red, the way it gets when he's latched on to an idea he won't let go of. Mom looked as though she had been crying.
"Anything wrong?" I asked.
"No," Dad said.
"Yes," Mom said.
"We'll explain later," Dad said. "I'm glad to see you've finally discovered the importance of homework."
"Uh, Dad..."
I tried to get his attention, but he began lecturing for the hundredth time about why I had to learn all about American culture and how I would use this knowledge someday to be a leader among our kind.
"Dad." I pointed to his head.
One of his tentacles had popped out. They do that sometimes when he gets agitated. He reached up and shoved it back in. Mom doesn't let him out of the house without a hat.
__________
Willy and I were due to perform our skit on the fifteenth of Halloween. Willy had begun dating his papers this way. Mr. Bartlett told him to stop. Willy refused, saying it was his constitutional right to celebrate holidays in the way he believed.
"We don't get to the Constitution until March," Mr. Bartlett said.
What really upset him was that since October had started, every few days Willy added something ghoulish to his wardrobe. By the fifteenth, he came to school in a Dracula cape, one of Margie's skeletons dangled from an earlobe, and his hair was frizzed as though he had stuck a finger in a light socket. Margie had painted his fingernails black. They were especially long because he hadn't cut them since July.
Willy had promised me that he'd take everything off except the nail polish when it came time to do the skit. Margie had even found a red jacket at a garage sale for him to wear. The question was would Willy still be in class.
"Remove those items now," Mr. Bartlett ordered, "and comb your hair.".
"I have the right to wear what I want. It's guaranteed in the Bill of Rights."
"My classroom is not a democracy. Take those things off, or you'll go to the principal's office."
Willy stood up with more dignity than I thought possible, considering how he was dressed, flung his backpack over his shoulder, and walked out of the room.
The class was silent. There goes my A, I thought.
Willy didn't return. I ended up doing the skit with Gregory Green, who was an okay alternate, but he didn't have Willy's flair for acting. Willy and I had everything memorized, but Gregory, of course, needed to read from the script.
__________
Deborah's Choice
DEBORAH:
Curse you, Johnny, for betraying your people. You've joined the British army and have stolen all our winter provisions. How dare you wear that red coat!
JOHNNY:
I believe in the King's cause. As do my parents. Not everyone in the colonies are rebels like you. This food is needed (Johnny pulls out a chicken from a bag) for the troops loyal to Britain.
Though Gregory's reading was lackluster, he pulled out the rubber chicken on cue.
DEBORAH:
The battle rages over the hill. (Deborah puts her hand to her ear).
JOHNNY:
I must join the King's forces.
DEBORAH:
Oh, no you don't. Even though I grew up with you (dramatic tension), I can't allow you, to steal from us. Take this for all the brave lads who gave up their lives at Valley Forge. (Deborah stabs Johnny. Johnny dies.)
__________
I had to use several paper towel rolls taped end to end to fake the bayonet, but I think it was effective enough. Gregory fell to the floor; and the class cheered.
I got my A after all, but it belonged to Willy as much as it did to me.
__________
After school I went to Willy's house. Margie let me in. Willy's dad was sitting in one of the coffins talking to someone on the telephone. The living room was now draped with spiders webs and plastic bats hung from the ceiling like Christmas ornaments.
"He's phoning the American Civil Liberties Union to see if we can get a lawyer to argue our case," Margie said. She was beginning to look more like Morticia than Elvira. Her long black dress rustled as she led me to the kitchen. "We're going to fight Willy's suspension."
Willy was at the counter. I sat next to him. Margie put a plate of chocolate chip cookies between us and went back into the living room.
"Sorry about what happened," I said.
"Did you do the skit?"
"Gregory took your part, but I wished you had been there. The kids loved the chicken." I was trying to cheer him up.
"We should have chopped its head off and had fake blood dribble out of the neck."
"That would have been cool."
Willy picked up a cookie. "You're not eating any of these?"
I had to think of something fast. "I don't want to spoil my appetite."
"You're kidding."
I just smiled and shook my head.
"Do you think your parents would let you come to the wedding?" Willy looked so earnest.
"I'm invited?"
"Your whole family can come, if they want," Margie called from her coffin.
My parents had such old-world views I wasn't sure I could talk them into it, but I decided I was going to try. The night in question was a little dicey, but I figured they might be able to fit it into their plans.
__________
To my surprise, Dad said he'd be delighted to go, but then a tentacle popped out. I should have figured out what was going on.
The big day was on a Saturday. Willy called me twice. The first time he was excited about the wedding details. The cake had just arrived. The frosting was all black and there was a vampire bride and groom on top.
Willy was going trick-or-treating before they went to the cemetery. He asked if I wanted to go along.
"I'm sorry. Family plans," I said.
The second time he was even more excited. A lawyer for the ACLU had just called to say he'd take his case. Willy would be going back to school dressed like the other kids on Monday, but he had seven more years in the Prattville school system to deal with.
That afternoon, Mom called me into her bedroom. Since it was Halloween, I wasn't surprised that she let a few tentacles protrude. My family doesn't have a thing for Halloween, but it's convenient for us. Our metabolism is slow, so we need to feed only once a year. Since people think we're in costume, we use the night to our advantage.
Mom and Dad have always gone out and brought back food for me, but Mom told me that Dad had decided that I was old enough to hunt for myself. She said she wanted to protect me a little longer, but she had to accept that I was growing up.
"I know how fond you are of the humans," Mom said. "It's getting harder for me each year. They can be so endearing. But your dad reminded me that the rest of us will be here soon."
"He says that every year."
"I know, dear," she said, reaching out to stroke me, "but you know he's right. When the rest get here, we'll have to conquer the planet. There won't be any room to be sentimental."
I thought about what I had been learning in history. "But, Mom, that's no way for a democracy to work."
"The home world is not a democracy."
Mr. Bartlett came to mind. Maybe we could eat him. Then I knew what Dad was planning.
"Mom, I can't eat Willy's family."
Mom crossed two of her tentacles. "Sweetie, you're going to have to do a lot of things you don't like before long."
I tried not to think of our feeding frenzy, about what I had to do to survive. But every year when Mom and Dad brought dinner home, my DNA took over and I ate until the sun came up. After a few days, it always seemed like it never happened. Up until now, it wasn't personal. I never ate anyone I knew. They were always very careful about that.
__________
Later that night, my parents dragged me to the cemetery. The theme seemed to be vampires. I felt out of place with my tentacles sticking out.
Willy's job was to welcome the guests. He was also going to be his dad's best man. He looked nice in his tuxedo with his hair slicked back. The white makeup and fangs became him. My stomachs started to rumble. As much as I didn't want to, I was getting hungry. I told myself I wouldn't feed, no matter what happened, but deep down I knew once it had begun I wouldn't be able to stop myself.
You can't get better dramatic tension than this, I thought. Classmate eats best friend for the good of her species.
Willy came up to us. "Great costumes. Look, we're about to start. I'll talk to you later."
"Sure thing," I said.
A funeral march began to drift eerily over the gravestones. I nudged my way up in front so that I could see. Willy and his dad stood underneath a black awning that had "Margie and Fred, Forever" written on it in fluorescent paint that sparkled in the moonlight.
Margie glided out of a crypt to our left. Everyone let out a sigh. She looked beautiful. She wore a black lace wedding gown and a veil made out of diaphanous webbing. She carried a bouquet of black lilies.
The two of them had written their own vows, all about loving and cherishing and promising to haunt the other when death did them part. I was getting more and more nervous because I knew as soon as they kissed, my parents were going to pounce.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw one of Dad's tentacles hover over the old guy next to me. Margie's father, I found out later. I could see the rows of teeth being exposed. It was all I could do to keep my tentacles shut.
Just then, a floodlight hit us. Dad withdrew the tentacle fast. A voice called out from a bullhorn: "Just what do you think you're doing there?"
In all the confusion of the wedding plans, they forgot to get a permit to use the cemetery. Police were everywhere, but it didn't take long to get things worked out. Pretty soon the officers were chowing down on wedding cake. My parents and I were starving, but now that the authorities were there we had to lie low.
I couldn't help what happened next. Mom said it's because I'm growing and when I have to eat, I have to eat. I followed one of the policemen to his car. My tentacles encircled him, and I began to feed.
My parents were able to get me out of there before anyone saw me. We fed on what was left on the way home, and got back just before another policeman knocked on our door. He told us one of the officers was missing, and he wanted to check to see if we were okay.
Mom had just enough time to throw a hat on Dad's head. It bobbled a bit, but the policeman didn't notice. "We decided not to stay for the reception. It's way past our daughter's bedtime."
Actually, I was ready for bed by then. There was just one problem.
"I'm still hungry," I said on the way to my room.
Mom kissed me good night. "I'm sure something will work out, dear."
__________
Willy was at school on Monday. He ran up to me on the playground.
"Thanks for coming to the wedding," he said. "I looked for you after the ceremony."
"My parents wanted to get me home."
"Weird about that policeman, huh? They still haven't found him."
My stomachs growled at the thought. One human for the three of us just hadn't been enough. "Yeah, weird."
The bell rang, and we walked to class together.
"Hey, Margie wants to know if you and your folks would like to come over for Thanksgiving dinner," Willy said as we lined up.
It was then I made my decision. Mom was right. I couldn't afford to be sentimental. Thanksgiving was what--- three weeks away? I could hold out that long.
"We'd be glad to," I said. "Tell her we'll bring dessert."