The Silver Necklace

it's a long short story about a boy who's father died of cancer, and his mother is very unstable and doesn't take care of the kids

I ran as if my legs weren’t even part of my body. My heart pounded in my ears to the beat of my feet slapping the pavement. My brain was numb as my legs bolted faster than I could ever imagine. I had only started to process what was happening.

I blamed my dad for dying. I blamed Jake for telling on me. I blamed myself for punching him. I blamed God for running the world in his weird distorted way.

As I felt the anger bubbling inside of me, I thought why do people have to die? Why are kids so mean? Every pore in my body ached from hurt, loss, and suffering. Those kids can get you in just the right spot. Jake and his idiotic cronies. If only they had ever shut up.

They caught me during science class, sobbing my heart out into the bathroom sink. Jake’s best friend, Mike, nicknamed Tuffie, was using the urinal to the far right of the bathroom, left of the sink. He called Jake and the rest of the group to come here, to taunt me.

“Go cry cuz’ your wittle papa gone to heaven,” He said in a mocking tone. Before thinking I walked over to him, drew back my fist, and punched him in the face with all the strength I could muster. Blood spurted from his nose as Tuffie and the rest of the gang started to beat me. The kid standing right of Tuffie was about to lunge on top of me. I ran away just in time but he grabbed my pants and ripped the seam on the side so hard that my pants fell down. A little kindergartener saw me trying to awkwardly cover myself, laughed, and brought her older sister to scold me for not wearing pants.

She eyed me a little uncertainly, kind of how you would look at a monster, but without the fear. I tried to pull my pants up, but it was useless; it had been ripped down the entire seam. While I made a run for it, Jake and his group told the principal what had happened, carefully going around the edges of why I punched him. “Stephen,” came a shout from my best friend, Matthew. “Wait up!”but I ignored him. Some kids laughed at me on the way home. If only they could feel like I felt that second. That would wipe that puny little smile off their stupid faces. I came home and my mother didn’t do so much as raise an eyebrow. She had completely shut me out since father died.

I plopped on my bed and started crying my eyes out waiting for the “honey, what’s the matter?” Which will never come. Since dad died, my mom lost everything: her ability to take care of children, care about someone else, even the will to live. When Father was alive, she was different. She was a mother, who was tuned into the world and everyone around her. Not anymore.

If I came home like this with my pants torn, before dismissal, she would make me hot cocoa and graham crackers in front of the fire. Now, not even a raised eyebrow.  The turmoil between us has been getting greater by the hour. I was sick of the world.

I came downstairs, and she didn’t even look up. She just left the living room. I sunk into the chair she just left, and surveyed my surroundings.  I never noticed the crack in the wall, just above the radiator. The radiator hissed in agreement that this house was too quiet. Way too quiet.

I remember the funeral as if it was yesterday, but in actuality, it was three weeks ago. The saying ‘time heals wounds’ really isn’t true. The pain is fresh like an open wound, not like a picked at scab.The ministers were burying him in such an formal way, I knew Father would have hated it. He would like to be buried with a coffin the shape of a beaker. I know that for a fact, because we were discussing coffin shapes after I read a book on mummies. We were in his lab, while he was jotting down notes and looking at a brain with a microscope.

His lab used to have a white floor, but one Saturday we splatter painted it using a bunch of toothbrushes and throwing them around the room. Some paint also got on the walls and the big, gray desk in the middle of the room. His desk is the messiest desk I have ever seen in my life. It is covered in random papers, and a ginormous stack of all these files of past experiments on the corner that looks like its about to topple over, which it does, very often.

I remember, when we went to the catskills in the summer, we would lay on our backs and counts stars. He could go up to 4,980 while I can barely make it to 600. We had so much fun together. After we would take out a telescope and look at jupiter. That was my lucky planet. Whenever I had a test, I brought a little jupiter keychain to school that me and dad made together out of clay.

Father died from cancer at the age of 37. On his deathbed, his last words were I...lo...ove…y-. He died right then. I’m exhausted from thinking too much. I turned out the light and fell into a deep sleep, right there on the rocking chair. I leaned back and the foot rest sprouted from the front. It was blissful. No cares. No worries. No tests. No bullies. I was free.

The next day, I woke up late. No one carried me up to bed anymore. I didn’t feel like facing school today and had no one to force me to. So I went up to my room and plopped down onto my bed. I lay in bed, trying as hard as I can not to think. Of course, that never works. I turned over and faced the ceiling.

It was a shade of baby blue so light that it is practically white. The walls have murals of galaxies and planets. Me and my dad did it together. We were known as “the artists in the family”, even though all I had was a baby sister, Amy, who slept practically all day. Our town park owners once let us paint on the handball courts. I remember that Saturday, I just came back from little league baseball, and we went to the town hardware store and got lots of paints and brushes of any size. We had so much fun.

I wish I was a book character that some fairy godmother comes and grants me three wishes and they will come true; I have my wishes ready and I would say them in less than a heartbeat: that my father would come back to life, the world would be rid of bullies, and that I would not have to suffer another loss again. People don’t know what they have until they lose it. It’s true. No one can possibly know how precious family is until it’s gone.

I felt jealous of the people who have a caring family. But if I can’t have it, at least other people should be able to enjoy it. I pray for them every night. People should enjoy what they have, and not let time slip away. Time is the enemy.

I drifted off to sleep.

I woke up with a gross taste in my mouth. I realized that I never brushed my teeth yet this morning. Walking to the bathroom like a zombie, I felt along the walls for the light switch. I found it and flicked it on. The light blinded me momentarily. Blinking a couple of times, I found myself being able to see. I took my toothbrush out of the cabinet just above the sink. After spreading a thick layer of toothpaste on top of the rough bristles of my toothbrush, I put it in my mouth.

My mouth tasted like mint as I gave it a good scrubbing. The big bottle of mouthwash was sitting on the top shelf in that cabinet. I took it down and gave it a big shake. It bubbled then settled down. I poured it into the cap, as I always do. I dumped the contents into my mouth. It hurt a little as I swished it near my cold sore.

I undressed and turned on the shower. I waited until the water heated up, and went in. The hot water felt good running down my body. I poured the shampoo into my hand and let it drip along the creases. I ran my wet, shampooed hands through my short hair. It spiked up and I smoothed down the sides to make it look like a mohawk. I washed the shampoo out and cleansed myself with the slippery soap bar. I turned off the water and went out of the shower.

I took the soft towels off the rack and wrapped myself inside it’s warmth. I went back to my bedroom and got out my clothes from off the rack. I put on this super weird T-shirt my grandma thought is supposed to be for kids my age. It’s red with little stars that say ‘my grandma’s little superhero’. I never dared wear it in front of my friends, which is probably why it was still in the package. The jeans I’m wearing is the ones my dad and I bought before school. I stared at my reflection in the mirror. I saw a redhead staring back at me. He was wearing a weird T-shirt with cool jeans. It made a good match. he was about medium height. My father, unlike most parents, actually know what the style is these days. We got these ripped jeans from old navy and if I remember correctly, it was called ‘distressed skinny girlfriend’.

My dad and I always joked about that girlfriend, and we both felt bad for her. My dad told me that when it’s ripped, they call it distressed, and the skinny girlfriend part is because it is skinny jeans and apparently you wear this type of pants when you go out. I still dont get that part. One time, on Saturday morning, I was really bored and tried to imagine that distressed skinny girlfriend. I drew a little girl of five years standing outside with rainboots and an umbrella in a puddle on a cold, dreary morning.

I slipped out of the house and went to the neighborhood park to the swings. Then I realize, today is the nature reserve field trip, which I definitely don't want to miss. I ran straight to school and hoped the bus didn’t leave yet. I came just as the classes were getting on. A teacher was standing to my left and ushering everyone in. I was last and hoped I wasn’t seen. The principal noticed me.

I braced myself for the punishment, and hoped she didn’t tell me I couldn’t go. Instead, she just smiled at me and said “Thank you for coming today, Stephen.” I looked back at her, and for the first time in forever, smiled.

That little four year old who laughed at me yesterday was arguing about how to pronounce the word ‘cacao’. She said it was pronounced ‘cacoa as in mayo’ but her friend, Isabella, said it was pronounced ‘caCOW’. It reminds me of how we used to be. like life was back to normal.

I scanned the bus looking for Matthew. I found him in the back and plopped myself into his seat. Matthew is a sensitive guy, but not sensitive about himself, just other people’s feelings. He decided not to mention  yesterday, and went on a rant about how it BETTER not rain, because all the other times it rained and the trip was cancelled.

It was a short bus ride of 15 minutes. It was humid and we overheard some teachers saying that it probably will rain today. It better not.

We finally got off the bus and swarmed like a pack of gnats in a giant mush near the entrance. The grass was still wet with dew and got my converses soaking. oh well.

A teacher was shouting hoarsely with a megaphone, trying to get everyone’s attention. She can barely be heard over the noise and chatter. Another teacher, Mr. carter, who has the loudest voice in the school, didn’t even need the megaphone. He just shouted “ EVERYONE LISTEN UP!!!”. All was quiet. you could hear a pin drop. Creepy.

On a quieter tone, he continued “you can have an  2 hour to walk around and explore. Partner up with someone who has a watch. Meet us at the picnic table when the hour is up.” Almost as soon as she said ‘up’, the chatter rose immensely. Different kids arguing over where to go first, different groups shoving to get through the gates. Matthew and I ran out of the mob in order not to get run over by the kids streaming out the gates.

“Want to rent a boat,” he said with a mischievous grin. “C’mon! It’ll be fun!” That is also why I like him so much. He is so carefree and extremely mischievous. I replied with a broad smile. Instead of going through the mob of kids, we just climbed over the fence. We saw a teacher looking at us, and instead of telling us not to, he gave us an admiring look which said ‘how come I didn’t think of that?’. The clouds cleared. That was a good sign. The bounce to my step just became slightly bigger.

We had to double back around to get to the boats so no one would see us. I hoped that we wouldn’t get in trouble. The only reason we weren’t allowed to was because last year, we went even though it was raining and cold. Some kid went boating, and his hands slipped on the wet paddles, and he accidentally tipped the boat over and got hypothermia.

We went around some teacher’s trying to control the mob of kids still attempting to get through those tiny gates. Only half of the kids in our school had gone through. We passed by the kindergarteners and little elementary school kids standing in lines waiting patiently for us to finish going through. A teacher to my left said “let’s show the big kids how we behave quietly”.

I was in fits of laughter when we came to the rent-a-boat shack, I could barely speak; I was in tears. Matthew was looking at me as if I was from planet Mars or something. “Whoa, dude. Calm down.” The man behind the counter smiled at us and asked us what we would like. I was on my hands and knees unable to answer. Matthew answered for me, “How much to rent a boat for an hour?” I had calmed down and stood up and asked what kinds of boats he has. He answered both of our questions. “we have paddle boats and kayaks. It will cost nine dollars for a full hour,” he answered. We pooled in our money and tried to see what we could come up with. “... five dollars seventy-eight, dollar seventy-nine…,” Matthew counted. I could only dig up four dollars in quarters and pennies. We had nine dollars and forty-two cents together. We gave the guy the money and added the extra forty-two cents as a tip.

It was a beautiful day. We dragged the kayak to the edge of the lake and gave it a push. Too big of a push. While it was drifting away, Matthew jumped into it, and jammed the paddle into the lake bottom. it was very shallow,so he was still holding onto the middle. “come and get here,” he called with his evil grin. “I am so gonna get you back for this,” I replied with an I’ll-get-you-back-for-that smile, and waded in. i grabbed onto the side of the kayak, and hauled myself over.

I sat down in the seat next to Matthew, and took a paddle. We went really far. I looked at my soccer ball covered watch. Matthew leaned over me. “oh Shreck,” I said. “oh Phiona,” He smirked. “C’mon, seriously, we gotta start heading back,” I said. “Now.” We paddle all the way back as fast as we can, matthew screaming “paddling in the morning, ten times a day let’s go! Get that chicken fat back to the chicken farm, don’t be a chicken let’s go! I said a…” I tried telling him to shush when we got close to civilization, but  don’t think he heard me. It was a miracle we didn’t get into trouble.

I came home that day really hungry. I spooned some applesauce into Amy’s mouth, and made myself a bagel and cream cheese. I glanced at the shopping list. It read: Oj, rye bread, flour, and eggs. Rule was that you go shopping when the list reaches five. I ran upstairs and found my mom in her room. I asked for money to go shopping, and she wordlessly opened her purse and handed me a twenty and a ten, staring into space.

I put Amy in mom’s room, got on my splatter painted roller blades and set out with the shopping list in my left hand, water bottle in my right. I rolled down the block, made a left, and crossed the street. I found Get’n’Go supermarket, found the right stuff, and waited the line patiently, while the lady ahead of me was having a conversation with the cashier about how Mother’s day is in two days. All of a sudden a bright yellow lightbulb just made a ding right above my head.

It was my turn and I quickly put the stuff on the belt and I got the bag, and sped home. I got my wallet and counted what was in it. Fifty. Perfect. Still wearing my roller blades, I crawled up the stairs to my moms room and plopped down the extra money in her lap. I found the baby sleeping on the floor so I took off my roller blades and gently carried Amy to her crib. I doubled back and put on my black Converses, stuffed my metro card in my pocket with my wallet.

I just made the bus just as it was driving away. I hopped on, and stood next to a pole. Anaelle, a girl I always had a crush on was there too. “Steven? why are you here?” She asked. “Why are you here?” I replied. “claires,” She said simply. “Hi five, dude!” I said and put my hand. So did she, but we both put it down and turned around and started whistling. “so, uh anyway,” I started, to break the silence. “Are you going for Mother’s Day?” It took like a half hour to get to Manhattan. good thing there wasn’t traffic, and I live in queens, so it can up to 2  hours to get there. We walked about a block and a half until we got to Claire’s

I made a beeline for the necklace rack, with Anaelle in pursuit. My eyes caught on this sterling silver necklace which in the center was a dolphin arching over a blue pearl. I looked at the price. 58. I slowly put it back on the rack when I noticed the huge forty percent off- mother’s day sale sign hanging on the ceiling. I took again, and waited for Anaelle to finish choosing. She was at the other side of the huge rack. she found one which said ‘best mom ever’ in fancy script in an arch over the Eiffel tower, which is perfect because she is from france, and moved in second grade.

We were wandering around until she spotted the cashier. “race ya there,” she challenged. I accepted. “on your mark...get set...go!” we said together. we nearly toppled over each other when i nearly ran into an old lady. I was winning. I slowed so as not to knock everything off the shelf near the register. “ I won!,” I declared hoarsely, as I stopped to catch my breath. The lady at the cash register smiled at me. I put the necklace on the counter. She scanned it and called out “49.99!” from behind the computer. I took out my wallet and emptied it of it’s contents. anaelle got hers and we left, each of us satisfied with what we got.

It took forever for two days to pass. But in the waiting, I took a square tissue box and covered it in red felt. I shaped out of tin foil the words “I love you”, and glued it onto the box with crazy glue. In the process of that, I accidentally got some on my thumb and pointer, and it took like an hour getting it off. And it hurt. A lot. I made 3D roses out of pink felt and put 3 of them on one corner of the tissue box. It didn’t even look like a tissue box anymore. It looked really nice. Way nicer than I expected. I think this gift is going to do the trick. I found cotton balls and painted them hot pink and put them inside the tissue box, enough to make two layers which cover the bottom. That is just to make it look nicer, and smaller. like a real jewelry box. I found a twig about as long and as thick as my pinky, and used a pocket knife to shave off the bark.

It was all smooth when I was done with it. I tied it on a string, held it by its string, and coated it in crazy glue. It took a long time to locate any confetti bags around my house good thing the crazy glue didn’t dry. I found pink heart confetti and threw it at the stick, over the sink, of course, until it was covered. I cut off the string, cut out a small square of one of my old paper folders. I put pinkish purplelish cellophane over it. The folder was blue, so it made a nice purple. I stuck the stick-with-folder thingy on top of the cotton balls and glued it. I draped the necklace over the stick-and-folder thingy so it was half on and the other half drooping over the folder part, the dolphin just grazing the hot pink cotton balls.

It looked really good. The rest of the time for the day was just thinking about it, feeding Amy, putting her to sleep, and repainting the walls of my room. Every so often I repaint it. Whenever I get bored of it’s color. I plan to make it blue and white stripes, even stripes, so you can’t tell if it is blue with white stripes or white with blue stripes. On one wall I plan to make it all white with blue handprints spelling out ‘Stephen’. But for now I need to go to bed. Tomorrow is Mother’s day and I need to make it come faster.

I woke up with excitement in my stomach. Why? then I remembered that today is mother’s day. I checked to see if mom is awake. She is. but is just lying in bed. I decided I would make a breakfast in bed. I cooked a sunny side up really fast, put it in a tray with the perfect circle fitting with the plate. I had the tray in one hand and the jewelry box in the other. I went into her room quietly and gave my mom the box. “Happy mother’s day,” I said hopefully. Then I brought in the tray. My mom took it, and for the first time in a month, she looked me in the eye, hugged me, and said “I love you”. And I think she really meant it.

Author's Note

please ignore grammar issues and whatever. please rate and reveiw.

Reviews

[Fay Slimm]

Full of interesting detail from a child's viewpoint this short story is a true heart-wrencher. Amy you have adequately captured the sadly hectic life of a deprived youngster trying to look after things at home despite personal grief and a sick mother. A tear-jerker which shows the resilience needed when life decides to knock extra hard on a young heart. An engaging read.

[Shapirta]

wow! thanks!

[Surya pradha]

well written. you've certainly portrayed the story from a child's perception.

[Justin Lee]

I sadly skipped a few parts because I started to get a bit bored. The story is very nice it is very detailed. The only problem is that I really don't feel anything with the character. Ok so he lost his dad, his mother doesn't care about her child anymore, and the other kids bully her. Honestly I don't seem to feel bad or happy or something to this guy. The story is great a bit too slow pace for me. Honestly it is a great really nice story but it's just not meant for a reader like me. I just don't really feel sad for characters unless their life was total s**t for their whole life. Honestly I don't know what a true dad is cause my parents are divorced. So basically this story is good but it could be so much better if you could just add a few more things. But don't feel sad I am a very hard critic. All lot of stories I give 3 or 4 because to me the story is dull but this gain a 7 so good job. But not even my stories get a 10 from me I give them a 5 so you did a very good job.

-Justin

[Shapirta]

thanks justin

[Kevin Manson]

Very detailed and written from the interesting perspective of a child. I had work to do, but absolutely had to finish this story first.

[snow_angel]

Very detailed, it was easy to visualize the color of the walls in Stephen's room and the way the tissue box was dressed up. Dealing with loss is never easy and I think that you portray very well the effects it can have on a family, especially the way the mother is so withdrawn. Nice job.

[Nancy Ring]

What a fascinating story about a little boy dealing with the death of a Father and the the grief that follows! It is well captured. I see the field trip perked him up a bit. Grief in that short of time is hard to really get rid of. It takes a while to get back to being normal. It is sad when you see his Mom going through it and the children are neglected because of it. It really plays on your emotions. You see the sadness in him when he gets home and Mom doesn't help him with the bullies. He just wants to be a little boy again. Makes anyone cry. Poor kid. I really feel for him.
I know you want this all ignored but here is some help with the sentences:
"My father, unlike most parents, actually know what the style is" This is in the 18th or 19th paragraph. I think it should be "My father, unlike most parents, actually knows what the style is." I took out the unlike most parents and read it again. I really think it is knows instead of know. Maybe knew if you are looking for past tense.
"On a quieter tone, he continued “you can have an 2 hour to walk around and explore." I think you should rewrite it to: You can have two hours to walk around and explore.
"Meet us at the picnic table when the hour is up" you should make it either "meet us at the picnic table in 2 hours" or just rewrite the first sentence to "you have an hour to walk around and explore."
" “Are you going for Mother’s Day?”" I think you mean "What are you doing for Mother's day?"
Just some help as you are going through fixing the story. I find it helpful when someone helps me rewrite a sentence. I know you just want the review and such. It really is a great story.

[Shapirta]

thanks, nancy

[emmajoy]

Although sad, i enjoyed the way this story positively romps through a pace of happenings, characters and emotions to that comforting finish. There are areas which could be shorter or omitted - e.g. the goings-on in the bathroom plus you use 'I' far too much. However, both your grammar and punctuation is amazinglyv mature!

[Shapirta]

thanks, and yeah, i know. i am going thorugh it tweaking the sentences, to lessen the 'i's and correct my grammar and whatever. but thanks for reviewing!

[Ponderer Panda]

I really found this a great story, I loved reading this so much, looking forward to reading the rest of what you have to write.

[Shapirta]

thanks, panda!

[PoetHearted1]

Hi Amy, overall, I found your story quite captivating , you certainly do have talent, I can see it, but as you mature, so will your talent, but you're off to a great start, in the right direction. I liked how you told the story from a young person's perspective , you don't always get to hear a young person's perspective on things , and it was great to see you make the effort. Keep doing what inspires you, don't strive for perfectionism, just strive to be your true self, grammar, etc will follow later, you have a knack for writing, so persue it and take it as far as you can !

[Shapirta]

thanks so much, poethearted!

[Beccy]

Amy. The story line is excellent and you have managed to capture quite well how a young person might feel losing someone so close to them. As you say though, you found this site and were in a hurry to finish the story; which is a tiny bit of a shame as your writing became less tight and focused part way through, especially the story line which started to wander a little. Overall though, this is very good writing for one so young and all it needs to be excellent is some tidying up. You have a talent that you should continue to nurture and develop.

One thing though, I cannot, and never will ignore 'grammar issues' as you call them. Such mistakes spoil the flow and distract the readers attention. That is not, by the way, a criticism,
simply some honest advice.

Beccy.

[Shapirta]

thanks beccy!

[...]

actually i usualy don t read stories. it s too long for me . poems is great form for me. describe your feel at few words it s realy great. what i can see here. it s very rich language and interising point of view on important things at the life. it s very touchfull . i think this important . emotions is for me important than correct form. very simply i want say you at right direction and your piece is great.

[Shapirta]

thanks, ritska!