An On-line Novel: The Immoral: Good Character

Mr. Haggerman stuck his face into Grueber's. The kid had a lot of nerve. He was unruly for a missionary kid. What was the world coming to? Maybe the end of the world as the Bible had predicted. But he was far from rapture ready. The retired Army-man had a lot of anger to iron out. Maybe after retirement.

The kid staring him straight in the eyes glumped something down twice. He noted persperation dotting across his pimpled forehead.

If he could, he'd head butt him like he used to do to some of his undisciplined privates. But this was a high school. And according to the rules, it was only the principal who could dish out physical punishment. Child abuse laws were making things harder. It was just another sign of the times and another reason why his blood boiled. How was he not supposed to let the sun go down on his anger? He deserved respect.

But he restrained himself, squinted his eyes at the walking-grease-pit, and shouted, "Get into your seat!"

Grueber responded by spinning around and skittered  toward his desk.

The classroom fell silent. Faces went sullen and everyone scurried to their seats.

Mr. Haggerman stood in the doorway, right hand in pocket, jingling change. He gazed around the classroom and then at Cassandra. "Do we have names, Miss Berg?" He strutted toward her. "I hope I pegged you correctly."

Shelly Arkon 2015

An On-line Novel: The Immoral- The Hangman

I'm finally getting my mojo back for blogging and writing. Yay! Here's another chapter from my on-line novel.

THE HANGMAN

Someone cleared their throat off to Cassandra’s right. After, loose change clanked together.

Cassandra swung her head in the direction of the noise. A man stood in the doorway to the classroom, peering over his black rimmed glasses. They had slid halfway down his nose. She hadn’t met him before. The day her and her mom came for open house, the home room teacher was out sick. It had to be him. He looked more like a military man though. His pure white shirt and black trousers had absolutely no wrinkles.

The rowdy teens suddenly went silent and plopped in the desks around her and her BFF. All went sullen-faced.

“Good morning, class,” the man said, strutting to the podium in front of the desk. “I see we’re up to our same antics, Mr. Gruber.” He cast a gaze over his shoulder and grabbed onto each side of the lectern.

The greasy-haired boy at the chalkboard lowered his head and rushed around the teacher’s giant desk to the one directly behind Cassandra. He plopped loudly into the seat.

“Miss Wadsworth, please go to your desk before I decide to write you a warning.” He smoothed back his grey clipper cut. The short hairs on the top of his head stood straight up.

The girl standing in front of Ronald tugged at her skirt and hurried to the back of the room.

“I see we haven’t grown up much over the summer.” His dark, beady eyes went from left to right stopping at Cassandra. He tapped his chin and then glanced down. “You are new. Miss̶̶ .”

“Cassandra Berg. My friends call me Sassie.”

The girls behind her, snickered.

The teacher’s lips flat-lined, and he cocked his left bushy brow as he shot a look passed Cassandra. “One more time, ladies, and you can visit Mr. Ray today. I’m sure he would be pleased to see all of you.” He let go of the stand and straightened, shifting his glance back on Cassandra. “Miss Berg.” He nodded and shifted his eyes toward Ronald. “And you, sir?”

“Ronald Fisher, sir.”

“In my class, you will be known and called by your last name. I am not your friend. I am your instructor.” Saliva webbed around the corners of his mouth as he spoke.

The kid behind Cassandra tapped her shoulder and whispered, “That’s why we call him the hangman.”

“Mr. Gruber, do you have something to share with the class?” the teacher said.

“Um, no, sir.”

“Good. Then let’s get on with me introducing myself.” He made his way around the desk toward the blackboard and picked up a felt eraser. There, he stood with his back to the class as he studied the hangman before erasing it. “My name is Haggerman.” He plucked a piece of chalk from the board's silver tray and scribbled out M-r-.-H-a-g-g-e-r-m-a-n. After, he faced the class.

An intercom hanging on the wall above Ronald buzzed. “Mr. Haggerman?” a woman’s voice said.

“Yes.”

“You’re wanted in Mr. Ray’s office immediately.”

“Let me get my students squared away first.”

“Okay. I’ll let him know.”

Mr. Haggerman set his gaze on Cassandra. “Ms. Berg, I have job for you.”

Cassandra rolled her shoulders back. She couldn’t imagine what he wanted.

He marched toward her with a legal pad and pen in hand. “I’m making you the class monitor. I want you to write down the names of those who talk and get out of their seats.” He handed her the items.

She took them reluctantly. This wasn’t going to be good. Why couldn’t he have picked Ronnie? Or someone else? Why me?

“Can you handle this, Miss Berg?”

“Yes, sir.” She didn’t have the guts to tell him otherwise.

“Good. I know you won’t disappoint me. You have an honest face,” he said, lifting his chin. He slid his right hand into his pant pocket and jingled his loose change again. “And for the rest of you, I want you to take out your Bibles and hand copy Psalm twenty-three, three times over. That should keep you busy until I return.” After, he spun on his heels and hurried out of the classroom door hooking to the right down the hallway.

One of the girls in the back let out a loud cackle, “Hangman’s got a pet piggy!”

Shelly Arkon © 2015

An On-Line Novel: The Immoral: Insecurities

Cassandra stood in front of her bedroom mirror, smoothing her plaid skirt out over and over. She moved sideways and sucked in her stomach as tight as she could. It nearly suffocated her doing so. As she let the air out her belly bulged. After, she shifted herself around and glanced over her shoulder at her backside. Bubble-butt. Hiroshima-hips. The fatty. The voices played over and over in her head. She fisted her hands and pounded her hips. Ronnie had told her once that if she’d beat them, it would break up the fatty cells. He had read an article in one of his mother’s Cosmopolitan magazines.

“Sassie!” her mother called.

“Yes!” she hollered back, still staring at her backend, thrashing on her hips. Her diet plan had failed again. They always did. She’d have to try something different. Slimfast maybe. It should be okay for someone my age. The commercial says it’s full of vitamins.

“We need to go. It’s seven-thirty. I can’t be late for my shift.” Her mom was a registered nurse for a nursing home. She went into work early Monday through Friday and was always home by the time Cassandra got home from school.

Cassandra spun around to face the mirror again before scooping up her book bag. At least her curly hair looked alright and she hadn’t had a break out in a long time. Maybe no one will notice my weight. It’s a Christian school. Everyone should be cool with me she told herself.

***

Ronald glanced out the windshield as his stepfather pulled into the Baptist school’s parking lot. Three boys and girl sat at a picnic table under a large tree full of moss. He scanned beyond them, hoping to see Cassandra. But she wasn’t there from what he could see. His shoulders slumped and the pit in his stomach felt as if it would swallow him from the inside out.

“What’s the matter, little Ronnie?” his stepfather smacked his shoulder. “Afraid?”

He didn’t answer, grabbed the car handle, and pushed the door open. Hesitantly, he slid out of the seat and got to his feet, staring straight ahead. He figured if he ignored the head cheese he’d leave or melt away. Maybe he’ll crash his car somewhere today and die. That would’ve been fine with him. God knows he’s not been a real father figure in my life.

“Hey! Aren’t you gonna say good bye?” His stepfather sounded pathetic, kind of whiney. The guy has feelings?

Ronald rolled his eyes. “Bye.”

“Make sure you do what you can to walk like a man, girly-boy.” Those were his stepdad’s last words before he peeled out of the parking lot.

The kids at the picnic table all looked in his direction.

A lump grew in the bottom of his throat and he rolled his shoulders back. He took his stepfather’s advice to act like a man and puffed out his chest. Think John Wayne, he thought. It would be a great travesty if these kids figured out his secret.

 

 

Shelly Arkon©2015

 

 

 

 

 

On-line Novel: The Immoral, Chapter 2

After Ronald hung up the phone, he sauntered from the kitchen toward the living room. There, in the middle sat a glass-top coffe table. Right between two heavy gold candlesticks laid the family Bible. He picked it up and flipped it open quickly. Closing his eyes, he trailed his finger blindly down the page and counted to five and then stopped. There, he peeked at the scripture.

It read: Deuteronomy 22:5 The woman shall not wear which pertaineth unto a man,  neither shall a man put on a woman's garment for all that do so are an abomination unto the Lord thy God.

His mouth fell open and his eyes went wide. "What?" He said out into the room. "Why are you picking on me? I can't help it." He couldn't help that he liked girl clothes and make-up and even Cassandra's dreamy-Schneider. The last part he'd keep to himself all the way to the grave.

"Did you say something, Ronnie!" His mother hollered from her bedroom. She had her Do-Not-Disturb sign hanging on her door. Afternoons were for her cocktails and naps even though she had all day to herself for those. She didn't work like Cassandra's mom.

"No!" He yelled back. "Just doing some homework!" A trickle of sweat ran down his left temple as heat rose from his toes all the way to his cheeks. Shame and anger being the instigators.

" Just keep it down. You know your mama needs her beauty rest before the head cheese comes home."

"Okay."

He glanced down at the verse again. "Why are you picking on me about this, God? You know I'm different. I always have been." He fanned through the pages and it stopped in the book of James. His eyes caught a verse that he could use for confirmation. But he took it just as personally as he did the first one. 

James 4:7 Submit yourselves therefore to God. Resist the devil, and he will flee from you.

"What? Are you telling me this is the devil's fault?" He whispered." But you made me like this. Didn't you?"

Shelly Arkon ©2015

On-Line Novel: The Immoral

This is an on-line novel about Cassandra and Ron. They've been BFFs since middle school. While they grow into adults, they have struggles from within and question everything God has commanded not to do.

The story begins at their 8th grade confirmation class.

THE IMMORAL

1982

"I want the three of you," the pastor said. "to find a Bible verse that means something to you."

Cassandra half heard him. She was busy studying the dreamy Schmidt boy. She couldn't help herself. He had the biggest doe-looking eyes she'd ever seen on a boy his age before. Daydreams of tangling her fingers in his thick, dark wavy hair imvaded her mind. It fell just past his collar. Next, she saw dreamy Scmidt embrace her and then he planted a big fat one on her lips. Butterflies flitted in the pit of her stomach and she let out an audible sigh.

Her best friend Ronald Fisher elbowed her in her left side. "You're doing it again," he whispered. 

But she barely noticed. Her thoughts drifted to a big taffeta wedding gown, like the one Princess Diana wore when she married Prince Charles. She put it on in her imagination. After, she stepped into a pair glass shoes. Within seconds, she waltzed toward an aisle covered in rose petals. At the end of it, stood dreamy Schmidt dressed in an all-white tuxedo waiting with the pastor at the church altar.

The pastor cleared his throat. "Miss Cassandra Berg." His tone sounded harsh and his black rimmed glasses fell to the edge of his nose.

The thirteen-year-old snapped her head in his direction. "Yessir."

"Did you understand my instructions?" He now glared down his nose at her.

She followed the balls of light bouncing around on his bald head, repeating what she thought she heard. "Pick out a Bible verse that means something to me." 

"Yes. Make sure you memorize it." Slobber gathered at the corners of his thick lips. His mouth reminded her of Charlie the Tuna from the Starkist commercial.

"Yessir."

***

Cassandra plopped on her bed and grabbed the white leather bound Bible from her nightstand. On her fifth birthday, her devout Lutheran grandparents gave it to her. She couldn't figure why anyone would give a child something they were constantly told not to touch. Books were for reading. At least, it got a weekly dusting.

Quietly, she sauntered through the trail of dirty and clean clothes to her bedroom door. She craned her neck around its frame. Good. The sound of running water and dishes clinking, told her that mom was busy in the kitchen. She'd have enough time to thumb through the scriptures and find a meaningful verse. But she wasn't sure about how to do this. It never dawned on her to ask her pastor before she left his class earlier in the day. I'll call Ronny.

She shut the door to her room, spun around, and rushed back toward the bedside table again. There, she plucked the phone receiver from its base and dialed Ronald's number.

It rang twice before he answered. "Hello, the Fisher's residence."

"Hey," Cassandra said. "It's me, Sassie."

"What's up?"

"How am I supposed to find a meaningful Bible verse for confirmation?" If anyone would know he would. He also knew a lot about make-up and fashion. He was so much like a girl sometimes. She could tell him everything.

"Do what they call Scripture Roulette. My mom does it all the time."

"What's that?"

"Just flip it open. And whatever verse you first see, is the verse you're meant to see."
 

***

After, Cassandra hung up the phone, she quickly flipped her Bible open. 

Proverbs 3:5 Trust in The Lord with all thine heart, an lean not unto thine own understanding. It stuck out as if flashing lights blinked around it. Trust God? How? She shrugged and put her mind to memorize it.

Shelly Arkon © 2015

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Hugs and chocolate, all!
Shelly