The Sun Dried Theatre
A short story by Third
So it had been decided. George was staying at Pine Road Elementary School, convinced by Rea that it would get more interesting as the year went on. The month was May, so George supposed that the interesting things happened at the last second, or Rea was a big liar. Rea smiled at him, and told him that the latter was more probable.
On the Saturday when Grandma had gone shopping for school supplies and Grandpa was playing poker at a friend's house, George went exploring. Not outside, just in the house itself, since he had only been in the bathroom, the game room, his room, the kitchen, and the dining room. He climbed the stairs to his room, and opened the door to the Games Room. There, in the right corner was his bathroom, and the closet on his left wall.
It was an empty closet, George found, except for a few boxes on the top self above the bar that held clothes-less hangars. But in the right corner, he found a ladder.
It was just that, a ladder. It was stuck on the wall, and ended just where the shelf was cut off. George climbed it. He struggled on top on the shelf, knocking over a few boxes while he was at it.
And there, he saw the most unusual thing.
It was a door. A tiny door, two and a half feet wide. George struggled through it sideways, and found himself falling.
George opened his eyes. He must have hit his head when he fell. He had blacked out totally. He looked at his watch. It had only been for one minute, but it had seemed like hours. George got up and looked around.
A dark, dusty hallway is where he stood. He could barely see what was in front of him, but he still felt his way along the passage. And son, he felt a door. His hand had glided along onto the handle, and opened it automatically. George lost his balance as the door swung open and fell yet again. He stood up shakily, groping for lights switches on the walls.
He was blinded by the sudden find of a light. The room was magnificent.
"Hello?" George asked, speaking into the telephone in the kitchen, "Is Rea there?"
"Speaking," The voice answered.
"Rea, you live close to me don't you?"
"Yeah."
"Could you come over?"
"You hold the flashlight," George ordered, handing Rea the flashlight when they entered the dark hallway. With a click, it when on, and George found the door to the room.
The two boys stepped inside.
There was no wallpaper in this room, because it needed none. All the walls, with the exception of where other things were placed, were covered with bookshelves. And they were full, too. Every space on the shelves was covered with classics, books without titles, and books neither of the boys had ever heard of.
There was a file cabinet, tucked away in the left corner. And there was a desk, sitting up against the right wall, a chair parked neatly into it.
The creepy silence sent the boys scurrying to make conversation.
"W-what is this?"
"You tell me," George said impatiently, opening the file cabinet.
It was jam-packed with folders and documents. George fingered through them tenderly while Rea peeled books randomly off the bookshelf.
"Tom Sawyer. Anne of Green Gables. The Old Man and the Sea. These are al classics, I wonder what they're doing up here? Oh, what's this?" Rea was fingering through a title-less book. "George."
George looked up from the document, none of which he could make since. They were just dialogues from plays. "What is it?"
"Look at this."
George snatched the book out of Rea's hands.
January 25, 1982
Elsie Satchel
I finished remodeling the Theatre with dad today, and he says I can put on as many shows as I like, so now I'm gathering a cast! This is going to be so much fun! I'm going to make the whole town come and see MY play.
George's eyes widened. Suddenly he wanted to cry. Why had he invited Rea here anyway?
"Elsie Satchel. She was your mom, right?"
George nodded solemnly, the book slipping out of his hands.
"I'm sorry."
"It's not your fault," George said, looking up. He picked the diary up and placed it on the desk. "Let's go get some lunch."
Rea smiled. "Okay."
But before George left, he slipped the journal under his shirt, and placed it on his bed when they were going back downstairs.
"So what do think that room was for anyway?" Rea said in between mouthfuls of sandwich.
"Dunno. Maybe my mom really liked reading."
"You think? But why would she have a room just to read? Couldn't she have that in her own room?"
"Good point. But was that about a theatre?"
"How would I know? I've only been in this town for one week. I don't know of any theatres."
"I know about the movie theatre," Rea smiled, "but I don't think that old thing's ever been remodeled."
George took a bite of his sandwich. This was all puzzling. He'd have to think on it.
The next day was a school day, to both George and Rea's disappointment. Another day to explore would have been excellent, but neither of their guardians would allow to skip school.
What interested George the most was how his grandparents had never come around to telling him about the room. If it was in their house, surely they knew about it. Every time George told them he had gone 'exploring', they exchanged glances, which told George he was doing something he wasn't supposed to do. So he kept what he found to himself and Rea.
"Could George Satchel please come to the principal's office?" The intercom boomed that Monday morning.
Rea looked over at him questioningly. George shrugged.
George got up from his seat, the whole classes' eyes on him. He almost beamed and took a bow, but though better of it. What had he done, anyway? He just got here.
The principal's office was stuffy and uncomfortable. There was only a desk with an light and paper on it, two chairs (one behind the desk and one in front) and a file cabinet stuck in one corner. George sat down.
The principal was a man in his thirties, with a long nose and blonde hair. He had plain brown eyes that were an endless void, as far as George cared, for he couldn't determine anything out of them.
"George Satchel?" the principal inquired.
"Yes."
"Sit down." George sat in the squat chair which was very close to the ground. So this principal liked to intimidate people. George mentally kicked himself for choosing to go to this school.
"George, I know you are going through hard times right now with the death of your mother," The principal started, "but I need to ask you something."
Why, why do adult always start their conversations like that? "I'm sorry your mom died. Have a nice day." If you need to ask me a favor start out with "George I am pleased to know you've joined our school." Or "I'm sure you'll have a nice time here." I don't want to hear about my mom. It's not going to persuade me to do anything if you remind me my best friend died and my life is ruined, George thought, that's sick.
"George, I hear you've made friends with another student named 'James Sivler'," the man said.
George raised an eyebrow. Friends wasn't the work he'd use but. "Uh, yeah. Sure."
"Well then you'll know that his parents were very close to sending him to a boarding school."
George almost smirked. He could see that. "Oh? Why would that be?"
"Well, young man," the principal started, "James doesn't have that best. record."
You think? "He seems pretty nice to me." There were so many rumors about what Siv had done this school there weren't enough numbers to count them with.
"But I know that since he befriended you, he's started to change."
George snorted, against all his will.
"What was that?"
"Eh, nothing," George said, hiding his face. "So he's started acting better. So what?"
"Well, James has this little. gang if you will. But they're not so interested in being nice."
"So?" George knew it was wrong to be sarcastic in front of a teacher, but he couldn't help it.
"So I'm asking you to persuade them to start acting well too."
Do you want me to become a human pancake? "Uh. I'll try."
The principal smiled at him. "Good luck, George."
"I'll need it," George muttered, as he walked out of the room.
"What was that?"
"I said 'See ya'."
"Ah."
"What's up?" Rea asked, sitting down on the luck table's bench.
George groaned and opened his lunch. "The principal wants me to do a favor for him."
"Oh boy."
"No. It's not like that."
Puzzled, Rea took a bite of his apple. "So, what's it like?"
"It's like I have to make some friends."
"So?"
"I have to make friend with them." George pointed at the group of boys crowded around Siv.
Rea choked on his apple. "Say what?"
"I have to make friends with Siv's gang because somehow I've reformed Siv himself."
Rea considered it. "Best to start now. I'll introduce you."
George felt his stomach shot up to his throat. He was expecting Rea to protect him, to hide him from the bigger boys. Surely Rea didn't think the change in Siv's behavior was because of him.
"Is this a good idea?" George hissed as he walked across the cafeteria.
"No."
"Well, that's reassuring!"
"If you want to be reassured, go to the guidance counselor."
George looked at the boys. They were each a head taller than him, if not two. "Er. hello."
Rea glared at him. He opened his mouth to say something to the gang, but before him could, one of them spoke up.
"You're that brat who's making Siv act all funny, aren't you?" A particularly tall and ugly one asked.
George wanted to run far, far away. "Yes."
The boy's eyes flashed. "Than you'll be prepared to get the beating of your life."
"That's our cue to leave," Rea hissed, eyes widening. "Nice to meet you all-"
But the boy had already caught George's collar. "Nice try."
Someone grabbed George's arm. "Give it up."
George looked up at the stranger. It was Siv. George's heart skipped a few beats. He was indescribably dead.
Siv pulled George back to his seat and sat him down. Rea had been pulled to his seat by another black boy whom George didn't recognize.
"Don't even try to make friends with them. They're so helplessly angry with me and you they're to stunned to fight," Siv growled, stealing some of George's potato chips.
"Could you tell?" Rea's heart started pumping again.
The strange boy chuckled. He was Rea's size, with hazel eyes and brown hair. "Aren't you glad to see me, Rea?"
"No," Rea said flatly, "I thought you were moving to Jamaica or something."
"I went on vacation, smart one."
"Right."
George was still staring at his lunch unblinkingly.
"It won't fly into your mouth, you know," Siv said cheerfully, still eating the untouched lunch.
"You can have it. I lost my appetite."
Rea and the other boy reached over to snag part of George's lunch.
"I'm Fly, by the way,' the stranger who was munching on George's sandwich said, "At least, that's what Rea named me. You must be George."
"Uh, yeah."
"Cool. You're in Mr. Bancy's class, right?"
George nodded.
"Me too. I just got back from Jamaica with my dad. Family vacation, like. I'm a friend of a Rea's and. an ally of Siv's."
"It's better than an enemy," Siv grunted.
"Agreed," The three other boys said simultaneously.
The rest of the week was an adventure. Siv's new clique was news around the school, and it became known that George had somehow "changed" him. Though George had no clue how he'd done this, he now got along better with all the students. Who enjoyed nothing less of crowding around him, waiting for him to tell them stories about the non-existent friendship. George would shoo them off, telling them it was more like an "alliance".
Fly and Rea were also getting attention. Everyone wanted to know what was going on, but neither seemed to know. Rea, of course, had told Fly about the conversation with Siv last week, but it didn't seem to explain the sudden change of events. Perhaps Siv didn't want to go to boarding school. But even that seemed unlikely. Siv would have gone out of pure stubbornness, if nothing else. Siv was surprising everyone, though. He was now polite. He answered questions in class. He did chores without questioning. He didn't push the little kids, and his classmates no longer cowered behind him when he had his back turned. His grades moved from near-last to first in the class. And that was by Thursday.
A short story by Third
So it had been decided. George was staying at Pine Road Elementary School, convinced by Rea that it would get more interesting as the year went on. The month was May, so George supposed that the interesting things happened at the last second, or Rea was a big liar. Rea smiled at him, and told him that the latter was more probable.
On the Saturday when Grandma had gone shopping for school supplies and Grandpa was playing poker at a friend's house, George went exploring. Not outside, just in the house itself, since he had only been in the bathroom, the game room, his room, the kitchen, and the dining room. He climbed the stairs to his room, and opened the door to the Games Room. There, in the right corner was his bathroom, and the closet on his left wall.
It was an empty closet, George found, except for a few boxes on the top self above the bar that held clothes-less hangars. But in the right corner, he found a ladder.
It was just that, a ladder. It was stuck on the wall, and ended just where the shelf was cut off. George climbed it. He struggled on top on the shelf, knocking over a few boxes while he was at it.
And there, he saw the most unusual thing.
It was a door. A tiny door, two and a half feet wide. George struggled through it sideways, and found himself falling.
George opened his eyes. He must have hit his head when he fell. He had blacked out totally. He looked at his watch. It had only been for one minute, but it had seemed like hours. George got up and looked around.
A dark, dusty hallway is where he stood. He could barely see what was in front of him, but he still felt his way along the passage. And son, he felt a door. His hand had glided along onto the handle, and opened it automatically. George lost his balance as the door swung open and fell yet again. He stood up shakily, groping for lights switches on the walls.
He was blinded by the sudden find of a light. The room was magnificent.
"Hello?" George asked, speaking into the telephone in the kitchen, "Is Rea there?"
"Speaking," The voice answered.
"Rea, you live close to me don't you?"
"Yeah."
"Could you come over?"
"You hold the flashlight," George ordered, handing Rea the flashlight when they entered the dark hallway. With a click, it when on, and George found the door to the room.
The two boys stepped inside.
There was no wallpaper in this room, because it needed none. All the walls, with the exception of where other things were placed, were covered with bookshelves. And they were full, too. Every space on the shelves was covered with classics, books without titles, and books neither of the boys had ever heard of.
There was a file cabinet, tucked away in the left corner. And there was a desk, sitting up against the right wall, a chair parked neatly into it.
The creepy silence sent the boys scurrying to make conversation.
"W-what is this?"
"You tell me," George said impatiently, opening the file cabinet.
It was jam-packed with folders and documents. George fingered through them tenderly while Rea peeled books randomly off the bookshelf.
"Tom Sawyer. Anne of Green Gables. The Old Man and the Sea. These are al classics, I wonder what they're doing up here? Oh, what's this?" Rea was fingering through a title-less book. "George."
George looked up from the document, none of which he could make since. They were just dialogues from plays. "What is it?"
"Look at this."
George snatched the book out of Rea's hands.
January 25, 1982
Elsie Satchel
I finished remodeling the Theatre with dad today, and he says I can put on as many shows as I like, so now I'm gathering a cast! This is going to be so much fun! I'm going to make the whole town come and see MY play.
George's eyes widened. Suddenly he wanted to cry. Why had he invited Rea here anyway?
"Elsie Satchel. She was your mom, right?"
George nodded solemnly, the book slipping out of his hands.
"I'm sorry."
"It's not your fault," George said, looking up. He picked the diary up and placed it on the desk. "Let's go get some lunch."
Rea smiled. "Okay."
But before George left, he slipped the journal under his shirt, and placed it on his bed when they were going back downstairs.
"So what do think that room was for anyway?" Rea said in between mouthfuls of sandwich.
"Dunno. Maybe my mom really liked reading."
"You think? But why would she have a room just to read? Couldn't she have that in her own room?"
"Good point. But was that about a theatre?"
"How would I know? I've only been in this town for one week. I don't know of any theatres."
"I know about the movie theatre," Rea smiled, "but I don't think that old thing's ever been remodeled."
George took a bite of his sandwich. This was all puzzling. He'd have to think on it.
The next day was a school day, to both George and Rea's disappointment. Another day to explore would have been excellent, but neither of their guardians would allow to skip school.
What interested George the most was how his grandparents had never come around to telling him about the room. If it was in their house, surely they knew about it. Every time George told them he had gone 'exploring', they exchanged glances, which told George he was doing something he wasn't supposed to do. So he kept what he found to himself and Rea.
"Could George Satchel please come to the principal's office?" The intercom boomed that Monday morning.
Rea looked over at him questioningly. George shrugged.
George got up from his seat, the whole classes' eyes on him. He almost beamed and took a bow, but though better of it. What had he done, anyway? He just got here.
The principal's office was stuffy and uncomfortable. There was only a desk with an light and paper on it, two chairs (one behind the desk and one in front) and a file cabinet stuck in one corner. George sat down.
The principal was a man in his thirties, with a long nose and blonde hair. He had plain brown eyes that were an endless void, as far as George cared, for he couldn't determine anything out of them.
"George Satchel?" the principal inquired.
"Yes."
"Sit down." George sat in the squat chair which was very close to the ground. So this principal liked to intimidate people. George mentally kicked himself for choosing to go to this school.
"George, I know you are going through hard times right now with the death of your mother," The principal started, "but I need to ask you something."
Why, why do adult always start their conversations like that? "I'm sorry your mom died. Have a nice day." If you need to ask me a favor start out with "George I am pleased to know you've joined our school." Or "I'm sure you'll have a nice time here." I don't want to hear about my mom. It's not going to persuade me to do anything if you remind me my best friend died and my life is ruined, George thought, that's sick.
"George, I hear you've made friends with another student named 'James Sivler'," the man said.
George raised an eyebrow. Friends wasn't the work he'd use but. "Uh, yeah. Sure."
"Well then you'll know that his parents were very close to sending him to a boarding school."
George almost smirked. He could see that. "Oh? Why would that be?"
"Well, young man," the principal started, "James doesn't have that best. record."
You think? "He seems pretty nice to me." There were so many rumors about what Siv had done this school there weren't enough numbers to count them with.
"But I know that since he befriended you, he's started to change."
George snorted, against all his will.
"What was that?"
"Eh, nothing," George said, hiding his face. "So he's started acting better. So what?"
"Well, James has this little. gang if you will. But they're not so interested in being nice."
"So?" George knew it was wrong to be sarcastic in front of a teacher, but he couldn't help it.
"So I'm asking you to persuade them to start acting well too."
Do you want me to become a human pancake? "Uh. I'll try."
The principal smiled at him. "Good luck, George."
"I'll need it," George muttered, as he walked out of the room.
"What was that?"
"I said 'See ya'."
"Ah."
"What's up?" Rea asked, sitting down on the luck table's bench.
George groaned and opened his lunch. "The principal wants me to do a favor for him."
"Oh boy."
"No. It's not like that."
Puzzled, Rea took a bite of his apple. "So, what's it like?"
"It's like I have to make some friends."
"So?"
"I have to make friend with them." George pointed at the group of boys crowded around Siv.
Rea choked on his apple. "Say what?"
"I have to make friends with Siv's gang because somehow I've reformed Siv himself."
Rea considered it. "Best to start now. I'll introduce you."
George felt his stomach shot up to his throat. He was expecting Rea to protect him, to hide him from the bigger boys. Surely Rea didn't think the change in Siv's behavior was because of him.
"Is this a good idea?" George hissed as he walked across the cafeteria.
"No."
"Well, that's reassuring!"
"If you want to be reassured, go to the guidance counselor."
George looked at the boys. They were each a head taller than him, if not two. "Er. hello."
Rea glared at him. He opened his mouth to say something to the gang, but before him could, one of them spoke up.
"You're that brat who's making Siv act all funny, aren't you?" A particularly tall and ugly one asked.
George wanted to run far, far away. "Yes."
The boy's eyes flashed. "Than you'll be prepared to get the beating of your life."
"That's our cue to leave," Rea hissed, eyes widening. "Nice to meet you all-"
But the boy had already caught George's collar. "Nice try."
Someone grabbed George's arm. "Give it up."
George looked up at the stranger. It was Siv. George's heart skipped a few beats. He was indescribably dead.
Siv pulled George back to his seat and sat him down. Rea had been pulled to his seat by another black boy whom George didn't recognize.
"Don't even try to make friends with them. They're so helplessly angry with me and you they're to stunned to fight," Siv growled, stealing some of George's potato chips.
"Could you tell?" Rea's heart started pumping again.
The strange boy chuckled. He was Rea's size, with hazel eyes and brown hair. "Aren't you glad to see me, Rea?"
"No," Rea said flatly, "I thought you were moving to Jamaica or something."
"I went on vacation, smart one."
"Right."
George was still staring at his lunch unblinkingly.
"It won't fly into your mouth, you know," Siv said cheerfully, still eating the untouched lunch.
"You can have it. I lost my appetite."
Rea and the other boy reached over to snag part of George's lunch.
"I'm Fly, by the way,' the stranger who was munching on George's sandwich said, "At least, that's what Rea named me. You must be George."
"Uh, yeah."
"Cool. You're in Mr. Bancy's class, right?"
George nodded.
"Me too. I just got back from Jamaica with my dad. Family vacation, like. I'm a friend of a Rea's and. an ally of Siv's."
"It's better than an enemy," Siv grunted.
"Agreed," The three other boys said simultaneously.
The rest of the week was an adventure. Siv's new clique was news around the school, and it became known that George had somehow "changed" him. Though George had no clue how he'd done this, he now got along better with all the students. Who enjoyed nothing less of crowding around him, waiting for him to tell them stories about the non-existent friendship. George would shoo them off, telling them it was more like an "alliance".
Fly and Rea were also getting attention. Everyone wanted to know what was going on, but neither seemed to know. Rea, of course, had told Fly about the conversation with Siv last week, but it didn't seem to explain the sudden change of events. Perhaps Siv didn't want to go to boarding school. But even that seemed unlikely. Siv would have gone out of pure stubbornness, if nothing else. Siv was surprising everyone, though. He was now polite. He answered questions in class. He did chores without questioning. He didn't push the little kids, and his classmates no longer cowered behind him when he had his back turned. His grades moved from near-last to first in the class. And that was by Thursday.