The+First+Chapter+of+Saltwater

This is from Mrs. Rothacher's class last year. It hasn't been edited since seventh grade. Looking back, I feel that I could have done a much better job. I did try to continue this story after the assignment, however, the following pages did not satisfy me. This story is rather dark... at least, for me. :) I will most likely replace this chapter with something less tedious and dreadful later this year. However, right now, I really need something to fill up the space under "Novels." So, here you are, the first chapter of //Saltwater.// //~// Lauren

Chapter One

 The mournful faces of gurgling fish thumped against the glass. Amie Creel nibbled the bread coating off of a fish stick. Her fourteen-year-old brother leaned against the glass wall that divided the fish from the humans. A deep blue apron garnished with the words “Crustacean Cafeteria” was tied around his waist. He wore dark jeans and a black hooded jacket. His reddish hair fell just above his steely blue eyes. A scowl embellished his freckled face. Scottie Creel looked as sulky as ever.  Amie liked her brother’s new job at the Crustacean Cafeteria, Fletcher Bay Aquarium’s new restaurant. The Crustacean Cafeteria had pristine, transparent walls filled with glittering water and vibrant fish. The crisp scent of whitefish and crab wafted from the kitchen. The briny sea breeze and the scintillating sunlight streamed through the open skylights. Bright orange benches were planted before long, metal tables. Scarlet trays were neatly stacked atop the ultramarine counters.  Amie loved visiting the aquarium, which overflowed with beautiful sea life, and she enjoyed eating for free at the Crustacean Cafeteria.  “Waiter!” Amie called, waving at her brother.  Scottie glanced around, a listless, disconnected appearance embedded in his face.  “Waiter!” Amie repeated.  Scottie crossly approached her. “What is it now?”  “That’s no way to treat your customers,” Amie snapped.  “What do you want //now//?” Scottie groaned.  “Pink lemonade,” Amie said. “And while you’re at it, ask your manager, or whoever, why they serve seafood at an aquarium. I mean, does anyone else find that a little ironic?”  “No,” Scottie replied. “It’s just you.”  Amie tossed her pale hair. “I always knew you’d be waiting on me someday. I think Mom, Dad, and Granddad all saw it coming, too.”  “I need this job,” Scottie riposted.  “Why?” Amie asked. “I bet you just wanted to talk to the blond waitress. She’s fourteen too, you know. She goes to your high school. I think she’s on the track team.”  Scottie shook his head. “You need to start taking the world seriously.”  Amie tore pieces off of a French fry. “I’ll start taking the world seriously the day the world starts taking me seriously.” <span style="font-family: Tahoma,Geneva,sans-serif; font-size: 110%;"> “Listen, Amie,” Scottie said, “I need this job because I need money.” <span style="font-family: Tahoma,Geneva,sans-serif; font-size: 110%;"> “For what?” Amie interrogated. <span style="font-family: Tahoma,Geneva,sans-serif; font-size: 110%;"> “What’s it matter to you?” Scottie questioned. <span style="font-family: Tahoma,Geneva,sans-serif; font-size: 110%;"> “I’m your sister, I have a right to know,” Amie responded. <span style="font-family: Tahoma,Geneva,sans-serif; font-size: 110%;"> The fourteen-year-old waitress arrived. Her long, blond hair fell in layers and was adorned with rose-shaped clips. She wore a pale pink skirt under her blue apron and a lacy black tank top. <span style="font-family: Tahoma,Geneva,sans-serif; font-size: 110%;"> She pushed Scottie aside. “Scott, I know you’re new at this, but you’re actually supposed to take the customer’s dishes back to the kitchen when they’re through eating.” <span style="font-family: Tahoma,Geneva,sans-serif; font-size: 110%;"> She delicately lifted Amie’s plates herself, rolling her eyes. <span style="font-family: Tahoma,Geneva,sans-serif; font-size: 110%;"> “Yeah, Scottie,” Amie echoed. “You’re supposed to take my dishes back to the kitchen when I’m through eating.” <span style="font-family: Tahoma,Geneva,sans-serif; font-size: 110%;"> Scottie glanced at his cell phone. “4:53. My shift’s basically over.” <span style="font-family: Tahoma,Geneva,sans-serif; font-size: 110%;"> Although she liked her brother’s new career, Amie hated to hear her brother talking about his “shift” and his “job.” She missed the wonderfully rascally sibling that she had once known. <span style="font-family: Tahoma,Geneva,sans-serif; font-size: 110%;"> “Come on,” he snapped. “We’re going home.” <span style="font-family: Tahoma,Geneva,sans-serif; font-size: 110%;"> “Hold on!” Amie cried. “I didn’t get to see the harbor seals yet.” <span style="font-family: Tahoma,Geneva,sans-serif; font-size: 110%;"> “Forget about it,” Scottie said. <span style="font-family: Tahoma,Geneva,sans-serif; font-size: 110%;"> “What?” <span style="font-family: Tahoma,Geneva,sans-serif; font-size: 110%;"> Scottie dragged her out of the back entrance. <span style="font-family: Tahoma,Geneva,sans-serif; font-size: 110%;"> “Sorry if I made you mad,” Amie whispered. <span style="font-family: Tahoma,Geneva,sans-serif; font-size: 110%;"> “It’s not that,” Scottie replied. <span style="font-family: Tahoma,Geneva,sans-serif; font-size: 110%;"> “Is it that girl?” Amie asked eagerly. <span style="font-family: Tahoma,Geneva,sans-serif; font-size: 110%;"> “I wanted to tell you,” Scottie insisted. “But I couldn’t tell you at home, where Mom, Dad, and Granddad, could’ve heard. And I couldn’t tell you at the Crustacean Cafeteria. Really, I couldn’t tell you anywhere at the aquarium.” <span style="font-family: Tahoma,Geneva,sans-serif; font-size: 110%;"> “It’s that girl, isn’t it?” Amie laughed. <span style="font-family: Tahoma,Geneva,sans-serif; font-size: 110%;"> “No. It’s much, much bigger than anything bubbling around in your little brain right now. But don’t talk about it. Not here,” Scottie muttered hastily. “And if I tell you, you have to swear not to tell Mom or anyone.” <span style="font-family: Tahoma,Geneva,sans-serif; font-size: 110%;"> Amie receded. “What is it? Is it something really bad?” <span style="font-family: Tahoma,Geneva,sans-serif; font-size: 110%;"> Scottie hesitated. “//I// didn’t do anything wrong. Neither did you.” <span style="font-family: Tahoma,Geneva,sans-serif; font-size: 110%;"> “Did Mom or Dad do something wrong?” Amie asked. <span style="font-family: Tahoma,Geneva,sans-serif; font-size: 110%;"> “No,” Scottie answered. <span style="font-family: Tahoma,Geneva,sans-serif; font-size: 110%;"> Amie chewed her lip. “Fine. I swear I won’t tell anyone.” <span style="font-family: Tahoma,Geneva,sans-serif; font-size: 110%;"> Scottie led her up the boardwalk, glancing around as if he was worried that he was being followed. Shriveled, pasty white gum was jammed between the wooden planks of the boardwalk. The inoperative Ferris wheel hung gloomily over the people. Snow cones rested in the hands of gleeful children. Homeless people shook empty soup cans. Singing street musicians pounded bongos. Hot dog stand vendors gluttonously jammed their own goods into their dry mouths. Old women slowly peddled creaking bicycles. The sun spilled down from between the charcoal clouds. <span style="font-family: Tahoma,Geneva,sans-serif; font-size: 110%;"> “Tell me already!” Amie whined. <span style="font-family: Tahoma,Geneva,sans-serif; font-size: 110%;"> Scottie ducked behind a row of bicycles. Amie inhaled the salty air, struggling to brace herself for whatever her brother was going to say. <span style="font-family: Tahoma,Geneva,sans-serif; font-size: 110%;"> “You asked me what I needed money for,” Scottie said. <span style="font-family: Tahoma,Geneva,sans-serif; font-size: 110%;"> “I know what I asked you!” Amie screamed. <span style="font-family: Tahoma,Geneva,sans-serif; font-size: 110%;"> Scottie clapped his hand over her mouth. “Keep your voice down.” <span style="font-family: Tahoma,Geneva,sans-serif; font-size: 110%;"> “Fine,” Amie muttered. <span style="font-family: Tahoma,Geneva,sans-serif; font-size: 110%;"> “I need the money for an apartment,” Scottie breathed slowly. <span style="font-family: Tahoma,Geneva,sans-serif; font-size: 110%;"> “An apartment? You’re fourteen!” Amie exclaimed. <span style="font-family: Tahoma,Geneva,sans-serif; font-size: 110%;"> “It’s the only way to be safe,” Scottie retorted. <span style="font-family: Tahoma,Geneva,sans-serif; font-size: 110%;"> “Safe from?” Amie persisted. <span style="font-family: Tahoma,Geneva,sans-serif; font-size: 110%;"> “Safe from Granddad.” <span style="font-family: Tahoma,Geneva,sans-serif; font-size: 110%;"> “What are you talking about?” Amie inquired. <span style="font-family: Tahoma,Geneva,sans-serif; font-size: 110%;"> “I had to get a job at the aquarium. I had to because that was where it all started,” Scottie explained. <span style="font-family: Tahoma,Geneva,sans-serif; font-size: 110%;"> “Where what all started?” <span style="font-family: Tahoma,Geneva,sans-serif; font-size: 110%;"> “It was 1977. Granddad was a scuba diver. He actually captured some rare fish. He even found the ruins of a 17th century ship. But it wasn’t until 1988 when diving morphed his life into something ugly. He discovered this treasure map,” Scottie paused. “Are you getting all this?” <span style="font-family: Tahoma,Geneva,sans-serif; font-size: 110%;"> Amie frowned. “Yes, I’m getting all this. I’m actually not the little airhead that you think I am.” <span style="font-family: Tahoma,Geneva,sans-serif; font-size: 110%;"> “Anyway, he found this map, and sort of went insane – ” <span style="font-family: Tahoma,Geneva,sans-serif; font-size: 110%;"> “How do you know all this?” Amie quizzed. <span style="font-family: Tahoma,Geneva,sans-serif; font-size: 110%;"> “Grammy told me two weeks ago, that night in the hospital before she died,” Scottie said. “She told me not to tell the rest of the family.” <span style="font-family: Tahoma,Geneva,sans-serif; font-size: 110%;"> Amie pouted, resentful towards her grandmother for not including her in the secret. “So, the last thing that Grammy told you was the story of how your granddad lost his mind.” <span style="font-family: Tahoma,Geneva,sans-serif; font-size: 110%;"> “Not my granddad,” Scottie corrected. “Our granddad. This is your problem, too.” <span style="font-family: Tahoma,Geneva,sans-serif; font-size: 110%;"> “It’s not my problem if I don’t know the full problem,” Amie replied. <span style="font-family: Tahoma,Geneva,sans-serif; font-size: 110%;"> “There was this aquarium employee at the time,” Scottie continued. “Her name was… Marla… Marla something, I think. Anyway, she was mad at Granddad. She wanted the map to be displayed at the aquarium. She didn’t think that the treasure should be unearthed. She thought it should never be unearthed. So she tried to steal the map. Granddad caught her, and he was so mad, that he killed her. That simple.” <span style="font-family: Tahoma,Geneva,sans-serif; font-size: 110%;"> “Why isn’t he in jail, then?” Amie challenged. <span style="font-family: Tahoma,Geneva,sans-serif; font-size: 110%;"> “He was,” Scottie replied. “But he was let out after some number of years. Grammy said that he wanted to put it all behind him. And all this was before Mom was even born. I doubt she knows anything about it.”

<span style="font-family: Tahoma,Geneva,sans-serif; font-size: 110%;"> “What’s it matter if he wanted to put it all behind him?” Amie demanded hotly. <span style="font-family: Tahoma,Geneva,sans-serif; font-size: 110%;"> “Stop being so defensive,” Scottie ordered. “See, he never put it all behind him. Last week, a marine biologist from Fletcher Bay named Jeffery Lansing was murdered. The world doesn’t know who murdered him, but I do. It was Granddad.” <span style="font-family: Tahoma,Geneva,sans-serif; font-size: 110%;"> “Granddad is sixty-something!” Amie cried. “Old people don’t have enough energy to kill someone.” <span style="font-family: Tahoma,Geneva,sans-serif; font-size: 110%;"> “Do you want to tell me where he was on Wednesday, the night of Jeffery Lansing’s death?” Scottie hissed. <span style="font-family: Tahoma,Geneva,sans-serif; font-size: 110%;"> “Yes,” Amie replied. “In our attic, in his bed, sleeping next to the glass jar containing his false teeth.” <span style="font-family: Tahoma,Geneva,sans-serif; font-size: 110%;"> Scottie shook his head. “I borrowed his leather jacket. I found a bloody pocketknife in it!” <span style="font-family: Tahoma,Geneva,sans-serif; font-size: 110%;"> “Stop it!” Amie shrieked. “Stop trying to convict our grandfather of murder! This is all way too far-fetched, even for a complete numbskull, like you. I’m going home.” <span style="font-family: Tahoma,Geneva,sans-serif; font-size: 110%;"> Scottie grabbed Amie’s arm. “You can’t go home. It’s not safe. It will never be again.”

<span style="color: #008080; font-family: Georgia,serif; font-size: 110%;">Thanks for reading! You can now return to my page.