Byron “Danger” McGovern

Fourth Period

Short Story

Ms. Wilson

BHS

Sunday, December 31^st, 2007

Green Bananas

The silent vibrating of the Nokia in his pocket woke him up. He pulled the phone out to turn off the alarm and noted the time. 2:43; he had slept through the vibrating for three minutes. Matthew threw off his small blanket and swung his feet out of bed. He was fully dressed, except for his shoes, which he strapped on quietly before he stood up. His room was chilly, and he shivered as he left his bed. He had a thin carpet spread across his floor, and he rubbed his feet along it as he crossed his room to grab his backpack.

            Matthew caught his reflection in the un-hung mirror leaning against the wall. He was wearing dark jeans that were slightly too small for him and a black jacket over a gray sweatshirt. He had a dark face with short black hair and eyebrows. He examined the red scab over his left eye; it was still raw, and he winced as he touched it. Matthew unzipped his backpack to make sure he hadn’t forgotten anything. He had a map, a compass, a pair of running shoes and some extra clothes. He had forgotten his notebook. He reached under his bed to pull the small black book from its hiding spot. Matthew had begun drawing in the book when he was seven, doodling stick figures and farm animals during class. By high school, his doodles had progressed into full-fledged cartoons. He had everything from one-panel jokes to four panel strips and even full-color Sunday editions. After a few seconds of proudly flipping through the pages, he slid the book into his backpack and turned to the door of his room.

Taking a deep breath, Matthew began to slowly inch it open. The hinges squealed suddenly and he nearly screamed, but after a few seconds of silent anticipation he was sure nobody had heard. He exhaled when there was finally enough room to slip through the doorway and then stepped out into the large hallway. He padded by his mom and stepdad’s room and stopped by his little brother and sister’s room. Matthew was the only one in the house with his own bed, and he wondered if his little brother would get it as he kneeled to slip the handwritten letter under the door.

            Matthew stood up and began creeping down the stairs. He had snuck out before, but he had never been so nervous doing it. Each stepped creaked louder than the one before it, as if they were trying to wake his stepdad up. When he reached the bottom, Matthew went to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. He felt bad for stealing the food, but they could get more, and he needed it. Silently apologizing, he unzipped his backpack and began pulling things off the shelves. Cheese, bread, tortillas, baby carrots, peanut butter, and a banana that was still green; Matthew liked them green. He turned and walked silently towards the door when something caught his eye. A family picture they had taken Christmas three years ago, about two months before his dad died. Matthew grabbed the photo and quietly opened the front door. Taking a final deep breath, he stepped out into the fresh air.

            As soon as he was outside he began running to his car, not looking back. Matthew pulled out the key belonging to his dark green Toyota pick-up truck and tried to unlock his car. His hands were shaking so violently he couldn’t get the key in the lock, and he wasn’t shivering from the cold. He looked down the street both ways, but there was nobody there. The only sound was his heavy breathing, and he took a second to calm his nerves before slowly sliding the key into place and climbing into the car. Without looking at his house he slipped the key in the ignition and turned it. Then he put his foot on the gas and drove off, leaving his whole life behind him.

*      *      *

            I jumped to a start. I had heard something, a squeaking something. Like an un-oiled door hinge. I didn’t move. I didn’t dare to move. It could have been Jonathon. He was still pretty drunk and if he knew I was awake I would get it. There it was again. The squeaking noise, quieter this time. Now footsteps. Sneaking footsteps. It was Matt, it had to be Matt. He must be mad about dinner. Maybe he’s sneaking out again to get drunk with his friends. Hopefully Jonathon won’t catch him this time. The footsteps kept coming, and stopped right at my doorway. Why did he stop here? What’s he doing? Something slid under my door. Oh, no. He’s doing it. No he’s not. Yes, he is. I had to check, I had to know. I snuck out of my bed, or at least my half of me and my sister’s bed, and crept across the room. The floor was freezing against my bare feet. Maybe I’ll get Matt’s room, he has carpeting. Maybe I’ll get Matt’s bed. I’ve never had my own bed. Oh my God. He hasn’t even stepped out of the door yet and you’re already hoping for his stuff. Wait, he may not be leaving. Yes, he is. Only one kind of note gets slid under a person’s door at three in the morning. I picked up the envelope and opened it quietly. I was too scared to turn on a light, and I couldn’t see the letters. It was all just ink on paper, not words in sentences. The only thing I could make out was a small sketch of my face in the corner. The words were all gibberish to me. But it didn’t matter; I already knew what it said. I’ve known what it said since before he wrote it. It said goodbye. It said goodbye to this house. It said goodbye to this life. It said goodbye to us. I knew he was going to leave one day. Deep down I always knew. I put the letter back in the envelope and carefully placed it back on the ground, angling the edges so it looked like I had never touched it. I heard Matt open the front door. Goodbye, Matt. Goodbye.

*      *      *

            Sweat was dripping down Matthew’s brow as he ran through the lush jungle. He was completely naked and he didn’t know why, but he decided the best option was to act like he didn’t care. His heart was pounding in his chest and his lungs were exhausted, but he felt no pain. He was running from the gorilla. That was it, the gorilla had his clothes, it took them when it moved in. Matthew could feel the ground shaking behind him, the gorilla was pounding closer every second. Matthew tried to run, but his feet were sinking deeper and deeper into the jungle’s mud with every step. The gorilla wanted Matthew’s bananas. Unfortunately, Matthew also wanted Matthew’s bananas.

Suddenly, the jungle cleared. There was a fork in the road, a literal fork stuck in the middle of the road. Matthew went to the left of it. Maybe I should have gone to the right, thought Matthew. Matthew stopped and wondered if it was too late to go back around the other side, and just then the gorilla grabbed him. The gorilla was giant, more than giant. The gorilla was a beast of nightmares. It began forcing bright yellow bananas into his hands, so many that he almost dropped his notebook. Matthew held the bananas in his arms and looked at them. Just eat one, he thought. Just eat one and he’ll let you go. Matthew looked at the gorilla. No, he thought.

“No!” he yelled at the top of his voice. “NO!” he yelled again, throwing the bananas at the giant beast. The gorilla didn’t like this.

“Get a job!” roared the beast in its native tongue, as it swung its massive fist at Matthew’s face. The gorilla’s huge, grey knuckles connected just above Matthew’s left eye.

*      *      *

The man noticed a pick-up truck parked next to the highway railing and pulled up behind it. He pulled the key out of the ignition and climbed out of the lime-green Honda. The man walked up to the Toyota pick-up and tapped on the driver’s side glass. The boy inside was sleeping sitting up, twisting and turning as sweat dripped down his forehead.

“Do you need some help?” asked the man with the Honda, tapping a little harder on the glass.

“NO!” screamed the boy in the truck as he jolted upright, waking up. The Honda man jumped about three feet backwards. The boy in the truck panted heavily for a few seconds and touched his fingers to a particularly nasty gash above his eye; it looked infected.

“You don’t need help?” asked the Honda man.

“Whoa! Where did you come from?” asked the boy in the truck.

“I thought your car broke down, so I pulled over to offer a hand. Do you need some help?”

“Um, yeah, actually,” said the boy as he rolled down the window. “My car broke down last night and I don’t know what’s happened to it. Do you think you could take a look?”

“No problem. I’m Max, by the way,” said the man, sticking his hand out for a shake.

“My name’s Matthew, it’s nice to meet you,” said the boy, shaking the man’s hand.

Max walked around to the front of the pick-up and popped the hood. “Whoo-ee! Matthew, you’re gonna need a mechanic to get this going again.”

“How can you tell?” asked Matthew. “Do you know a lot about cars?”

“Nope, but I’m pretty sure all this melted plastic on your engine is a bad sign,” replied Max. “Do you have a cell phone?”

“Yeah, but it died last night and I forgot to bring my charger.”

“Mine’s dead too, but I could take you to my office and you could use that phone,” offered Max.

Matthew took a second to consider his options. “Yeah, that’d be great,” he said.

*      *      *

Matthew had been a little afraid of getting kidnapped when Max first approached him on the highway, but now that they had parked the green Honda and walked into a luxurious building in downtown Los Angeles, Matthew wondered if he had seen “Hostel” a few times to many.

“So what is this place?” he asked.

“This building is the Head Quarters for Comics.com,” Max replied. “We buy strips from cartoonists and post them online. Pretty cool, huh?”

The hall had tall white walls lined with giant portraits of famous cartoon characters and a pair of shiny steel elevators at one end. “Are you a cartoonist?” asked Matthew.

“Haha, I wish. It’s my job to find new talent and bring their strip to the website, like a talent scout for cartoonists,” Max replied as they stepped into the elevator. “We’ve got cartoonists jobs in over 17,000 newspapers around the world. We even got Garfield that movie deal.” The elevator doors dinged open and the two of them stepped into the room. Matthew was immediately hit by a paper airplane. “These are the cartoonists,” said Max. “Most of them just send their strips from home but some of them like to come in and draw them here.” A bunch of cartoonists were laughing together in a group by the water cooler. Others were giggling over their desks, drawing and laughing at the same time. “My office is this way,” said Max as he walked off towards the back of the room.

Matthew was shocked. People were leaning back and laughing while they drew, giggling while they worked. Everybody was having fun, everybody was laughing. Maybe all work isn’t that bad, he thought as he stepped into Max’s office and closed the door behind him. “You know, I’m a cartoonist,” he said.

“Oh, yeah? You got anything for me?” asked Max.

“Sure,” said Matthew as he pulled out his black notebook. Max took it and thumbed through the pages. He giggled a few times.

“You know, we may have a spot for you on our amateur payroll list, you’ve really got something here. It’s rough around the edges, but it’s got tremendous potential. Are you interested in a job?”

“I could work from home?” he asked.

“You just mail your work in weekly,” replied Max.

Matthew was silent for a while. “Yeah, I am interested in a job here,” he said.

“Great,” replied Max excitedly as he walked out of the door. “Let me see what I can do.” Matthew sat down in one of Max’s chairs and pulled the banana from his backpack. It had ripened somewhat since he took it from home and there were some bruises on it from being banged around, but he didn’t care. Matthew peeled back the bright yellow skin, took a bite, and smiled; he hadn’t realized how hungry he had been all along.