Keep Your Feet On The Ground {1}

Concerning: The parent(s)/guardian(s) of EMBERLY, JACK J.

IF THIS NOTICE IS NOT RELATED TO YOU, PLEASE DISREGARD IMMEDIATELY AND RETURN TO SENDER.

THANK YOU.

To whom it may concern, the International Source of Independent Junior Soldiers Academy is glad to inform you that your child/charge EMBERLY, JACK J. has been specifically selected by the President of the Junior Soldiers Board to attend the Independent Soldiers Academy.

Due to outstanding test scores and recommendations, your child/charge EMBERLY, JACK J. has exceeded expectations with a phenomenal student record. Please consider this opportunity. Respond in 48 hours, by 5:00 PM, August 7th. Your cooperation is appreciated.

For a better world tomorrow,

Gary Airhart, Vice President

God, they even include the middle initial? Trying to make a joke out of it, and failing, he started taking in deep breaths, calming breaths. It wasn’t working. How could this have happened? Why now? Jack clenched his jaw and stared at the curly signature at the bottom. Why did he have to be so damn smart? So good at everything he did? Even when he didn’t care about anything anymore, things still turned out in his favor. Not meaning that his favor was his own personal interest.

The world is rigged. And I’m the cheater, the unintentional victim. Give this to someone who wants it, someone who needs it— I do not classify for either of those. Leave me alone.

Alone, alone, alone. Let me live a normal life, one where I can be just a regular over-achiever. I just want to be normal.

But he was anything but normal. And he knew that. Everyone knew that. Hell, the ISIJS knew that, and now they were roping him in, into a web he would never be able to get out of. He understood that all too clearly. There were boys out there who actually want this to happen to them. They want to be a hero, they want to save the world. But they had no idea of the cost. Ignorant, eager idiots.

‘For a better world tomorrow.’ I hope you choke, Mr. Gary Airhart. You have no idea what you put those kids through. They become tortured little killing machines, experts in combat that would make any man from the Marines, or the Army come to their knees. Well, one thing is for sure, Airhart. I do not intend on becoming a ruthless murdering ghost of a boy. You can count on that.

Even as these thoughts filled with rage flew through his shaken mind, his defiance began to crumble underneath him in one big heap. Year after year, letter after letter, since he turned five years old. It was almost a ritual now. Every summer, when he got back from training, he ignored the fact that he had been manipulated into more of a monster, and had become less of Jack. He realized it, and kept the most important part of him real. It was hard. Too hard. And every September, he and his parents prayed that this time it would be different, that maybe they might forget about perfect Jack, or decided that this just wasn’t for him.

But they never forgot.

And they never changed their minds.

Perfect little Jack was just a little too perfect to be forgotten.

They wanted him. They needed him.

Damn you and your demands. His shaking, angry hands ripped the paper into tiny shreds. What would his parents do this time? His sister would look at him with those sad eyes, giving him a gaze that he would remember perfectly for a year. She would hug him tightly. His mother would break down, crying, as always. His father would pinch the bridge of his nose, push up his glasses, and sigh the familiar sigh laced with grief. That sigh was always saved for that day in September. It would be best if the news could be held off until as long as possible. He only had a few more weeks with his family, just because he knew it now didn’t mean that they had to. He wanted them to be happy, if just for a few more weeks.

Tinier, and tinier shreds of paper were produced, and he cast them into the grill fire of the backyard. Burning, burning, burning. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. As if it never was.

But that won’t stop them from finding me.