Young Blood, Act I

Amy Franklin wasn’t exactly thrilled for even the concept of the night ahead of her. At thirteen, who could possibly feel any form of excitement to hang around a bunch of adults and some kid they didn’t know? Sitting awkwardly and listening about what politicians her parents did and didn’t like wasn’t exactly “good times” in her opinion.

This was bad enough when she had to make nice when there were guests in her own home. However when she had to play the role of "guest" it was like what she imagined being driven to the jailhouse must feel like. She felt only dread about being dragged somewhere she wasn't familiar with. Besides, who knew how long she'd be there?

Not exactly one to go down without a fight though, Amy let out a bitter mutter of defiance.

“I don’t see why I had to come to this too. How do we even know these people again?”

Her father, a well humored man in thick rimmed glasses, peeked at her in the rearview mirror. He had always been quick to see the glass half-full, but he did have a bit of a weakness in being unable to tell people “no”. That of course being a huge catalyst to this night in general.

Clearing his throat, he said, “Mark’s a work acquaintance and he invited the whole family over. That includes you, Sunshine.”

Amy rolled her eyes to the nickname “Sunshine”. It was an irritating little moniker that had always existed but really picked up after Amy decided to change her style. Once the teen years hit--a few months ago--she really took more to darker clothes. It even got to the point she begged her parents to dye her hair a dark blue. So it became evident pretty fast that her father found calling her Sunshine after all of that to be a bit funny. There was something to say about the incomparable strength of "dad humor", that was certain.

Of course right after her father gave his reasoning, Amy’s mother stepped in as well.

“You’ll be fine, Hon,” she said while looking over her shoulder. “It’s just one night. Besides, who knows? It could be more fun than you’re expecting.”

Her mother was a pleasant enough woman, if not a bit of a health nut. She kept her hair in a tight ponytail and often wore clothes fit for exercise. At least for tonight she was in slacks and a nice blouse rather than her sweats. As one could expect, she was very much the Type A in the family.

Amy sighed in defeat.

“Yeah right…” Then a thought occurred to her. “Aren’t you the guys always saying not to cave in to peer pressure? Doesn’t it stop after high school?”

“Cold reality time, Kiddo. It never really stops” her father chuckled. “It just stops being about drugs and alcohol--”

“That’s not necessarily true,” her mother interjected, an amused lilt to her voice.

Her father laughed a bit more enthusiastically before finally saying, “Valid. Very valid. More to the point though, peer pressure does just tend to shift to the mundane after a certain age. Potlucks, fundraisers, stuff like that. Sorry, Sunshine.”

After a rather grueling drive they finally made it to their destination. The Franklin family filed out of their car once it was parked at the curb. Before them was a rather bog standard looking home. It was practically a box with a lawn in front of it. There was literally nothing that stood out about it from its color, to any decorations, not even any flora or foliage to speak of.

A perfect phrase to describe this supposed home was probably; sterile. It had a similar vibe to an empty hospital hallway or a storefront that hadn’t been occupied in some time. In simplified terms, Amy didn’t care for it.

On the walk up to the door, it was clear her father did at least feel a little guilty about all this. For even upon exiting the vehicle he kept trying to talk up the night ahead.

“... Besides, it won’t be all that bad. Their son is your age, you know.”

Deciding to throw the old dog a bone, Amy smirked in a semi-amused way.

“Why does this suddenly sound like you’re trying to sell me off to the boss’s son?” she snarked, putting her hands in her jacket pockets.

In his usual easily-amused way, he let out another snort of a laugh.

“No, nothing like that,” he assured. “It’s just their son is home schooled and apparently has to be a bit reclusive because of his health.” Just as they reached the door, he turned back to Amy and even knelt down to be at her level. “Look, I’m very sorry for pulling this on you with such short notice. I promise, I will make it up to you. Just play nice for a few hours and then we can go, okay?”

As annoyed as she was, she knew her father wasn’t doing this to torture her specifically. He was a good dad and she knew that. It was just a few hours, she could certainly manage if he asked her like that. So with a small smile she nodded her approval.

After giving her an affectionate pat on the shoulder, he straightened up, and turned towards the doorbell. The chime it emitted once Amy’s father pushed it was particularly audible. Even from the outside it sounded as clear as a bell. Though its notes were less like wedding bells and far more like funeral ones, the pitch and timber of the peals being unpleasantly low.

The three chimes that rang from the house set Amy more and more on edge. The door was then abruptly swung inward. Standing on the inside was a tall man with a perfectly bald head. Plastered on his face was a Cheshire Cat-like grin as he held his arms wide open.

“Right on time!” he announced in a sickly sweet voice.

As he welcomed them into the home, asking them if they had found the place alright, Amy took some time to look around. Not that there was actually that much to see. For as barren as the exterior seemed, the interior was far worse. The walls were completely devoid of pictures and there was very little furniture, save for two couches and a coffee table between them. It was hard to believe anyone lived here, let alone a family of three.

“You have a very lovely home,” Amy’s mother said. The strained nature of her voice told Amy she was having similar thoughts about the décor here, however.

“Hm? Ah, yes, we’ve been really into the whole minimalism thing lately. Less things, more space, you know,” Mark the work acquaintance explained. He then raised his voice slightly and called out, “Nancy, Honey! The Franklins are here!”

Not even a few feet away where a simple archway led into what was clearly the kitchen, Mark’s wife appeared. Much like her husband she was all smiles. However there was no life behind her eyes that could be seen. There was a bit of a disheveled nature to her overall appearance; such as her hair not being as entirely neat as the rest of her façade. It appeared she had tried to put on some makeup at some point but gave up after her eyes.

“Welcome to our home,” she said in a pleasant but wispy sounding voice.

Almost immediately Nancy’s eyes landed on Amy. Slowly she began to draw towards her, like a predator stalking its prey. Once she was close enough she knelt down to be at the girl’s height. It was hard to say if she was simply trying to come off as non-threatening or was sizing her up. Either way, it made Amy uncomfortable as Nancy’s eyes almost seemed to look right through her.

“You must be Amy,” Nancy cooed. “Aren’t you pretty? You know… our son is about your age.”

Amy swallowed nervously.

“Yeah… my dad was saying that.”

With that Nancy’s smile faltered ever so slightly. It was subtle, but Amy could have sworn she saw her eyes mist up. Before she could have been certain of that though, Nancy was back on her feet. She had turned to a set of stairs going upwards and called up them.

“Henry, we have guests!”

At first there was no response. There wasn’t even the sound of movement from upstairs to prove anyone was even up there. After a moment had passed, a set of feet began slowly slinking down the staircase. His footsteps hardly made a sound as he went. This came as no surprise when he finally came into full view.

Henry had very little meat on his bones. He was also kind of runty looking in general, with a diminished looking height and narrow shoulders. His hair was also quite thin and seemed as brittle as the rest of him. Not to mention his face that was fairly sunken and sallow skinned. It became very evident very quickly why his health kept him reclusive.

As he reached the end of the stairs he, like his parents, smiled. Unlike his parents though his smile seemed very genuine. There was even a pleasant gleam to his eyes that the rest of his family did not share. Even as he spoke--although his words came out feebly--there was a warmth and charm to what he said.

“Hello everyone. Sorry to keep you waiting.”

The Franklins did not seem to know how to respond to this. None of them had exactly been briefed on Henry’s condition, at least not to an extent to know what to expect. It was Amy’s father who spoke up first.

“Hey… no worries, Buddy” he said in that somewhat awkwardly patronizing manner that only fathers could somehow manage.

Mark then clapped his hands together to break up the sudden mood shift. This mostly affected the Franklins as they flinched and turned to the grinning man.

“Alright, let’s get this show on the road! Dinner will still be a minute, so Henry, why don’t you show Amy the game room?”

Henry nodded at his father. “Sure thing, right this way.”

He then slowly moved to a door beside the upstairs staircase. Opening it, it revealed another set of stairs that led downward. Immediately it made Amy’s insides run cold. The sight of stairs leading down into darkness had immediately flipped a panic switch inside her mind. Turning back to her parents desperately, they too shared a look of uncertainty.

This was unfortunately short lived, as they then gave her a set of nervous smiles.

“Go ahead, it’ll be fine,” her mother assured.

“See you in a little bit,” her father followed up.

Defeated yet again, Amy nodded, and followed Henry down into the dark--the door gently closing behind them.

With each step downward the darkness became more suffocating. Henry’s silent footsteps only added to her anxiety, making it seem as if she were suddenly alone in the enveloping blackness. Soon, though, the shadows were split by the opening of a second door that led into another well lit room.

On the other side was a much cozier looking space. There was an assortment of bean bag chairs lying around, a foosball table, a sizable television with a few different gaming systems attached to it. A rather sizable shelf was just offside to the T.V. holding a variety of games--both of the video and board variety--as well as movies and little collectibles.

“Whoa… guess the minimalism rule is just for upstairs, huh?” said Amy in surprise.

Henry let out a weak little chuckle as he led her further inward.

“Something like that.” He then motioned to the room as a whole with his hand before saying, “Guest’s choice, we can do whatever you’d like.”

“Oh, okay” Amy said, lacking certainty. She then looked around at all of her options, even noticing some new things like a small basketball hoop and a dart board as well. “Man, there’s so many options, I’m not sure…”

Henry shrugged before slumping down into a beanbag chair.

“No pressure. ‘Nothing’ is as much of a choice as ‘something’.”

Something about Henry’s laid back nature put Amy more at ease. It reminded her of what her father had said, to just play nice for a few hours. With someone like Henry it at least made that request feel easy. So instead of picking from the countless activities available, she chose to sit down in a bean bag opposite of him.

“So, what do your parents do to afford all this?”

“Well, Dad does the same thing yours does. My mom used to be a professor before I got really sick.”

Amy looked over Henry for a moment. It was a little upsetting to see someone so young appear so feeble. In fact he almost looked near death. As much as she knew she shouldn’t, she couldn’t help but let slip one question.

“So… What do you have, if you don’t mind me asking?” As expected, regret immediately kicked in. “Shit, that was insensitive of me wasn’t--I mean, crap!” She could feel the heat rise in her face with every next word she said. Cupping her face a bit, she bemoaned, “I’m sorry. Once the parents are gone my censor turns off.”

To her surprise there was a bit of a more healthy laugh from Henry. Looking over to him, he was smiling in an amused fashion.

“I’m sick, not completely sheltered,” he assured. “Say whatever the hell you want.”

Again Amy was put at ease. Henry proved to be rather easy to talk to which was surprising to her. She supposed that’s what she got for assuming. Lounging back a bit more she faced him a bit more confidently again.

“My bad, I just hate to assume. Manners matter and all that shit.”

Henry chuckled again, “Fair enough. As for my condition, it’s rare. I’d honestly rather not get into it and spoil the mood.”

Amy threw up her hands and nodded.

“That’s cool, I can totally respect that.” She then paused only briefly before adding, “Did you get to name it?”

Henry grinned.

“It’s not that rare, I’d be bragging about that much if it was I think.”

“You do seem pretty chill about it,” Amy said while throwing her ankle over her knee. “So either it’s super serious and you’re at peace with it or it’s not that serious, yeah?”

Henry shrugged at that statement.

“It’s kind of a crap shoot, really. It has left me pretty delicate, even going outside is too much for me anymore.” He then paused a bit as he began to wince slightly. Then with a meek smile he added, “And it’s been a nightmare on my diet.”

#

Once Amy had gone downstairs, Nancy had offered to get everyone some refreshments. After she retired to the kitchen Lucas and Clair Franklin took a seat with Mark and began engaging in idle chit-chat.

“--And of course the whole time, I have no idea what this guy’s talking about. But long story short I ended up paying him two-hundred dollars just to get him to leave me alone. I never did see that ‘thank you’ postcard, either,” Lucas was saying.

“Oldest trick in the book, pretend to be a charity” Clair chuckled, reminiscing on this incident.

“Yeah, just goes to show how useless I get under pressure,” Lucas added, snickering.

Mark let out another one of his trademark hearty laughs, smacking his knee aggressively.

“Now come on don’t sell yourself so short, you handled the Baker Account just fine” he said through his laughter.

“Oh believe me, I have a million stories, you can ask my wife--”

Before he could finish his statement completely, Nancy returned into the room. She was carrying out a tray of four stemmed glasses and a corked bottle of wine. Still she was smiling, only now there was an odd sense of weariness to it. Almost as if she was looking forward to this ending more than anyone else.

Lucas and Clair looked at the offering awkwardly as Nancy placed it down on the coffee table. This was not even necessarily because of Nancy’s appearance however. Unfortunately the night had officially begun its downturn before it was even supposed to start.

“Oh, er… Hate to be a party pooper guys” Lucas said suddenly as Mark was just getting ready to uncork the bottle and was halfway through how “primo” the vintage was. “But, I’m actually a recovering alcoholic.”

It was almost as if someone had hit pause in real time. All movement stopped. Expressions neither shifted to confusion, concern, nor annoyance. Overall this was actually a more uncomfortable response than some Lucas had received in the past. Any other time he brought this up at parties people either got really apologetic for no reason, or it felt as if he had just said he condoned all rape and murder without question.

A dead stop though, that was a new one.

“Not that you can’t enjoy it for yourselves” he added, hoping to salvage the evening. “I’m pretty far along, I can be in a room with it. I just can’t partake.”

“Exactly, we still have several friends that drink and it’s no big deal if you want to indulge” Clair threw in, as she had joined Lucas in his sobriety when he had started.

Though Mark had yet to come fully out of his freeze, Nancy had managed to unstick herself. She took the wine bottle back from her husband and tapped a nail on its neck nervously. Her entire behavior from earlier had melted away in fact. With her smile gone, Nancy looked exhausted and the growing troubled expression on her face didn’t help that.

“No… no that would be rude,” she finally said in a timid little voice. “I have some sodas for Henry. Let me go grab those.”

She then silently excused herself back into the kitchen. As she did, Mark finally returned to reality as well to watch her go. His expression also had returned to a relaxed state and he too looked incredibly tired without his grin. However upon remembering his guests were still here, the smile had practically smacked itself back onto his face.

“We’re sorry, we didn’t mean to offend,” said Clair awkwardly.

Mark waved it off. Though his cheery disposition had somewhat returned there was a lazier air about it now. The movements of his body being far less snappy and his voice sounding a tad more strained.

“No, no worries at all. You know how it is, nobody wants to be a bad host. Let me go talk to her, it’ll all be fine.”

Mark then excused himself as well, leaving Lucas and Clair alone to wonder what exactly was going on.

#

Amy and Henry had pushed their beanbags closer together. At this point they were even practically a three dimensional Venn diagram. Leaning over her own bag she was sharing the screen of her phone while the two watched videos she had downloaded and laughed themselves silly. After introductions were well out of the way, the two actually got along quite well.

They had a few things in common, such as liking and disliking a lot of the same subjects when it came to school work. On top of that their senses of humor were nearly identical; both loving silly animals as well as watching pranks gone awry. So the natural conclusion was to simply start watching videos of such things while they waited for dinner time.

“Can’t believe you haven’t seen that one yet! Me and my friends have been quoting it non-stop!” Amy declared through her laughter.

“I can’t blame you for that. God, that’s good stuff” Henry chortled. “Man, I haven’t laughed this hard in some time.”

Amy leaned on her bean bag to the point she was practically more on his.

“I guess since you’ve been sick and moving around it’s been hard to hang with people, huh?”

Another part of Henry she had learned before they devolved to watching videos is that his family had been almost constantly moving for a few years. Just as he was getting comfortable they’d need to move on to another city. It was a tale as old as time, busy parents tearing up their kid’s roots rather than leaving well enough alone.

Hearing that had left a bad taste in Amy’s mouth, but ultimately it explained a lot as well. Especially her very reason for being there that night. She was all too aware of this and it made her feel a little angry and sad on Henry’s behalf. He of course, much like with his own illness, took this in stride as well.

“Yeah, I mean, that’s why my parents set up these little ‘playdates’ in the first place…” he trailed off for a moment before looking at her somewhat sheepishly. “This is the first one that’s been particularly fun in a while though. Most of the others just play the games and ignore me the whole night.”

Amy frowned.

“That’s shitty of them, you’re a cool guy.”

Henry gave another trademarked shrug.

“I mean, I get it. Who wants to be forced to hang out with someone, you know?”

Amy didn’t feel that was really a fair enough answer. Not that this feeling mattered or would ever get across however. Suddenly Henry winced in pain again and grabbed at his stomach. This made Amy forget entirely what she was going to say as a look of concern washed over her.

“You okay?” she asked.

“Yeah…” said Henry. His voice was strained but the look on his face told her that the pain was already going away. He then added weakly, “Just getting hungry.”

#

“Things seem off to you too, right?” Clair asked her husband in a muttered tone.

Mark and Nancy had been in the kitchen for a bit of time. A gentle murmuring could be heard from the room they were in but no real tones or words could be made out. The only other sounds that could be made out were the distinct opening and closing of drawers and cabinets.

Eyeing his wife nervously, Lucas nodded.

“Yeah… not only was that kind of a weird reaction but…” he stopped a moment and smelled the air to confirm his suspicions. Noting that he was probably right, he went on, “But do you smell any food at all?”

Clair shook her head cautiously.

“Not at all. I don’t think I’m very comfortable having Amy here anymore” her voice had gone down slightly, in both worry and severity. “Let’s make an excuse and go, now.”

“Who wants a drink?”

Mark and Nancy had reentered the room. It would appear that Mark had regained all his earlier energy and confidence back after the earlier hiccup. Nancy however had clearly not. Her smile almost refused to come back and she looked more tired than ever. In fact, her face had notably grown quite pale.

Mark had put down two sodas and shimmied back onto his seat on the couch facing them, where Nancy continued to stand. One of her hands was gripping the hem of the pocket of her apron with a white-knuckle intensity. Noting that, Clair gave a look to her husband. Lucas had never exactly been one to be confrontational. However with the sudden concern for his family on the line, he lied as if it were nothing.

“We’d love to. But… Clair’s unfortunately not feeling well.”

Clair nodded, hopping aboard her lover’s excuse like a pro.

“Yeah, I’ve had a migraine all day. I thought I’d shaken it, but it’s back with a vengeance. I’m so sorry, I really need to get home to my medication.”

There was another real life pause for a moment. This one did not last nearly as long, merely a few seconds where it seemed they needed to buffer. In that instant though all of Mark’s composure from earlier had fallen and the lazier smile and voice had returned.

“I see… that’s a real shame.”

In a complete turn around, Nancy had somehow regained all of her composure instead. Her smile broadened and she had managed to find her voice again.

“You poor thing. I think we have something for migraines up in our cabinet. Why don’t you take one for the road so you’re not suffering the whole way?”

Knowing they were in too deep, Lucas and Clair both nodded politely. Nancy then gently gripped Clair by the wrist and motioned her head toward the stairs. With a last exchange of nervous glances Clair got the gist that Nancy wanted her to go up the stairs with her. Not wanting to be too rude and possibly set a match to this powder keg, Clair half heartedly followed her upstairs.

This left each Franklin alone with one member of the peculiar and growingly daunting family.

End of Act I