Date: Mon, 24 Sep 2007 16:47:31 -0700 (PDT)
From: Matt Wess <cow91387@yahoo.com>
Subject: Double E: Part Ten

      I grabbed my grandfather's Smith and Wesson from downstairs, shoved
it into my belt buckle, and ran blindly out of the house thinking only of
Carrie's safety.  I didn't care that I never used a gun - if the bastard
of the killer was in her house, I would blast him away.
      For the second time that day, I found myself flooring the
accelerator in the Cherokee.  The car roared to life down the tiny
residential streets.  Carrie lived about five minutes away from my house,
at the most.
      I think I got there in one minute.
      I threw the car in park and blundered across the front lawn, gun
drawn and pointed towards the ground.
      The front door of her house was already partially ajar.  Swearing
under my breath, praying for Carrie's safety, I pushed it open the rest
of the way.  My gun crossed the threshold before I did as I pointed it
down the lonely foyer.
      I moved stealth like through the house.  Swinging around corners
and taking aim every time I entered a room.
      My breathing came in short, nervous gasps.  My palms were sweaty
against the cold handle of the gun.  Just like in Georgina's house, I
could feel the presence of the killer.
      Suddenly from behind, I heard a footstep land on the hardwood.  I
whirled around, heart ramming against my chest, ready to face the killer.
      But I found myself ready to shoot Carrie.
      "Fuck!" I exclaimed, lowering the gun.  "Do NOT sneak up on me like
that."
      In her hands, she was clutching the same photos that had been sent
to my house.  She held them up, saying, "Elijah - I - maybe, we should
stop.  I think your heart is in the right place, but Jesus, look at us,"
she said indicating to the gun and the pictures.
      "Where is he," I breathed.  "The killer, where did he go?"
      Carrie sunk down on a nearby sofa.  "I don't know, Elijah.  I
waited in my room - I - I thought I heard him move about downstairs."
She looked close to tears.  "Let's just leave this to the police.  Okay?"
      I sat down next to her.  Everything she was saying sounded logical,
but I found myself shaking my head.  "He's just trying to scare us, the
killer is."
      "He's doing a hell of a job!" Carrie exclaimed, brandishing the
photos.
      "Well I won't let him win.  If it's Eliot, then maybe I can speak
him out of this life of crime!"
      "Then you'll understand if I back out, won't you?"  I cringed
inwardly.  I knew these words were coming.  I began nodding my head.
      "Yeah," I muttered.  "For your safety.  It's my brother I am
dealing with."
      There was the sound of crunching gravel from outside.  Carrie
looked up and said, "My father is home, Elijah.  I'll see you tomorrow at
school?"
      I continued to nod blindly.  "Of course."
      Carrie led me back to my car and on the drive home, for the first
time in awhile, I felt quite alone.

Maybe I was becoming obsessed.  Maybe I needed to abort both missions and
live a normal life.  I trudged up to my room.  Was it really important to
find out Eliot's sexual orientation?  Should I just leave the murder case
to the close-minded police and allow Eliot to be arrested?
      I tossed the car keys along with the Smith and Wesson on my desk.
For a few seconds I stared at the gun - I was just about to shoot
somebody.  Never in my life had I ever attempted to shoot anything or
anybody.
      Carrie was right; things were getting out of hand.
      The pictures the killer sent were still spread out across my bed.
I crumbled each and everyone under my fist and tossed it at the
wastebasket.  Only one of them made it in.
      I feel back on my bed.  The setting autumn sun stretched like
spidery fingers across my bedroom, fractured by the random large eaves.
      The unexpected knock on my door startled me.  I lifted my head from
my pillow and called out lazily, "It's open."  The door open and in a
second I was sitting up right.  "Seamus!"
      My oldest brother came waltzing into my room.  Unlike Eliot and I,
Seamus and I had always gotten along.   The way I see it - Eliot and I
are too close in age.  There is at least a six year gap between me and
Seamus.
      He was leaning against the doorframe, arms folded.  "Thought I'd
check up on my youngest brother."
      I racked my brain trying to figure out the last time he came home.
He hated to come back here.  I folded my legs under me and patted the
foot of the bed.  "I'm terrific!" I lied boldly.
      Seamus and I looked a lot alike.  We both had short brown hair,
blue eyes, a sprinkle of freckles, and casual facial features.  He sat
down at the end of the bed.  "So what the hell are you doing home?" I
asked.
      He shrugged.  "Haven't been around lately."
      "You heard about Eliot, that's why you're home."
      "Bingo."
      I scrambled off of the bed and shut the door quietly.  Seamus
watched, saying, "The police came up to my place and asked me questions.
To tell you the truth, I don't think Eliot has it in him to murder.
      "Nor do I," I said in a hushed tone, feeling a rush of gratitude
for Seamus.  "The police are being completely closed minded.  Eliot is
their person and they won't look much further.  I've been trying to
help..."
      "So I've heard."
      "From who?  Did Eliot tell you?"
      Seamus nodded solemnly.  "He did and he didn't sound too happy.
Listen, if I were you..."
      I interrupted him.  The gratitude I felt seconds before vanished.
"If you've come to talk me out of it..."
      This time he cut me off.  "I haven't.  If you let me finish - I was
going to say that if I were you in order to help Eliot, you have to think
like him.  You basically have to put yourself in his shoes."
      Or underwear, I thought.
      "Well, we should get downstairs.  Mom has delayed dinner long
enough."  I began following him out of the room when he stopped
abruptly.  "You know how to use this," he asked, picking up the Smith and
Wesson and examining it.
      "About as well as I know how to ride a horse."
      He winced.  "Well, lucky for you, using once is like riding a
horse.  Once you learn..."
      "...you never forget," I finished his sentence.

      Seamus words stuck with me clear until the next day.  He revealed
the trick; I had to start thinking like Eliot.  Why didn't I think like
of that?  Of course!  I practically ran to the guidance office the next
day.
      It was the last day to add or drop classes.
      For the first time in my high school career I was there to add an
additional class.  I waited impatiently as my guidance counselor finished
whatever the hell he was doing in his office.  After ten minutes or so,
he finally called me in.
      My counselor was an ancient, beer-belly man.  If you asked me, he
was ready to keel over at any minute and he constantly smelt of cigars.
In his defense, he was a pretty good counselor and was a nice man to talk
with - sometimes.
      Today he was getting on my nerves.  After I explained to him what I
wanted to do, he began questioning my actions.
      "I just don't understand," he sniffed, rubbing his large walrus
nose.  "You don't need another English class, why would you get rid of
your study hall to take a class you don't need?"
      "I don't know - to get smarter?  I enjoy English classes.  I have
two other study halls in the days.  It would look good if I took another
class."
      "It would look good if you took another class and earned a
respectable grade.  Not that I doubt your abilities, Elijah."  He looked
sternly in to my eyes.  My glare was unwavering.  After a full minute he
shrugged.  "Okay - I'll add you to this class.  What did you say the
teachers name was again?"
      I beamed and said twice so that he caught the name, "Ms. Fisher.  I
hear she is a terrific teacher - she really knows what the students
want."

I sat with J.J. and Carrie at lunch that day.  J.J. and I were on much
better terms, which really lifted my spirits.  When he got up to return
his pudding (he claimed to have found a hair in it) Carrie leaned in and
said, "Did you do any more work last night?"
      I shook my head.  "My older brother Seamus stopped by, so he
occupied most of my time last night.  I'm just going to assume that you
didn't do any additional work, either."
      She looked guilty, a feeling I didn't mean to make her feel.
"Elijah...I told you..."
      "Refund my money that's what they should do," J.J. grumbled sitting
back down next to me, unknowingly intruding on mine and Carrie's
conversation.
      "They wouldn't let you switch it, then?" I asked, looking at his
pudding.
      "Those lousy workers claimed I put the hair in there! The hair was
gray!  Does it look like I have fucking gray hair?"
      Carrie and I couldn't help but to laugh, even though J.J. clearly
did not find this a laughing matter.

I had my class with Ms. Fisher as the class of the day.  I intentionally
signed up for the one Eliot was not in.  Technically he had her for class
in the morning, but of course, he also has her every other afternoon.
      Just by taking a quick look around the crowded room, I knew all the
men who took this class were here to see Ms. Fisher.  I would still admit
to the fact that, yes, she did have good looks.
      She came into the classroom right as the bell rang, her large
Chanel glasses covering her eyes.  When she lifted off the glasses, she
revealed magnificent pools of emerald green eyes.  Every male jaw hit the
desk.
      "Good afternoon class," she said in a rather sultry tone.  Once
again, all the men chirped back and I noticed the women were giving their
teacher looks of disapproval.  Ms. Fisher's eyes swept the room and
landed directly on me.  "Today we have a new student joining us - Elijah
why don't you stand up and introduce yourself?"
      I cleared myself, blushed as every head turned to look at me, and
rose to my feet.  "Hello, I'm Elijah."
      The class chorused back lazily, "Hello Elijah."
      I quickly sat back down, noticing a feel longer lasting smiles from
the girls in the room.  Did I unknowingly pick up some of Eliot's
attractive looks?  Maybe I was a lot further in his shoes than I thought.
      As the class progressed, I had to admit Ms. Fisher had decent
teaching qualities.  I expected her to be all glamour and looks, and
sawdust for brains, but she knew her stuff.  And for awhile I was
convinced that this was just another normal class.
      It wasn't until the bell rang that I was called to mind why I
signed up for this class in the first place.
      I hung back, slowly packing my book bag, waiting for the last
student to leave the room.  When I looked up Ms. Fisher and I were alone
- although she seemed to not have noticed.  She was bent over desk
writing a note of sorts.
      I hitched up my bag, swallowed over a lump in my throat and
approached her desk.  Before I could get a word out she said, without
looking up from her desk, "You're Eliot's younger brother, right?"
      Taken aback, I paused and stared at the top of her blonde head.  "I
am."  I answered nervously.  It hadn't dawned on me that Eliot might have
talked to her about me.
      "I was rather intrigued when I saw that you unexpectedly signed up
for my class."  She finally looked up and met me with dazzling eyes.
      I felt red blotches form on my cheeks.  "Oh well - yeah - about
that, I'm an English freak."  That was somewhat true.
      She smiled, showing her pearly white teeth.  "Well that's not
something to be ashamed of.  Obviously, I'm one myself.  Don't tell him I
said anything - but Eliot isn't.  He's more physical."  I almost choked,
until she added, "Physical in sports."
      "In any case, Elijah, welcome aboard!"  She returned to her work.
I wondered, did she seduce Eliot; or did he seduce her?  I tried to
imagine how Eliot would seduce someone.
      I casually loosened my tie, unbuttoned the top of my shirt, and
cleared my throat.  Ms. Fisher looked up again.  I almost bolted from the
room in a nervous wreck, but her smile was somewhat reassuring.  "Still
here, Elijah?"
      "Er...yes, I am.  I - I was j-just wondering, if you offered any
private tutoring?"
      Her smile was still plastered on her face.  "But Elijah, I thought
you just said you were an English freak.  Surely someone like you
wouldn't need tutoring."
      "James Joyce," I blurted out unexpectedly.  "Tonight's homework, we
have to read part of his short stories.  I find him difficult to
understand."
      Her smile turned into a coy one as she raised an eyebrow, studying
me.  Whether she did it on purpose or not, I'm not sure, but before she
spoke she flicked back some of her blonde hair, revealing perfect
cleavage.  "I'd be happy to help, Elijah."
      I was feeling hot all over, as if my body were raging with fire.  I
looked expectedly over at the open windows, trying to feel some sort of
breeze, but all I felt was Ms. Fishers gaze burning me down, in a sensual
manner.
      I coughed.  "Terrific.  When should we meet?"
      She leaned back in her swivel chair, crossing her slender legs.
"I'm here all night.  Faculty meeting, you see and a lot of work to catch
up on.  Bring James Joyce and we'll talk about him."
      I gave another stupid cough.  "That sounds great.  T-thanks.  See
you then."
      I hurried from her room, feeling her eyes watch me leave.  Hell, I
wasn't just wearing Eliot's shoes.  I was wearing his fucking
personality.
      A smile slipped across my face.
      So much for giving up.