The Jenkins

Untitled | Felix Randel | Digital

The Jenkins by Leila Burnett

After a long day of making his teachers’ lives miserable with a series of pranks, Luke was dropped off at home by his best friend Zola. The second that Luke opened his door his parents were standing in the mudroom. Like statues, they just stood there with an angry stare and both hands on their hips. After an awkward minute of silence, they finally spoke.

  “We received seven angry calls from your seven teachers today.” 

  “It must have been the other Luke in my class.” 

“We weren’t born yesterday! There is no other Luke Grim in your grade, nor your school.” 

Luke did not bother to respond; he had already dug himself in a very deep hole. His mother in a low but stern tone ended their conversation with the last words any teen wants to hear, “You are grounded.”

Luke stormed his way up the stairs and straight to his room. Luke's books were victims to his rage as they were swiped off the desk in his room. Luke approached his room window and stared out of it to calm himself down but something caught his eye. Luke had lived on Maple Street his entire life, but he never saw the elderly couple that lived across the street ever leave their home. Suddenly Luke forgot why he was so angry at his parents and he called for his mom.

“Have you ever seen that old couple leave their house?” Luke said while still looking out the window.

“Hmm, I haven’t seen the Jenkins since you were born.”

“Not even to buy groceries?”

“Nope,” she said, not batting an eye at how odd the circumstance was.

For the following days after coming back from school, Luke would complete his homework, have dinner, and go to his room and stare out the window. He analyzed the home. The lawn was unkempt and the red paint on the door was peeling. All he could see through the white sheer blinds was a shadow of a person walking around every now and then. Luke wanted to talk to someone else about how weird this house was. The next day after school he invited Zola over to do homework. When they finished he asked her to stand and look at the house with him.

“Have you ever seen anyone leave that house?”

“No.”

“Don't you think that’s weird?”

“Yeah, kinda. I wonder what could be going on in there?”

“I wish we could find out.”

“Actually we can.”

Zola came up with the idea that after school the next day they would knock on the door and ask for Jenkins to sign a fake petition. They hoped that they would be invited inside and finally put this mystery to rest. The next day like usual, Zola drove Luke home and they walked across the street with their fake petition to the Jenkins’ Residence. As they approached the house they both felt a weird feeling, but they continued on to the front door. Luke knocked on the door but there was nothing but silence. After a minute of waiting, the door finally cracked open. A nauseating smell came out. Luke and Zola breathed through their mouths to avoid the rotten smell. All they could see through the crack was an old man wearing oval shaped glasses with a jagged smile.

“Hello, sir! Sorry to bother you. We were hoping you would sign our petition to have a Maple Street block party next week.”

“I wish I could sign but my writing hand has arthritis so I can’t.”

Mr. Jenkins quickly closed the door pushing out another puff of the putrid smell. This interaction only raised more questions and fueled their curiosity even further. They went back to Luke's house and debriefed.

“What could he be hiding?”

“I have no idea. I’ve lived across the street from him my whole life and that was the most I've seen of him.”

“What was that horrible smell?”

“Maybe it was him. We might've interrupted his bathroom break.”

Since it was a Friday, Zola’s parents allowed her to spend the night. For hours they ate chips and stared through the window. Finally Luke was tired of the suspense.

“We have to see what’s going on inside that house.”

“But how?”

“They're old, they probably have a key under a rock.”

That night they planned to break in at 2 a.m. They brought flashlights and snuck out of Luke’s home to begin their investigation. They quietly approached the house and Luke looked around and found a big rock. He flipped the rock over and he was right, a rusty key was underneath. Luke grabbed the key and slowly opened the door. The smell hit them in the face like a tidal wave but they continued into the house. They turned on their flashlights and looked around. The house had antiques and fine china, it was a typical house for an elderly couple. Zola got tired of snooping around and whispered to Luke, “Luke, it seems normal, let's just leave.”

“Hold on. I think they are sitting on the couch.”

The television was playing a repeated infomercial so the Jenkins were definitely asleep. They walked quietly behind the couch and could see the top of the couple’s heads. Finally Zola and Luke decided to go around the couch and face the couple. They wanted to see what they really looked like. When they faced the couple they dropped their flashlights in fear. Mr. Jenkins was holding the hand of his deteriorating wife. Mrs. Jenkins was dead! She must have been dead for sixteen years. Luke and Zola sprinted out of the house without looking back. They snuck back into Luke’s house and climbed into their sleeping bags.

“We can never tell anyone what we saw”

“I swear I won’t.”

“We take this to our grave.”

The next morning Zola left before breakfast. Luke loved pancakes, but he knew nothing would stay in his stomach after what he saw last night. During breakfast, he was silent until his mother pointed the conversation to him.

“A letter came in the mail for you.”

“Did you read it?”

“No, I'm trying to respect your privacy.”

Luke excused himself from the dining table and took the letter in his room. He frantically ripped open the envelope to a card that had a smiley face on it. Luke opened the card and ikmmediately dropped it on the floor. Three words were inside the card.

“Everybody grieves differently.”