arnaud thecaptain forgeron d9

JB's been tellin' me I gotta tell somebody about what's been going through my head. See, I'm too insistent on telling him I'm alright all the time, even when he knows I’m not. Don’t know if he’s right in saying that myself, but it’s a brother thing, he says, can read my face like a book. I guess Ma didn’t pass that ability onto me any, since I never could tell what JB was thinking. Never can now. So he went and found me this cassette recorder, with some tapes too. Had some old music on ‘em before but JB told me it wasn’t a big deal if I recorded over them since he found ‘em in the junk anyhow. Probably no one lookin’ for 'em. Says a real Captain takes down all his notes so that when he goes down with the ship they really know what happened. I don’t own a ship, but I am The Captain, and I figure if I ever die, JB or someone will hear these tapes and know just what happened with me ’til here and now.

JB’s my brother, real blood, born from the same Ma. His name is Jean-Baptiste but that’s a hell of a lot of syllables so we call him JB pretty much always since I could remember. Never heard anyone call him Jean-Baptiste ‘less it was Ma gettin’ angry or something. We’ve always liked nicknames here - everyone’s got one. I’m The Captain. Everybody calls me that. ‘Cept JB, he’ll call me Arnie sometimes when people aren’t around. Sometimes when people are around too, but he knows that gets me real red in the face. Everyone knows if they try to call me Arnie they’ll get socked right there for even trying. I got fists of steel and I’ll break a nose if someone doesn’t show The Captain the respect he, I, deserve. The name Ma gave me is Arnaud, but just like with JB though, no one calls me that ‘less I’ve been in real trouble. Since Ma left there aren’t many people around who know me as anything but The Captain and that's perfectly okay with me.

Been ‘bout four years or so since Ma’ left us now, don’t really know what got her in the end ‘cause I didn’t ask. Not that any of it’d make any sense to me anyhow, all I know's she got real sick for a long time after Pap got framed and taken away by the Peacekeepers. I like to think she died from missin’ Pap so much ‘cause I miss him a lot too. JB doesn’t feel the same way about Pap that I do and sometimes that makes me real mad, but I don’t tell JB anything 'bout it. He’s just too young, he’s only fourteen, I’m sixteen, maybe when he’s older he’ll understand. Ma took good care of us ’til she couldn’t get out of bed anymore, then we took turns taking care of her.

JB is the listenin’ type, and he’s heard a whole lot of things that people say Pap did that I know aren’t true. How? Pap told me himself not to believe anything they said bout him, looked me right in the eyes too so I know it’s all true. Pap’s never lied to me once, never. JB was way too young when Pap was taken away so he’s more open to hearing those kinds of rumors, but I bet if he remembered Pap the way I do, he would never try and tell me that Pap is a bad man and criminal. I never listen to JB anyways when it comes to Pap, that’s the one area I know I’m the expert in.

Ma’ used to say I look a lot like Pap when he was younger. We have the same shaped eyes, coconut brown in color, and he carried over gruff caterpillar eyebrows that I let grow wild. I don’t waste my time in the grooming area. Where Pap always looked prim and proper, me, I don’t clean up my face too much. When I see Pap’s thin smirk in the picture I carry of him in my pocket, I see it too in the mirror - all I got from Ma’ was her petite button nose, with a little bulb on the end, a small skitter bite on the tip. The last time I seen him, Pap was a full foot over me but now I bet I’d stand to his eye level since I grew lots last summer. Kept growing out of all my clothes with buttons, so ’til I’m done growing I’m only allowed to wear clothes with an elastic stretch. Can’t keep spendin’ money on clothes just cause my body don’t know when to quit. But maybe that's just genetic cause I never have known when to quit? Why would I? Nothing would get done if all I did every day was mope around but missin' my parents. I got JB to take care of since I'm the man of the house now.

I've always been doin' it for me and JB. Ever since Ma left, I tried to keep us the house for a while. Left school so I could start workin' in the factories - was never good at any of the book nothings anyways. I was built sideways not longways, and they're always lookin' for stockier guys in the factory. I started young, ya know? That's why I got all the muscle on me, ain't just from punching some Arnie-sayers in the mouth or nothing, I been working for four years now. Get this, right - professional demolisher. Ain't that fancy? Got a title and all that too. Most of the time it's just me getting gears unscrewed when they're stuck from recyclable material, but sometimes if a house burns on fire or somethin' in the District, they'll let me and the boys knock it down with sledgehammers. Maybe that's why I've been growing so much ya know, I knocked quite a few houses down last year. Maggie Thorold, she's this girl I know from a house down the street, she said my arms have been looking "defined." I told JB she said that and he told me she's just flirtin' and stuff, but I've flirted with girls before and I think maybe she just thought my arms looked good. I definitely have noticed the difference.

JB was always better at school anyways, he was readin' books before I even tried, so I just gave up and let him do the thinking part, and me, I do the doing part. But it wasn't enough. Pap was a better man at working than me I guess, because when Ma's pockets were empty it didn't take long for us to have to hit the streets. Sometimes I think maybe if I'd worked more hours, maybe JB and me would still be living where we grew up, but I goofed off a lot with Jet and the boys back then. I used to ask all the time but JB said he wasn't angry, I can never tell. Sometimes I think he hates me for not trying hard enough to save our home, but he'd never say nothing, he's too good of a kid.

We do good anyway, me and JB, with livin' and all that. We're real resourceful. I got the street smarts, and JB's got all the other smarts, so combined we're the best brother duo in the world. That might be a big claim, but I gotta tell you we're pretty stellar. After we got thrown on the streets, JB found us some real good places to stay. Hidden in the cracks of buildings, small abandoned alcoves in between factories. Every so often we'll have to move shop if some Peacekeepers find our sleeping bags layin' 'round, but it's been a bit of time now since we been forced to move and I'm thinking maybe we finally found the sweet spot. It's been nice to feel a little bit of stability and a place to come back to after work, and I never get sick of time with JB.

When he's big and goes off to study, I'm thinkin' of studying myself. I wanna be an airplane mechanic, build 'em and stuff. I've always loved planes ever since I was little, seein' 'em flying across the sky over the Districts, travellin'. They're so beautiful. Imaginin' building one gets me all excited. The boys at work say I don't got any chance at being that kind of mechanic, Jet says I gotta know math and sciences to do that sort of thing, but I just tell 'em to knock it off. I got two good hands and each of them knows how to do good things, just point me in a direction to build and I'll do it, ya know? So I don't listen to any of 'em. I'm gonna be buildin' those airplanes one day and it'll be The Captain gettin' the last laugh. I can pick up the learning, you just gotta tell me the directions. Not everyone's gotta have their nose all stuck up in a book to do the important stuff. I'm trustworthy. I'm strong. I can build a plane.

I don't think JB thinks I'm serious about it neither. Sometimes it seems like he's just gassin' me up saying yes' and mhm's when I'm talkin' 'bout it but he doesn't try and shoot me down as much, and that's why I love my brother. He knows that when I put my mind to it, The Captain will make sure it gets done, I'm tricky like that. But that's some years away. I'll be protecting JB well until he's no longer eligible to be reaped, so I'll be stuck here into my twenties.

Sometimes, when I think about it, I get so angry that I want to cry. But I don't like to show that side in front of JB, don't want him thinkin' he's to blame for my mistakes. If I'd worked harder I could have kept the house, and when Pap comes home he's going to be so disappointed that it isn't still there, and Ma isn't either - and his JB is livin' on the streets. I try not to think about it too much 'cause my face feels beet red and it feels like steam is poppin' out my ears and it doesn't ever stop 'til I punch something in the - (sigh)

I think that's why JB wanted me to talk to someone. I think sometimes I worry him but - I'm the big brother. It's not his job to make sure that I'm okay. It only matters that he is.