Post by SomethingAboutTheStars on Jan 3, 2012 1:07:18 GMT -5
This is actually a ridiculous, pointless chapter. So I'm posting two of them.
Prologue: thegreysonchanceforum.com/index.c....read=789&page=1
Chapter 1: www.thegreysonchanceforum.com/ind....play&thread=793
Chapter 2: thegreysonchanceforum.com/index.c....play&thread=796
Chapter 3: thegreysonchanceforum.com/index.c....play&thread=798
Chapter 4: thegreysonchanceforum.com/index.cgi?board=fiction&action=display&thread=807
Chapter 5: You're already here!
Chapter 6: thegreysonchanceforum.com/index.cgi?action=display&board=fiction&thread=811
Stephen and I are both licensed, so that’s not our main problem. Our main problem is the car. Stephen’s dad is the one with the car today—he had to run on a coffee errand or something, Stephen tells me. I don’t want to take a cab; I have no money to pay for it. Stephen offers, but I turn to him with such a glare he backs down. “If looks could kill,” he says, laughing nervously.
We discuss other options. Horse and buggy ride? I decline. We have to pay for that too. Bikes? Stephen reminds me that it’s snowing. The ideas start getting ridiculous. Fly? We don’t have wings. Steal a car? Bad idea in general. It hurts me, but our final decision is to wait for Stephen’s dad to come back.
I twirl the bent straw between my fingers, it bends more. I want to reach across and grab Stephen’s phone to call his dad again, but it’s been only five minutes since the last call. He still has about an hour until he comes. To distract myself, I try and focus on breaking the plastic straw. I twist it tighter and tighter, watching the middle get thinner and thinner, like a corset being pulled around a woman’s waist. I feel like I have a corset on. I can’t breathe. I need to know, I need to know. What’s hidden at my school, in the band room?
The more I continue to turn the straw around, knotting it, the more I feel like I can’t breathe. It’s like I’m the straw. I stop and throw the straw away so I don’t snap it’s middle.
Stephen’s phone rings, and I jump up. But Stephen’s already got it in his hands and answering it. “Hey, dad,” he says.
I watch with a banging heart.
“Yeah, sure, I will. Alright, thanks.” Stephen hits the off button and looks at me. I look back at him hopefully. He shakes his head. “Nope. I’m just supposed to lock up the café. He’ll be home late. We have to wait until tomorrow. Sorry kid,” Stephen reaches over to pet my head. I toss his hand to the side before he can.
“Well,” Stephen looks to the clock on the wall. It’s almost seven. “The two people left have until seven to go home.”
I look around. “We’re the only two people left.”
Stephen nods.
“And you’re already home,” I point out. Stephen’s house is above the café.
“You aren’t.”
“Nice, Stephen. Okay, I get it. I’m leaving.” I stand up from my chair.
Stephen catches my hand. “I’m giving you a ride,” he says.
“We’ve been through this before, Stephen,” I sigh. I’m not really in the mood to argue with him.
“Yeah, I know. But this time, it’s dark. And snowing, to top it off.” I don’t believe him. That’s a lot of snow for two days. But he points and I turn to look out the large café windows. Beyond the glass and the flip open sign, I see little flurries dancing in the orange glow of the street lamp outside.
I try and cover a shiver, which only proves Stephen’s point. But he sees it anyways.
“We’re right next to the windows!” I argue. He smiles. I get up and start to walk to the door. But Stephen’s faster than I am. He blocks the door.
“Not now, Stephen,” I grouch.
“Alright. I won’t drive you home. But you have to choose. Stay here or I call a cab.”
I exhale slowly. “Call a cab then.”
Stephen smiles and leaves to find a taxi.
But I leave before he’s even dialed the number.
“Laurence!” Stephen calls. I hear the bell on the café door ring, signaling someone opening it. I start running. There’s footsteps behind me and then they speed up too.
He’s chasing me again. But the snow is thick and it’s hard to see. I can lose him. I get to a crosswalk, slow down, jog across the street. He still follows.
I start running again. I’m five blocks from my house. And as I look ahead at the next crosswalk, I know I’m not going to make it. So I run faster and faster, and then swerve suddenly. But my shoes don’t have enough traction and I’m sliding, I’m sliding, right into a lamp post. He’s still following me. I get up as fast as I can and then I’m running again. But the snow is making me dizzy, it’s swirling around me. I’m confused, I’m confused, and then I’m sliding again. I’m sliding again and then I’m falling, falling, and I crash to the sidewalk.
“Laurie!”
The snow feels so nice now. I’d rather fall on it than concrete or asphalt. I lift my head slowly. “Hi Stephen,” I say.
“Nice one,” he says, picking me out of the snow. “Now will you let me drive you home?”
“Fine,” I sigh. I reach into my pocket and shove a bead into his fingers. He groans back at me. “Your choice. I can walk from here. Or I can keep on owing you.”
“God, Laurence, why do you make it so hard for me to do favors for you?”
“You’ve done too much already.”
“Whatever. I’ll take the bead. You’re getting driven home.”
Prologue: thegreysonchanceforum.com/index.c....read=789&page=1
Chapter 1: www.thegreysonchanceforum.com/ind....play&thread=793
Chapter 2: thegreysonchanceforum.com/index.c....play&thread=796
Chapter 3: thegreysonchanceforum.com/index.c....play&thread=798
Chapter 4: thegreysonchanceforum.com/index.cgi?board=fiction&action=display&thread=807
Chapter 5: You're already here!
Chapter 6: thegreysonchanceforum.com/index.cgi?action=display&board=fiction&thread=811
Chapter 5
Laurence
Stephen and I are both licensed, so that’s not our main problem. Our main problem is the car. Stephen’s dad is the one with the car today—he had to run on a coffee errand or something, Stephen tells me. I don’t want to take a cab; I have no money to pay for it. Stephen offers, but I turn to him with such a glare he backs down. “If looks could kill,” he says, laughing nervously.
We discuss other options. Horse and buggy ride? I decline. We have to pay for that too. Bikes? Stephen reminds me that it’s snowing. The ideas start getting ridiculous. Fly? We don’t have wings. Steal a car? Bad idea in general. It hurts me, but our final decision is to wait for Stephen’s dad to come back.
I twirl the bent straw between my fingers, it bends more. I want to reach across and grab Stephen’s phone to call his dad again, but it’s been only five minutes since the last call. He still has about an hour until he comes. To distract myself, I try and focus on breaking the plastic straw. I twist it tighter and tighter, watching the middle get thinner and thinner, like a corset being pulled around a woman’s waist. I feel like I have a corset on. I can’t breathe. I need to know, I need to know. What’s hidden at my school, in the band room?
The more I continue to turn the straw around, knotting it, the more I feel like I can’t breathe. It’s like I’m the straw. I stop and throw the straw away so I don’t snap it’s middle.
Stephen’s phone rings, and I jump up. But Stephen’s already got it in his hands and answering it. “Hey, dad,” he says.
I watch with a banging heart.
“Yeah, sure, I will. Alright, thanks.” Stephen hits the off button and looks at me. I look back at him hopefully. He shakes his head. “Nope. I’m just supposed to lock up the café. He’ll be home late. We have to wait until tomorrow. Sorry kid,” Stephen reaches over to pet my head. I toss his hand to the side before he can.
“Well,” Stephen looks to the clock on the wall. It’s almost seven. “The two people left have until seven to go home.”
I look around. “We’re the only two people left.”
Stephen nods.
“And you’re already home,” I point out. Stephen’s house is above the café.
“You aren’t.”
“Nice, Stephen. Okay, I get it. I’m leaving.” I stand up from my chair.
Stephen catches my hand. “I’m giving you a ride,” he says.
“We’ve been through this before, Stephen,” I sigh. I’m not really in the mood to argue with him.
“Yeah, I know. But this time, it’s dark. And snowing, to top it off.” I don’t believe him. That’s a lot of snow for two days. But he points and I turn to look out the large café windows. Beyond the glass and the flip open sign, I see little flurries dancing in the orange glow of the street lamp outside.
I try and cover a shiver, which only proves Stephen’s point. But he sees it anyways.
“We’re right next to the windows!” I argue. He smiles. I get up and start to walk to the door. But Stephen’s faster than I am. He blocks the door.
“Not now, Stephen,” I grouch.
“Alright. I won’t drive you home. But you have to choose. Stay here or I call a cab.”
I exhale slowly. “Call a cab then.”
Stephen smiles and leaves to find a taxi.
But I leave before he’s even dialed the number.
“Laurence!” Stephen calls. I hear the bell on the café door ring, signaling someone opening it. I start running. There’s footsteps behind me and then they speed up too.
He’s chasing me again. But the snow is thick and it’s hard to see. I can lose him. I get to a crosswalk, slow down, jog across the street. He still follows.
I start running again. I’m five blocks from my house. And as I look ahead at the next crosswalk, I know I’m not going to make it. So I run faster and faster, and then swerve suddenly. But my shoes don’t have enough traction and I’m sliding, I’m sliding, right into a lamp post. He’s still following me. I get up as fast as I can and then I’m running again. But the snow is making me dizzy, it’s swirling around me. I’m confused, I’m confused, and then I’m sliding again. I’m sliding again and then I’m falling, falling, and I crash to the sidewalk.
“Laurie!”
The snow feels so nice now. I’d rather fall on it than concrete or asphalt. I lift my head slowly. “Hi Stephen,” I say.
“Nice one,” he says, picking me out of the snow. “Now will you let me drive you home?”
“Fine,” I sigh. I reach into my pocket and shove a bead into his fingers. He groans back at me. “Your choice. I can walk from here. Or I can keep on owing you.”
“God, Laurence, why do you make it so hard for me to do favors for you?”
“You’ve done too much already.”
“Whatever. I’ll take the bead. You’re getting driven home.”