Side project...

The first chapter of another book.  Completely different audience, no idea where it goes.  Enjoy.



He was back. That boy. She could see him so clearly now. Away from here, his features faded to a watery benevolence that made his image ghostly. Yet, he was back, in this place. She felt a warm smile spread across her face as she followed him through the trees. A storm was brewing to the west and the air began dancing. The breeze shifted as they came out of the forest and the trees gave way to a field.

Her legs began pumping as he began running in earnest. She’d catch him this time and study his face until she could recall it whenever she pleased. Her breathing became labored, and her legs began to burn, but she was gaining on him. She laughed as he slowed down. Triumph. He stopped and stood facing away from her.

With a triumphant whoop she leapt to knock him to the ground. She sailed right through him and fell flat onto her bed.

Emma awoke to a face full of pillow and the obnoxious beating of her alarm. She hated that sound. It had stolen more happy endings then reality ever could. From the day she was born, reality had disappointed her. Her dreams were far more entertaining than reality. The blinking digital numbers laughed at her as she reached over to shut off the alarm. Another boring day in boring ole’ reality was about to take flight.

Emma threw on second day jeans and a t-shirt. Morning sucked. Downstairs everything was proceeding as normal. No breakfast sat on the table as her mother had long ago given up any hope of cooking an actual meal. Granola bar again. It always seems to happen that mothers give up cherished pastimes like feeding their eldest when they have more children, particularly the five children living in Emma’s house. Emma entered the downstairs study to gather her school gear.

A loud thud caught her ear, followed by the down-the-stairs-stampeding of her younger brothers. Well, crap. No time for coffee before the mini-rugbee team attacked. She quickly retrieved her bag, flung it over her shoulder, and bolted for the door. “Bye Mom!” she called as she threw open the door and disappeared from her house.

Sighing heavily, Emma breathed in the morning air. It tasted slightly lighter today. Perhaps the ridiculous humidity was finally lifting itself away. She couldn’t help but smile at the thought of being able to breathe right again. No one should have to cope with this weather. She was getting out of Tulsa. Oklahoma had no excitement to offer anyway.

It was quiet, but that was to be expected on a Monday. Not even the birds were anxious to begin the week. Three houses down from Emma’s stood an all white Southern style home, covered in bright manicured flowers and grotesquely popular shiny orbs on stands.

A muted “Charles, are you sure you don’t need a ride today?” resounded through the plantation shutters. “You can’t honestly like riding the bus with all those apartment kids.”

“Mom, leave it alone.”

Smiling fully now, Emma strolled up to the house. As she opened the door she was rudely pushed right back outside by a sixteen year old boy a good foot taller than her. C.T. followed her outside and slammed the door. “Good morning Mrs. Clarke!” Emma called over her shoulder.

“What’s the matter with you? Do you want to die?” he asked in a hushed voice.

“Oh, come on now CT! Your mother loves me!” Emma stated, trying once again for the door.

“Your sarcasm is not appreciated.” He grabbed her arm and pulled her down the walkway.

“At least our discussions are interesting. Your mother has absolutely absurd ideas about tradition and old world values! I can just say the word LESBIAN and you can tell she’s having a minor stroke. We could all use a little excitement around here, you know.”

CT smirked, releasing her arm as they reached the street. Just as they began their trek to the bus stop, the red door across the street flew open and Amanda Thornton ran out to greet them. Her blonde curls bounced as she ran. It then occurred to Emma that she hadn’t even dragged a brush through her hair.

“Hey CT!” she flung her golden hair over to one side.

“Hi, um, Emma and I are going to be late for the bus so…”

It amazed Emma how someone could contort their face to look something like a shriveled pumpkin and the next moment, fling their hair and smile without smudging their makeup. “Look, CT,” her weight shifted and she tilted her head slightly, absent-mindedly twisting a lock of her bleached blonde hair. “I’m thinking about playing hooky today. Want to join me?”

Emma would have continued on to the bus stop if it didn’t humor her to watch CT struggle under pressure. CT shifted uneasily. Amanda had been out to get him for three solid months, and tragically for the poor popularity queen, he couldn’t stand her.

“No thanks. I, um, have stuff to um, just…not today,” Amanda shot a jealous glare in Emma’s direction before flipping her hair lightly and resituating her backpack.

“Some other time then.” She smiled and turned on her heel. Amanda made sure to walk with a completely exaggerated amount of confidence and sway her butt back and forth as she strutted two doors down and knocked on Tom Harrison’s door. Tom was the head of the football team and drove a trendy little hybrid car, as if he gave a crap about the environment.

Amanda had moved on to the jealousy tactic she often used when she was rejected and planned to bum a ride from the high school super star. As soon as Amanda was out of ear shot, Emma burst a giggle out at CT.

“Can it, Emma.”

“You know, you ought to go out with her, and then dump her. Then she’d write you love poems and throw rocks at your window, and maybe even dance naked on your lawn to win you back.”

“Shut up.” CT watched Amanda climb into Tom’s car as the two of them headed off down the street. “I wish I knew what her problem was. Why doesn’t she just bother the four hundred guys at school that want her attention?”

“Oh come on CT, you’re intelligent, ambitious, cultured, sensitive and, dare I say, stunningly attractive.” CT looked up with a start. Suddenly the air was a bit too awkward. Emma whacked him upside the head. “Oh don’t be dumb, you know I don’t mean a word of it.”

“Hey!” He laughed, rubbing his head and attempting to look hurt.

Emma swung her arm around his shoulder. “Don’t worry ole’ chap, some girl out there won’t mind if you’re a dumb, lazy, barbaric, insensitive old fool.” She winked at him as they walked the rest of the way to the bus stop. At the big yellow sign with a horrendous depiction of a yellow twinkie, they both turned left and kept on walking. Emma and CT were dodging the bus today. No need for parents or psycho stalkers to know that.

At the corner of 47th and Willow, Jen and Wade were waiting for them. Jen stood about the same height as CT and Wade was the shortest of the entire group. People often joked that Jon Wade was the perfect image of a stereotypical leprechaun. Standing at 4’10” with bright red hair they weren’t stretching far. His scruffy face didn’t help his image either. Wade refused to shave because he didn’t have a full face of fuzz, so his chin was covered in sporadic little red hairs that stuck straight out at least a quarter of an inch.

But it wouldn’t be fair to say that Wade was the only odd one of the bunch. Jen, well she looked like an alien. She was tall and gangly, making her head look a tad too big for her body. She always wore her blonde hair back in a tight bun making her forehead look expansive and her eyes bulge slightly.

Emma was the only normal looking one in the group. But it was by no means a good thing. Everything about her was average. She had brownish blonde hair, light brown eyes, stood at an average height, and average weight, and had average features. Nothing really stood out on Emma. CT often told Emma if she committed a crime, they’d never be able to describe her to the police, so she’d get away with it easy.

“Top o’ the morning to you, Wade!” CT called out.

“Come on CT, we have the whole day ahead of us, let’s not be all stuck up and snobby right away,” Jen stated indignantly lifting her chin slightly and narrowing her eyes. Jen’s facial expressions never seemed to really match her emotions.

CT pretended not to hear her and kept talking, “So what’s the plan Wade? We doin’ the usual?”

“Yeah. I toyed with trying to convince the girls of a different destination, but I know better.”

Emma took off her side bag and stuffed it into the back of Wade’s little two door piece of crap car. “So, are we heading to eat or what?” she asked over her shoulder.

“Yep. Waffle House!” Jen shouted leaving her mouth open wide, sounding enthusiastic, but looking like she had dilated to seven centimeters and was about to give birth.

Wade looked up at CT, “You sure we couldn’t talk them into going to get jalapeno breakfast burritos or something?”

“Those places only make eggs out of Styrofoam! I’d prefer to eat real eggs thanks,” Jen stated looking a little in love. Emma laughed as she folded herself into the back seat. Jen could always express love for food.

Wade signed, “Don’t tell me you’ve started up a conspiracy theory! Styrofoam eggs? Can’t you take up something normal to freak out about?”

“Like what? Burying my pot o’ gold?” Emma retorted with a thick Irish accent.

“I had a dream last night!” Jen interjected, changing the subject quickly. “It was that one where you’re being chased by something and you keep running down a long hall and opening doors that lead to more halls.”

“I hate that dream,” CT stated, now holding the seat back so Angela could climb in next to Emma.

“I keep having recurring dreams about digging in a gigantic bowl of ice cream. Is that weird?” Wade turned to Emma who shrugged.

“I keep having dreams about this girl,” CT added.

“AMANDA!” All three shouted.

“No, it’s not Amanda. I don’t know who it is. I can never remember her face.” Emma glanced at CT’s face through the rear-view mirror.

Jen sighed, “I hear people dream like that after they eat too much.”

Emma tried to remember what she ate the night before. Pizza. Too much of it. Maybe that boy was just undigested food. Maybe she’d have to start eating too much pizza on a more regular basis.