Okay, so this is a prologue. The idea came to my mind so I wrote it down. Read and review please.
Two years ago...
His dad never congratulated him after he won the four hundred meter race at the state track meet. As he crossed the finish line he smiled with pride and then looked towards the stands to find his dad. He only saw many people in matching blue shirts, like his, jumping up and down excitedly. They were screaming his name. Other teams were scowling. Our track team was the best, we knew that and now they did too. "Shane," he heard his dad call.
He turned around slowly as his teammates slapped him on the back and said things like, "Good job," and "Holy shit, you're like the fastest seventh grader ever!"
He smiled slightly at the praise and stared at his dad. The expression on his face was filled with worry as he gestured for Shane to approach him.
Shane grabbed the water bottle someone was handing him and walked slowly to where his dad was standing by the fence. "We have to go," he said slowly.
"Why?" Shane asked out of breath. He took a sip of the water.
"Just get your stuff, I'll explain in the car," he walked away towards the waiting van. Shane retreated towards the bleachers. As he did so he heard a message over the loudspeaker. "Shane Mitchell has set the state record for the four hundred meter run." His team erupted and he smiled to himself.
"That was so freaking amazing," his best friend Nathan gasped. "You were like...I don't know a good word, but you were fast!"
Shane nodded, barely paying attention as Nathan went through a play by play of the whole race. He slipped on his sweat pants and sweatshirt before continuing down the bleachers quickly. "Shane, wait!" the track coach called.
"My dad said I have to go," Shane mumbled. He didn't want to leave, he enjoyed this attention too much.
"Oh, well, don't you want to wait for the awards ceremony?" she asked. "It should be really exciting considering you are the fastest four hundred meter runner in the state. Middle school division," she smiled widely.
"Um, I think it's important," Shane sighed. He looked towards his van and saw his dad waiting impatiently, running his fingers through his tousled, brown hair. He bit his lip, "Sorry, I have to go."
Without even waiting for her reply he ran down the bleachers.
The air was chilly and he wiped his running nose on the cuff of his sleeve. He opened the car door and sat down next to his dad in the passenger seat. The car was perfectly clean, that was how his mom liked it. "What's going on?" he asked when his dad started pulling out of the parking lot.
"Your mom has taken a turn for the worse," he replied. Shane felt a knot form in his stomach. His mom had breast cancer and had been in the hospital for a few days. He heard a sniffle from the back seat and turned around to face his little sister.
Her bright blue eyes were filled with tears and her blonde hair was pulled into two messy pigtails. He smiled sympathetically at her and turned to face forward. "So we're going to the hospital?" he asked and brushed his sweaty, sandy brown bangs away from his eyes.
"Yes," his dad replied sadly and swerved through the traffic. Shane stared out the window at the passing trees. His mom had called to wish him luck before the meet, he couldn't wait to tell her he won. She would be so happy.
He tried not to be nervous about his mother's sickness. Life was too short to worry about everything.
The hospital was not busy but it still scared him to death. Sick people scared him, a lot of things scared him. Things like, the dark, his Uncle Mike, heights, spiders, dead people, scary movies, and drunk people.
"You two wait here. Shane, watch your sister," he pointed to the waiting area. Shane grabbed Dallas's hand and led her to one of the teal couches. The atmosphere was awkward, you could tell the few people sitting in the waiting room were very anxious and wanted to find out what was wrong with them, or someone they knew. To him, there was something about hospitals that was uncomfortable and quiet. He picked up an outdated magazine and flipped through it, trying to ignore the annoying antiseptic smell.
Dallas stared at the clock with tears in her eyes. "Shane?" she asked suddenly. He put down the magazine and looked at her intently. "Is mom going to die?"
Shane drew in a deep breath, thinking of the best way to explain to her what cancer was and what it could do to people. She was only nine. Her eyes looked worried and the last thing he wanted to do was upset her. "I couldn't tell you that," he sighed.
She turned back to the clock. He wanted to find something to busy her; something to take her mind off things. He stood up and walked over to a basket that contained books and magazines. There was a picture book sitting on top. He grabbed it and handed it to her.
"Read this," he explained. "It will take your mind off things." They sat for awhile while she flipped through the pages of the book. People looked at them, wondering why two kids under the age of thirteen were sitting alone in a hospital waiting room. They were probably wondering if one of them was sick. If they thought that then they were probably thinking something like, Poor kid.
Shane was starting to get impatient and squirmed in the seat. Suddenly his dad emerged from a room down the hall. Shane swallowed hard when he noticed the tears in his eyes. He knew what was coming, and he definitely wasn't ready.
Dallas looked up at her father as he approached them. His voice broke as he spoke, "Your mom is dead." He said it bluntly and that surprised Shane. He thought maybe he could explain it more, for Dallas's sake.
Dallas burst into tears but Shane just stared at his dad. He stood up slowly and walked down the hallway. His dad watched him go, questioning why he didn't cry like Dallas did.
He waited by the elevators and waited for one to open. A woman carrying a child smiled at him as he walked into the elevator as she walked out. He just glared.
He pressed random buttons, not caring which floor he went to. As the doors slid closed he sat down and leaned against the wall. He wasn't going to cry, that was what they wanted. He refused to feel grief because he didn't want to believe she was gone. She couldn't be gone. People probably expected him to breakdown and cry until he couldn't anymore. That wasn't going to happen, he had to tell himself that.
The doors opened and a girl walked in, she too, looked upset. She looked at him and sat down. She had straight red hair and bright, hazel eyes. She smiled at him weakly and he returned it. "You have really cool eyes," she said suddenly. She pulled the hood off her black sweatshirt over her head and pulled her IPod out of her pocket.
"Thanks," he mumbled. He had one bright blue eye and one dark green eye. He hated it but for some reason everyone else loved it.
The door opened and she walked out. He felt like meeting her meant something. That it wasn't just some random meeting. Maybe someday this day would mean something to him, maybe she came into the elevator at that moment for a reason. Like they always said, everything happens for a reason.
Present Day
He didn't cry at his mom's funeral, or at her burial. Not once had he shed a tear about his mom's death. Of course, he cried about other things. Like his dad's slow change from "father of the year," to "world's worst father." Or the fact that he acted like a parent to his sister when his dad went on "business trips." There was plenty to cry about, but that wasn't one of the those things. Life since that day had only went downhill.
