Young Writers Society

Hello all I have reposted this whole chapter as I didn't edit it, more or less I took all feedback into account and deconstructed the original chapter and reconstructed it . Props for the first bit go to Archer for giving me the new start to this chapter :)

Thanks also to Lucrezia who has helped edit this chapter and will hopefully be helping edit many more chapters :)

Chapter One

What would you do if you came home from school to find your parents hurriedly packing everything up, telling you that you were leaving the area immediately? How would you feel if that night you found out that they were members of a secret rogue organization?

Incredulous? Yeah. Me too.

Peter, is that you?

Yes, Mum, it’s me, I want to tell you something . . . I understand that you like my red hair and all but I was getting teased at school for it so . . . well, I dyed it.

I practised those lines in my head as I walked home, as someone may practise lines for a play or memorize the script of a film. I was ready to face the music.

Walking up to the door, I slid my hand into my pocket and felt my fingers touch the smooth metal of the house key. Thank God, I thought, that’s one of my problems out the way.

With this task done I set about the next job of telling my mum.

She came down the stairs with three suitcases just as I stepped inside, and quipped at me, “Here you go, Peter, that’s all your stuff. We’re leaving.”

“Leaving?” I repeated. “Why are we leaving? Dad has the perfect job on the force right here.”

“Yes, I know, but you see . . . your dad . . . he’s been relocated because there’s evidence the Killer Assassin Clan might be located in New York. He’s moving to the NYPD in order to bring them down.”

As she finished speaking I saw her sparkling blue eyes twitch, not much but enough for a strand of blonde hair to move across her face. I knew then that she wasn’t tell me the truth.

“You’re lying, Mum,” I stated. “I saw your eyes twitch, and they only do that when you lie.”

“Nonsense, Peter,” she said. “And what on earth did you do to your hair? We’ll have to get that fixed before you start your new school.”

What new school? I hated my current one, sure, but I wasn’t about to up and leave it without a good reason. Especially not after Mum had promised last time that we wouldn’t move again.

“I’m not leaving. You told me that this was it, that this town was our home. You won’t even tell me why we’re going! No, I’m not moving ever, I like it here and I won’t just let you take me away again.”

“Fine,” my mother retorted, visibly starting to get angry with me, “but we leave tomorrow with or without you. Do you want to be a part of this family? If the answer is yes, then meet me here tomorrow morning at six.”

After she finished yelling at me, I stormed off to my room. Well, what was left of it, anyway. The gymnastic posters were gone along with my pictures. Now all that remained was the ocean blue paint on the walls and my small single bed.

Mum must of already packed up all my things and have them in the suitcase for when we leave tomorrow, I thought.

Yes, that’s right, I did just contradict myself. Truth is, I don’t really care about moving. I mean, I knew it was going to happen again eventually.

The only reason I refused to leave was to buy my dad some time. I love my mother but that display downstairs . . . well, it made me worry she was planning on leaving Dad for some reason and wants to take me away from him too. I wanted him to be a part of our family, even if he was a dick head sometimes.

I refused to have dinner that night and began to pay for it later on; my stomach started grumbling insistently by eight. Luck was on my side, however, as my dad stopped by soon thereafter with some pizza.

“Your mum didn’t want to have to clean any of the dishes before we leave tomorrow,” Dad replied to my unspoken question.

“So you’re coming with us?”

“Yes, of course, mate,” he answered cheerfully.

“But why are we going, Dad? Mum told me you got a new job, but it seemed she was lying because her eyes did that twitching thing.”

“Don’t be so hard on your mum. She was trying to make it easier for you, that’s all. As for why it is we’re leaving . . .” He smiled brightly, showing off his dazzlingly white teeth. “I can’t tell you that. Not until we get there.”

“Then where are we going, Dad? Can you at least tell me that?”

“No. Because that’s a secret even I don’t know.” He followed this up with a wink. “Anyway, you can eat up here. We have a long day tomorrow and you’re going to have to get up even earlier if you want to shave off that stubble you’ve got going, can’t have you looking scruffy for the ladies you might meet.” He chuckled.

You see, that was the thing with my dad. He always went on about my stubble, as he called it, when in reality it was all of about three hairs under my chin. I guess it was his way of telling me I’d inherited something other than his red hair.

“Well, goodnight son,” he said abruptly, ending the conversation since he had nothing else to say to me.

I have always been closer with my mother for a reason. My dad found it rather awkward talking to me as my interests aren’t as masculine as he would have liked them to be---which is why our last conversation wasn’t longer.

“Goodnight, Dad,” I replied, also having nothing else to add.

I think back now and quite frankly I am happy that I had a better relationship with my mum than my dad because if I was closer to him, what happened next would have hurt me a whole lot more.