NEED BOOK TITLE: Chapter 1 - Stress and Puppy Love [Part #1]

The only thing I can hear is Charlie the beagle’s paws on the damp forest floor and my own feet crunching sticks as I walk. Through the thick tree trunks Stougher’s Lake shines icily in the dusk, dim light. My breath fogs out in front of me, a cold little cloud in the February air. I turn up the collar of my jacket on my freezing neck.

Some, if not most people would think that this scene is real peaceful. And that’s usually why I come out here. But tonight it’s partly out of fear and partly to calm myself down at the news hovering in the back of my head: my parents are getting a divorce. Any other fifteen year old guy probably wouldn’t be freaking out like this. It was bad enough when they told me and my brothers and sisters without any kind of warning. Now they’re talking about my dad getting another house. I guess I shouldn’t expect them to live together but . . . I don’t want things to change. They probably expect us to ultimately get over it. But I know I never will.

This is why I came out here to calm myself down.

I stopped to shiver as a cold blast of wind hit my face and blew my hair in horrible directions. Charlie whined and looked at me with those puppy eyes. I sighed.

This made me feel like a loser because my dog was the only one to noticed that I felt awful. My three brothers and two sisters are wrapped up among themselves, freaking out on their own time, not caring about me. That’s the first thing that went wrong because the split: we always tell each other everything. Everything. That just shows how this divorce messes up this family. It’s drawing us all apart from each other. I fear it’s only going to get worse. With a sense of uneasiness creeping up on me, I clicked my tongue to Charlie and hurried deeper into the trails to my favorite spot on the bank of the lake. I settled down and looked out across the frozen water.

Charlie licked my hand with his warm, wet tongue. He whined again. I looked at him and almost (I said almost) cracked a smile. He had a stick in his mouth and was wagging his tail. I threw it a little behind me.

“I know you wanna be alone, Tony, but you don’t have to throw sticks at me.”

I jumped at the sound of my older brother Derrick’s voice. I turned around and found him bundled up (by force by mom’s orders, I expect) and looking freezing. He looked at me like I was a puppy that wouldn’t stop following him. I looked back at the lake.

“Mom wants you home for dinner.” He said roughly, walking up next to me. “What are you looking at? It’s a frozen lake, it’s not doing anything.”

Derrick wouldn’t know peacefulness and beauty if it slapped him square in the face. I sighed heavily got up and clicked my tongue again, which led Charlie to my side.

We walked back in silence.

When I got in the house there was some commotion going on in the kitchen. I could hear my mother scolding one of my siblings as I hung up my jacket. I try to be quiet so she wouldn’t notice me as I slink into the kitchen.

“I told you repeatedly, singing is not a good career. It’s hard to get into that business, Beth you don’t even know.”

My older sister, Beth, she’s eighteen and going off to college soon. She’s an amazing singer and wants to have a career in it. Mom hates the idea and wants her to do something practical. I think it’s cool that Beth wants to sing and she is really good. My mother just doesn’t see that apparently. I would have stood up for her, as she always did for me, but that awful feeling was still living in my chest and made it impossible.

“But I could pay for it myself and what if I do make it mom-” Beth tried. I’d heard this three million times and knew how it was going to end.

“It’s a good hobby.”

I slid with my head down past a discouraged Beth and got Charlie’s dog kibble out of the cabinet. When I walked by Beth again, she grabbed my arm and gave me a warning look. She glanced at my mother, who had her back to us and was moodily stirring soup.

“Watch it: she’s mad at you for staying out there so long by yourself.” She said under her breath.

Before I could get the heck out of there, mom turned around and set her eyes on me.

“And you.” She pointed the knife at me and then started chopping celery with more force than necessary. “Anthony James Evans Junior how many times have I told you not to be out on those trails alone?” she ranted angrily. “You’ve had me worried sick and you look freezing-”

“I had Charlie.” I said in defense.

Beth giggled. “Charlie wouldn’t protect you from a bear, he’d just bark at it and apologize for disturbing the piece.”

I gave her a look. “Thanks for helping.”

“No prob, Anthony.” She was just teasing me, but I wasn’t in the mood. I dumped Charlie’s food in the bowl and sunk into the couch in the living room. The TV was on, but the sound was on mute. Looked like House. Marci was drawing in her sketchpad. She glanced at me and smirked. I was glad I found Marci because I knew she would make me feel better. On the other end of the couch, my genius brothers, Greg and Matthew were deep into a game of chess.

“You look cold.” Marci said.

“I am. What ‘cha drawing?” I tried to look over her shoulder, but she turned the sketchpad away from me.

“You. Now hold still.”

Me and Marci are twins. She’s my best friend. I don’t know what it is, but she always gets me to laugh or at least crack a smile, no matter what mood I’m in, which I think is awesome. She’s an artist and she’s really good, to say the least. She’s really good on detail. (She always manages to get all of my freckles without making it look like I have chicken pox) Her paintings breathe. For some reason she always insists on drawing the family, but there’s no point because we all kinda look alike.

She bit her lip and looked at me as if I were one of her paintings. She moved a piece of my hair out of my eyes. Then she moved it back.. I caught her wrist. She smiled.

“Your drawing’s gonna stink ‘cause I feel horrible.” I said, my eye eyebrows raised. I released her.

“Besides, I don’t have enough pink paint to get how red your cheeks are. What’s the matter anyway?”

“I don’t know . . .” I toyed with a loose string in the couch. “The whole-”

“CHECK MATE! HA!”

We looked over at Greg standing up and fist pounding the air.

“Oh congrats, Greg, you’ve used about, oh, I don’t know, 10 percent of your brain moving Matt’s pieces when he went the bathroom.” Marci said, smiling.

Greg sat down and scowled.

“I knew it!” Matt angrily.

I smirked and pushed my bangs out of my eyes.

“Put the smirk away, freckles, this is serious business.” Greg said to me. I smiled a little wider.

“Tanning through a screen door again, Tony?” Matt said, cracking up. I laughed for the first time in weeks.

Marci slapped her sketch book down on the couch. She tried to look mad, but she was also trying not to laugh at the same time.

“They get you to laugh but not me?!”

I blushed from the attention and smiled even wider.

“Marci we should be encouraging this . . . the shy troubled teenager in his natural habitat.” Derrick said roughly, coming into the room and ruffling my hair before sinking into his favorite arm chair and unmuting House.

The smile slid off my face and turned into a scowl.

Marci, Matt, and Greg exchanged eye rolling. I blushed again and looked down. I hated Derrick at the moment because he knew how I felt and he still chose to trash me. I felt like saying something back and I almost did, but Marci nudged me hard under my ribs when I opened my mouth.

“What’s the use? He’s still gonna bag on you.” She whispered in my ear. I sighed.

“Dinner!” my mother yelled from the kitchen. We all got up and sat before soup and biscuits and chicken.

My father was at one end of the table and my mother at the other. A shiver went up my back when I realized this. They’ve been sitting next to each other ever since I could remember. I caught my dad’s eye. He looked like he always did: silent and slightly agitated. He nodded to me. I looked away.

After grace was said, everyone went into their usual conversations:

Greg and Matthew were talking about building something and quantum physics. I hoped it wasn’t anything that would blow up; this world only needed one Homer Higgins.

Beth was once again resuming the plea of college with my mother who was putting way too much pepper in her soup while she was listening.

Marci was drawing and eating at the same time, and I almost grinned when I saw that it was my profile. I swear her mashed potatoes could’ve exploded and she wouldn’t’ve noticed.

That left me and my dad to converse. On his plate next to me I noticed that he’d left his soup and cut his chicken in straight lines, the same as me. He noticed me glancing at him.

“Don’t worry about Derrick.” He said. “He’s just teasing you.”

“Uh-huh.” I said sarcastically.

“You want me to talk to him for you?” he said cautiously.

“Naw its alright.”

He kind of looked at me and looked back at his plate. “Where were you all day?”

I gripped my fork and shifted in my seat. “Uh . . . outside with . . . with Charlie.”

“Listen to your mother . . . don’t go out there alone.”

I nodded and pushed my bags out of my eyes.

“You’re getting a haircut next week, too.”

I dropped my fork. My hair was just how I wanted it. Not too long, but just enough so it just hung in my eyes and curled around my ears.

“Can’t we wait two weeks and get it trimmed then?” I whined.

“Tony-” he said dangerously.

“Yes sir.” I muttered miserably.

“What’s this about Tony getting his haircut?” my mother said. The whole table went quiet. My father didn’t look at her, but looked at something over her shoulder.

“He needs it cut he can’t even see.” He said firmly.

“I think we can wait and then get it trimmed if it gets too long.” She said, looking right at him. I’d have rather been bald then. I looked down at my plate. Marci looked up from her drawing for the first time, looking confused.

“He’ll still look terrible no matter when you cut it.” Derrick muttered across the table. My head shot up. I glared at him, feeling my face turn slightly red.

“At least I have the IQ higher than a squirrel’s.” I said under my breath.

“Pardon, Tony I didn’t seem to have heard you?” he asked smugly.

“I told you to shut the he-” I stopped mid-word when I caught a look at my mother.

“Boys, please.”

We went quiet again.

I felt a headache coming on. I rubbed my forehead and unbuttoned the first button on my shirt, feeling hot and sticky.

“Just for that, you two do the dishes.” My mother said. That means me and Derrick yell at each other some more and I end up doing them all myself.