Young Writers Society

chapter 3 – Wednesday September 2nd 7:12 A.M.

“Amy,” Lara’s hand patted her cheek. “Amy, honey it’s time to get up. School starts today.”

Amy dug herself out from under her covers, the morning’s light greeting her with the same blank black stare. She winced as her elbow knocked into the headboard. At her muffled groan, Lara breathed a sigh of relief.

“Oh, thank goodness you’re awake.” She said. “You hit your head flailing around like you did. I couldn’t hold you down!”

Amy started to talk, but her tongue caught sharply on her lip and she tasted blood. “I tink I cut my tung.” She mumbled over the raw feeling.

“I can get you some Tylenol if you want.” Lara offered, but Amy shook her head. Tylenol always made her drowsy and she needed to be alert today. “Have it your way, then. There’s some stuff out for oatmeal on the counter. It’s to the left of the microwave. Jasper is outside eating his breakfast.”

Lara rustled off and Amy crawled out from under her covers hurriedly making her bed. As much as she dreaded the first day of school, the last thing she wanted was to be late.

She made her way to her dresser, feeling for the chair set next to it. The night before she had set out her clothes and now she slipped them on. She had picked out a casual outfit, hoping to fit in a little better. A soft, long sleeved peasant blouse slipped over her head easily, it’s minty green softness feeling light and airy. With Lara’s help she had also chosen a pair of dark jeans and her Converse high-tops.

Lara had also made mention about her being the epitome of fashion, but that wasn’t exactly what Amy had been worried about.

Amy felt to make sure her earrings were in place and then reached for a hairband. After pulling her hair back into a ponytail she ran a finger between her bangs and her forehead fluffing them up a bit so that they wouldn’t catch on her scars.

Feeling her way through the hall, Amy padded into the kitchen. The rustling of the paper and the sharp odor of charred toast testified to Paul’s presence.

“Good morning, Paul.” Amy said. He grunted and she took that to mean hello.

She reached the counter to the right of the sink and reached up to touch the cabinets, her finger feathering over the handle as she counted two over, opening the third to pull out a bowl. Oatmeal was fairly easy to make and in less than three minutes she had a steamy bowl. Plopping it down on the table, Amy had a seat, spreading a napkin over her lap.

“What’s in the paper this morning?”

The paper rustled in the stark silence. Then Paul growled “You can read it when I’m finished.”

Amy brushed off the remark. “That’s OK,” she said. “It makes me sick to read while I eat anyway.”

“It makes me sick to hear your voice while I’m reading, so shut up.”

The oatmeal turned to sand in Amy’s mouth and she forced herself to swallow it, suddenly not very hungry. Suddenly a cold, leathery nose brushed her hand as if Jasper sensed her discomfort. Amy gave him a scratch behind his ears and fed him a sliver of apple from her breakfast.

“Don’t feed that dog from the table.” Paul barked out. Amy jumped. In her dark world, Paul’s voice always crept up sharply and unexpected like. Kind of like an alarm’s shrill command in the early morning as it jerks you from your sleep. Jasper sensed it too, for his ears laid back for a moment.

“Don’t even think for a minute that that dog can protect you if someone comes after you. He’s nothing but a half-breed mutt that -,”

Amy felt the low growl rumble from deep within Jasper’s throat as the golden retriever lowered his head and glared at Paul resenting every word he said.

“Jasper won’t need to protect me.” Amy said, her head held high. ”No one will ever come after me again.”

Paul snorted. “Contrary to popular belief you aren’t dead. Your family’s killer is going to figure that out sooner or later.”

Lara entered the room at a brisk walk, laying a hand on Amy’s shoulder. “Honey, it’s time to go. You can finish your oatmeal in the car.”

“No thanks it’s cold anyway.” Amy got up and Lara handed her the book bag.

“You shouldn’t be so wasteful.” Paul noted in a clipped tone.

“Dress.” Amy waited as Jasper sat, extending his neck forward to receive the harness. “Good boy.” She snapped the harness into place and plopped the half-full bowl of oatmeal onto the laminate flooring. “Eat.”

Jasper went to it, snorfing and snuffing it down and in barely more than a few seconds it seemed like, Amy could hear the empty bowl being pushed around on the floor. “Heel.” And then she walked away.

But then, even out in the car, Amy could still feel Paul’s disdain burning through her like a fuse on a stick of dynamite, threatening to blow at any given moment.

~

Wednesday September 2nd 7:46 A.M.

“Hey Damien! Who’d you get the bikes from? The munchkins in the Wizard of Oz?”

Blake shot daggers at his brother who was yelling at the jocks coasting up to the school on bikes that had obviously been made for people half their size. Sporting graffiti style paint and stripped of their handle bars, jimmy wondered if they weren’t something the gang had picked up from the local dump.

“Well, now.” Damien dropped his bike in the grass and approached Ben standoffishly. “The poor little Scarecrow still hasn’t been to get his brains. Whatsa matter? Too stupid to know which road to follow? Remember it’s yellow and made of bricks.”

A black SUV pulled up to the curb and idled as Ben got a wicked grin on his face. “You may be a monkey Damien, but I don’t think that even a pair of sparkly red shoes could get those 250 pounds up in the air.”

“Why you little-,” Damien’s pal Mickey stopped him and pointed at the SUV that Amy Landers had just stepped from. Everyone then turned to stare as she led a dog out after her. She paused for a moment, saying something to the person inside before closing the door. Amy then walked towards the school doors her golden retriever not more than a step ahead of her.

“She’s blind.” Blake whispered.

Apparently, though, Damien was too. “Hey Little Miss Hot Stuff.” He called, and Jimmy winced. “Who do you think you are marching your dog in there. There’s a little sign on the door that says ‘no pets’. Whatsa matter you blind or something?”

Priscilla, Mickey’s sister snickered, but it tapered off as Amy paused in her stride, the dog halting immediately. She tipped her head in Damien’s direction, yet wasn’t looking directly at him. “Actually, I am.”

The bus at the middle school across the street squealed to a stop, and a car honked its horn somewhere downtown, as the teenagers at the high school were silent. Amy turned, her head held high, and walked bravely into the school.

Jimmy had never seen Damien at such a loss for words. ~

Wednesday September 2nd 7:52 A.M.

The Shadow lowered his binoculars as she entered the school. Amelia Landers was trying to close the book on him. Trying to pretend he wasn’t there anymore. Trying to forget what he meant to her and how she belonged to him.

He could see it in those eyes. Those vacant but tell-all eyes. She was putting up a wall. One that if he let be completed, he wouldn’t ever be able to destroy.

And that kind of behavior was definitely not acceptable from one of his girls.

She needed to be taught a lesson. After all, she was on borrowed time. And he could tip the hourglass anytime he wished.