White as Snow

Chapter 2

Chapter 2 - Part 1

I stand, mouth slack, numb with fear. Who is this man, I wonder to myself, my mind dulled from the haze of fear clouding the world.

A hand grabs my shoulder, long nails set in an iron grip pulling my shirt.

I yell loudly, having nearly jumped over the cold railing next to me. I spin, knocking the arm off of me in an attempt to escape.

A smack to the back of the head jars me to my senses.

"Damion!" my mother shouts, "what has gotten into you?!"

She stands, arms akimbo, not exactly glaring per se, but not exactly just looking at me either. She's ticked, and for good reason.

A flush of embarassment creeps into my face, and I can feel my cheeks and ears heat up. "I'm...I...well...uh..." I manage too stutter out. "I'm sorry Mom...you...ya just startled me...that's all."

"Really Damion. I just...I just don't know what we're going to have to do. You aren't the happy guy you used to be. For the last week and a half you jump at every little noise, you're paranoid, or if you aren't paranoid it seems to me that you are. Joley notices too. He's worried about you, Dami."

I flushed hotter. "Mom...you know I hate it when you call me Dami...and I'm sorry for being so uptight. I've...just been stressing over some stuff at school. Don't worry about it!" I grinned broadly.

She ruffled the hair under my black ball cap a little and smiled too. "All right. Just remember, if you ever, and I mean it, EVER, need anything, you know you can come to me. Kay?"

"All right Mom. And thanks." We walked back to the van, and I felt better than I had for a while. Things never seemed so bad with Mom around. When we got past the police and reached the van I put the shovel and the hammer in the back, and closed the trunk door with a squeeky slam. We began the dusty road back to our house, listening to my favorite band AC-DC on the radio.

As we pulled out, tires spitting gravel and dust, a sound lightly tickled my ear...too soft to really be heard. I looked behind me and saw Joley smiling, so I figured it was him chuckling. At any rate, the "Highway to Hell" drowned out the sound.

***

The next two weeks passed in a blur of studying, school, and homework, and I'm pleased to say, no strange ANYTHING. In fact, after the first week, I pretty much put the odd occurrences out of my mind.

Halloween was coming up within a week or two, and I was looking forward to it. Of course I was too old to go trick-or-treating, but that wouldn't stop me from doing a little tricking.

Chapter 2 - Part 2

"Today we're going to be starting Unit 3, which deals primarily with square roots." Mr. Moraney said, stone-faced as usual. The stony countenace changed to a grin upon hearing the collective groans and sighs from the class. Using his index finger to push his grey wire-rimmed glasses back up the bridge of his rather hooked nose.

I grabbed a sheet of college-rule notebook paper, grabbed my mechanical pencil, and, tapping it on my chin, clicked some lead out.

"Please turn to page 145 in your textbooks." he droned, grabbing a marker for the dry-erase whiteboard.

As I grabbed my Algebra 1 textbook from off of the floor, I heard a whisper behind me. "Damion...hey...Damion." it said.

I turned, and saw my good friend Matthew Reynolds throw me a little wadded up piece of paper. I'd known him since he moved to the town some ten years ago, when I was about four or five. He was a funny guy, and always had something witty to say about everything. His blue eyes and brown hair always had girls going for him, and I kinda envied him for that, but he was always good-natured about my woeful lack of tact, skill, coolness or anything else regarding girls.

I carefully and nonchalantly unwadded the paper, while keeping my eyes on Mr. Moraney teaching something about radical roots or something. I'd get the notes later.

The note said this: Hey man, u wanna come tpin with us tonight? Were hitting Jasons house, and probably someone elses to

Visualizing us all dressed in black, with ski masks and hundreds of rolls of toilet paper for our unsuspecting victim Jason (who happened to be an even bigger loser than I was), I grinned in wicked mirth. I grabbed a bit of paper, wrote 'Sure man ill go!' wadded it up, and threw it.

Right as Mr. Moraney turned around.

Boy, I have writer's block bad...Give me a while.