Chapter 2 – Part 6

At 6:20 I went outside to the bus stop, even though I wouldn’t be going to school today. As I expected, Angela came bounding out of her house within seconds of my arrival. She gave me a big smile and sat right next to me, even though there was plenty of room on the bench. She smiled again, and I gave a halfhearted one back.

Chapter 2 – Part 5

I was lying in my bed in the ransacked room. The previous night I had done my best to clean most of the mess, but it was still obvious that something had happened. Nothing had been stolen though, I had determined.

Chapter 2 – Part 4

My dreams generally consist of nothing more than boring events such as drinking tea, or driving to no particular destination. I have never once had an exciting dream, the kinds that I hear about from friends. One reason why I may not have particularly vibrant dreams is because I sleep for such a short time every night. My theory is that people have a dream that lasts for several minutes, and then there is a large empty space before the mind returns to another dream. Therefore I only have one or two dreams each night, and the chance of remembering them is slim.

Chapter 2 – Part 3

I moved from room to room, searching like a police officer in a suspect’s apartment. I left no door unopened, no room unsearched. I determined that nobody was in the downstairs rooms. That only left upstairs and the basement. I decided to go upstairs.

Chapter 2 – Part 2

To my surprise, my mother didn’t look shocked or angry. “Why?” she simply asked.
“It was late, I was having trouble with the assignment, and the rest is history.”
My mother started the car and drove out of the traffic circle. She didn’t speak again until we were halfway to our house. “Dempster, obviously I am very disappointed in you. But you’re almost a grown man, and you need to begin to accept consequences on your own. That is why we will not speak of it for the rest of the week. Your father will agree with me.”

Chapter 2 – Part 1

The walk to the principal’s office was a long one. Literally. It wasn’t that I was scared, nervous, concerned, or contrite about my actions and their consequences; it is a good quarter mile of walking to get across the campus to the administrative building. As we went, I looked over at Noah. He seemed nervous; he was staring at the ground and kept on running his hand through his hair. That was a telltale sign that he was nervous.