*Un-named.*

Running with a Trouble Maker

It takes me a few minutes to realize that dad isn't leaving for work too. I quickly bound the rest of the way down the stairs, camera securely in my hands.

"What was that all about? " My expression could be the definition of concern, because I'd rarely ever seen mom and dad fight.

Dad is now sulking, sitting in the rocking chair with Don in his lap. Don is a black, and white border collie. He's old, as old as me. Thirteen years to be exact. He has one blind eye, and a slight limp in his right leg. Dad's head is in his left hand, using it as a cushion for his pouts.

"It's just a work thing, your lunch is on the counter." He mumbles this in a depressed low tone, talking into his hand, and I almost don't hear him. He usually calls it the marshmallow counter. Stupid, I know, but the marshmallow counter is an inside joke. I used to call it that when I was little, because the white marble reminded me of marshmallow sandwiches.

His tone, and demeanor makes me nervous. I want to ask him more questions, what sort of work thing? If it's just work, why is mom so angry? Usually dad is the upbeat one, the optimistic one. I've never seen him quite like this, and It scares me a little.

I just nod and step back into the kitchen. Maybe now isn't the time for interrogation. I scan the counter for my lunch, taking in the kitchen.

Dad loves to cook, so we have a very nice kitchen. A big shiny stove, terrifyingly sharp kitchen knives all aligned neatly on the wall for convenience. It's pink, and blue to make it look less menacing. We have a huge black fridge, a white marble island with cushiony stools. We have a small cheap microwave, since dad doesn't believe in them. I hesitantly grab my paper lunch bag, and leave dad to his sulking.

I no longer have a bike, but I walk to school. Our neighborhood is generally safe, and perfect anyways. Perfect lawns, perfect boring houses, perfectly aligned. The school is only a few blocks away, and I can already kinda see it. New fresh building, just like the rest of the neighborhood. I pull out the camera from my backpack, snapping a photo of the scene. I decide I'm going to make it more chaotic in Photoshop, later.

I'm sitting in math class, and the hours are going by excruciatingly slow.

Everything is so orderly, so perfect. The desks are tan and the walls are white. To make it worse, the desks are perfectly sanitized, I hate that smell. To make it even worse than that, all I can think about is the night of the accident. I need to make time to sneak into the computer labs, I need to search for answers. What better place than the internet? There has to be an explanation, everything in this predictable world has one. This is all that I can think about.

Here's the thing about math. It's always the same. Predictable. There is no creativity to it, no outside of the box. It's just order. Miss one calculation, and it ruins the entire thing. This is why I hate math class the most. There are so many more unpredictable things going on in the world, that I need to understand.

Miss Evelin, our teacher, is monotone. Her hair is tied into a tight bun, and she wears the typical white,and grey uniform. White shirt, grey skirt. Knee length. I don't hear proper words coming from her any longer, because I can't take it anymore. I need a sense of chaos.

I very discreetly write a message in my note book. 'Want to put plan A into action?' I slowly tear the paper off the book, very quietly. I pass it to the red head next to me. His name is Chase. He's my best friend. He has a very welcoming face, filled with freckles. I know it as a mischievous one. His green eyes seem to light up, and a tiny smirk appears on his face. I know that means plan A is go.

Chase raises his hand. The teacher dramatically sighs, "What, Chase?"

Chase doesn't flinch at Miss Evelin's hostile tone.

He wiggles in his seat a little bit, sighs, as if taking his time. He puts his head on his hand. "Can I use the bath-room?" He bats his eyelashes, his voice like that of a pre-schoolers. Miss Evelin makes a gesture that probably means something along the lines of 'Get out of my sight'. Chase bounds from his seat, not taking his time to evacuate from the room.

The class continues as normal. (If you can consider the noise that the teacher makes when she talks as normal.) I really hope that Chase doesn't take his time.

I feel someone tap my shoulder behind me, then hear an accusing whisper in my ear.

"I know you two are up to something." Claire speaks from behind me. Ah. The goodie goodie. Mom always pushed me to hang out with her when I was younger. Shockingly, we never got along. Well, we did from her point of view. I only pretended to be nice. It worked.

This year I am different, and our 'friendship' has drifted apart. Everyone noticed I was different this year. Different meaning I was no longer pretending to be someone I was not. This was the year I met Chase, and everything seemed to get a bit better.

"What are you going to do," I glance back, whispering very quietly to escape the teachers notice. " Tell my mom?" I know without looking that Claire is glowering at me.

Chase comes back a few moments later, his eyes wide. I have to suppress a smirk.

"Mr. David said he needed to talk to you about something," he pauses, taking a breath as if preparing us all for something huge. "Really important." he emphasizes heavily on really, gesturing with his hands to emphasize it even further. "I ran into him on the way back." He explains at Miss Evelin's questioning look.

Miss Evelin's eyes suddenly explode with excitement, and it is honestly kind of disgusting. "Turn to that page in your book." She explains to us all half heartedly, then darts out of the room, her heels clicking loudly, and her hips swaying. She is completely, and utterly love-sick. So much that she couldn't even remember that she was supposed to teach an entire class of students for a moment.

It is really rather convenient the man she is infatuated with is two floors down.

As soon as the sound of foot steps fade, Chase runs over to me, the biggest boyish grin on his face I've ever seen.

Claire scoffs from behind us, standing up with this expression on her face like we'd personally offended her. "I know you didn't really run into Mr. David," She smirked. "Everyone else will know it too, then you two will get into so much trouble. "

Somehow the goodie-goodies expression was menacing and evil. Which was SO contradicting to me. Maybe it was the true state of her soul. A demon trying to be an angel. She sounded like she'd look forward to our punishment.

Chase and I share a look, then look back to her.

"Yep" we both say this at the same exact time, each of us popping the p. Then we give each other almost the same startled look, and laugh.

Chase interlocks his hand with mine, and we both start running. Out the back door, down the halls. We're free.