Taken

Chapter 4

            My fingers tug down the sleeve of my blazer to cover the burn as I finish up my cereal. When I glance over my shoulder, I find Charlie rubbing the sleep out of his eyes with his fists. He's wearing his red pajamas with little trains on them, his hair mused and his bright blue eyes groggy. He yawns.

            "Good morning," he murmurs in a soft voice, his vowels and constantans slurring together which makes it difficult for me to understand him.

            I give him a nod in return and take another bite of my Cheerio's.

            As he sluggishly makes his way onto the chair beside me, I retrieve an extra bowl from the cupboard and pour him some Frootloops since I don't know when Mother will be down.

            We sit in a peaceful silence, the only sound being our spoons clinking against the bowl and the muffled munching of cereal being chewed. After a moment I glance over at my younger brother out of the corner of my eye and see him swing his little legs back and forth as he holds his spoon horizontally. He shovels another spoonful in his mouth.

            A small smile tugs at the corners of my lips as I watch him. It must be nice to be so young and innocent; oblivious to what's going on around you. Sometimes I wish to be like that, but I know that I'd rather be in the loop than out of it. As of right now, I'm somewhere in the middle.

            Heels clack on the staircase as our mother makes her way down the wooden steps. I take this as my cue to leave.

            After placing my bowl in the sink, I give Charlie a kiss on the head before hurrying out the door, not wanting to risk any interaction with Mother; though the chances of that happening are slim.

            With one final glance at my house while thoughts of my younger brother swim through my head, I climb onto my bike and make my way to the hell that is my high school.

            Once there, I walk inside of the building with my head down. It's not like I can see over anyone's shoulder anyway, I haven't even hit five-foot yet. I don't think I ever will so I am doomed to stare at the cracked linoleum flooring and people's shoes for the rest of my high school career. It's fascinating how so many people can own the same type of shoe and not realize it.

            I dial in my combination and grab my chemistry book, hurrying to class so I won't be counted tardy. I slide into my desk near the window and start to copy down the homework assignment that is written on the board when I freeze. My body tenses as the grip on my pen tightens.

            I'm being watched.

            My eyes slowly travel around the classroom, but no one is paying any attention to me. I then turn my gaze to the courtyard outside of the window. It's small and sits in the middle of the school with a few picnic tables and benches scattered around it. The large oak tree that sits in the middle is shadowed from the school two story building.

            I narrow my eyes at it as I look closer, seeing someone standing underneath the tree's branches.