Dimokre Chronicles Book 1: Crossed Paths

Chapter 15 - One More Whipped Cream Puff and Crossing Paths

Michael yawned, sitting up. He stretched, looking at the wall. He decided a new angle would be helpful and more convenient, so he stayed up late Friday night putting the ex-rug collage on the wall. It stayed in place, and he had his floor back. All the string tied around the thumb tacks eventually led to one single picture at the top.

A younger, skinnier, and more awkward-looking version of Michael knelt on the ground and wrapped his arms around another black-haired kid, who was nine with excited, bright blue eyes. Michael remembered the leaves crunching when they moved. Alex had mumbled a complaint about their mother's insistence on taking yet another picture, and Michael had reminded him that the faster they do what she wants, the sooner they can eat lunch. Then, Michael had tickled Alex and managed to put his arms back in position, and their mom snapped the picture of their genuine smiles. Alex had laughed so hard that he had to lean hard against Michael's chest. Though that was probably just an excuse to be annoying, Michael thought, smiling.

That picture was taken a year ago. The forest's bright background was filled with trees and a blurred canopy of reds, oranges, and yellows. That day, Michael had come home after being bullied, and his mom decided they'd have a picnic in the woods. She told the school both her boys were sick, and they took the next day off work and school. That was the first time in a while that Michael had felt truly happy.

Michael shook his head, running his fingers through his hair.

Right, morning, gotta get up.

He had risen before the sun again. The dim street lamp's white light shone through the wide windows in the family room. He must've passed out on the couch. Again. Come to think of it, the last time he slept in his own bed was before Alex was...

His eyes flitted to the picture on the wall again. Michael swallowed, thinking. He was usually interrupted from his thoughts by now. He took out his brand new hoodie from the dryer and yanked it on over his T-shirt, and then waited a second. He didn't hear anything. Not a scratch. Not a bark. Nothing.

Where is that kid? Michael thought irritably. He wasn't accustomed to eating breakfast peacefully by himself without Kael's eyes peeking over the counter and begging for food. 'Just one more whipped cream puff.' 'More chocolate chips.' Michael sighed. I'm sure it's nothing.

He glanced at the stove, but his impatient stomach decided against that. After he poured himself a bowl of oatmeal raisin cereal, he went over to the windows. He watched for a little boy, the cereal and milk crunching and sloshing in his mouth. Finally, the last sip of milk slid down the bowl into his mouth.

He finished eating without a single plead for desserts. Michael grumbled, washing his dishes, and after a second, put away the Oreos he left out. He eyed the sink, the soap bubbles popping and going down the drain. No fox dove in to play with the bubbles. He glanced at the doggy door in the front. It didn't jiggle.

This is ridiculous. You let in one person, and they walk around your head like they own the place. He sighed, marching into his bedroom to finish up his homework. He kept taking breaks, bad feelings interrupting. He shook his head out of all these thoughts. Kael is sometimes late. Sometimes, he's not able to come at all. He's with his mom; stop being such a worry wort.

I should get to work. He snapped his book closed and stuffed what he needed in his backpack. His phone pinged, and after seeing who it was from, he reluctantly opened Sarah's texts like it was a ticking bomb. The first one was just her address, which he already had and saved in her contact.

'Dinner Sat night. Parents want to meet you and parents. But they said if your parents can't make it, they still want to meet you. And I think casual clothing is fine. 6 PM ok?'