This and That

Grand Slam

This is how you do it, he signed.

At that point, he proceeded to fling the rock directly across the pond, and onto another rock in the middle. The stone ricocheted off and flew into a nearby tree, hitting the trunk and flying straight for the basket on the other side. I stared at the final resting place for a few moments before turning back to Turiah, attempting to hide my awe.

Having difficulty comprehending my skill?

"Oh, please. My grandma could throw better than that."

I may be mute but I'm not blind. I saw your shock at my proficiency.

"As if you need any more of an inflated ego? Plus, you haven't seen anything till you've watched my pitching skills." And with that I chucked the rock as if my life depended on it.

Now, one would think that with such love and skill in that most blessed of sports, baseball, I would by far outstrip Mr. High-and-Mighty's skills. But as fate would decide, I had no such luck. Instead of bouncing off the tree after hitting the rock in the middle of the pond, my pebble reverberated off that rock and flew straight across the field on the other side. Stunned, I watched its progress for a few seconds before comprehending the situation.

The large, stately mansion on the hill stood directly in the pebble's way.

Running as fast as the hem of my dress would allow, I followed the pebble as it flew, hoping I could do something. But in a few seconds the resounding CRASH of an upper story window let me know that I was too late. Standing directly in front of the house, I stared up along the outer face until I reached the shattered window. I heard dulled footsteps behind me, and soon Turiah stood at my side.

Grand slam, he signed with a maddeningly wide grin. I wanted to sock him in the face.

"Well," I drawled, "at least no one lives here." Right?

Turiah continued to stare uselessly at the front side of the mansion.

"Right, Turiah?"

I yanked him around to face me, not even trying to keep the desperation out of my voice. "Are you telling me this house isn't abandoned? That someone lives here? This is someone's home?" I choked up on the last word, and paused to gather my scrambled thoughts. And a disturbing thought crept in. "Have they been watching us act like total dorks this entire time?"

And then, because obviously my face needed a reason to turn a darker shade of scarlet, the front doors burst open.

A young man, close to Brian's age, with a burst of slick, jet-black hair, stood with all his pompous majesty at the base of the poor mansion. I could almost hear his angular, slightly freckled nose puncturing the air around him. Fists clenched and unclenched furiously with an energy matched only by those eyes--not quite green, but not exactly brown either, as if always shifting between the two.

"I don't know who you think you are, but I had better hear a well-crafted reason for breaking one of my mother's famous stained-glass windows, or so help me, I'll have the both of you executed."

So began my most unique experience with the ever-charming, Rune Askeland.