Kicking Pebbles

Chapter 1
Without a Care

The squirrel seems to tumble more than walk as it makes its way down the cold, stone bridge. I throw a glare its way, which makes it skitter into a tree at the edge of the bridge. My fingers brush over the rough stone, and I teeter a little as I glance over the edge where I sit, at the frozen pond thirty feet below. A warm breath escapes my lips, leaving a visible cloud floating in the cold.

A grinding noise, much like rubber over gravel, reaches my ears too late, and I spin my head over to locate the approaching intruder. My eyes become wide as I find the owner of the loud bike rolling toward me. A tall, somewhat lanky boy, by the name of William Crow. I attempt to hide my face by turning my attention back to the iced over pond. The noise comes to a stop at my back and I let out a breath, of course he would stop.

"H-hey, um... K-kirsten? Is that you?" His teeth chatter from the cold. Shit. I don't move, I don't even shake, as my body pleads me to. "Hey?" I hear the kickstand go down from his bike as he gets off. Shit shit shit. "Kirsten." His hand goes down on my shoulder and I flinch slightly, turning to look him in the eye.

"William," I greet.

"Kirsten, what are you doing out hear?" He asks, and I fear its in worry.

"Nothing," which is of course a lie. He looks at me like he doesn't believe me, and a lock of his ash black hair shakes in the wind pushing it away. We stare for a long time, long enough for me to notice his warm breath on my face.

"Come on, I'll take you home," he finally states. And I don't hesitate to swing my legs back over onto the bridge. Because although I would have gone through with it, I am still scared as hell and will take any excuse to back out, William is my excuse.

My feet place themselves on the back of his bike, and I don't realise when I put my hands on his shoulders and hold on. He pushes of toward my house, about three miles away. And I think of him, of how we met, which really I can't remember, because he had always been there, we had no specific start. I think of our closeness, as toddlers and then as kids. He was the only boy on earth immune to cooties at the time.

My heart had broken when his mother and father split up and he left for Philadelphia, I was eleven at the time and we had been dreaming of middle school together for the longest time. We still sent letters in the mail, but when school began they were fewer and farther apart.

Within two years he had managed to stir up enough trouble that his mother figured time with his dad was what he needed. He moved back to Massachusetts when I was 13 and it felt like we had lost any friendship we had once had. Our parents decided it would be nice for us to reconnect, but after a late August barbeque that left us munching on carrot sticks and nothing to talk about, we decided to leave it at acquaintances.

It didn't help when school started and William was bullied heavily for his ingenious mind, and I kept to myself as I wasn't know to stand up for labeled nerds. By high school we were basically strangers, with nothing in common other than the fading memories and an Advanced Biology class.

As he peddles along all I can hear is the rubber over every little break in the road and a bird screaming its chant. Neither of us speak, leaving the wind's howl to do the talking. My house becomes larger as we approach, and three houses before it I notice the silver PT cruiser sitting in the driveway. Two houses away and I pat William's should.

"Can you stop hear?" I ask and he does wordlessly. Putting my feet on the ground one at a time I look up at him, "thank you," I say. And with that I turn my back on him and walk away before he can see my cheeks burning with red and my eyes ready to flood. No, don't cry, not now. Just a little longer.

The snow crunches beneath my feet as I walk, but that's all I hear. William, he is still there, watching me. I refuse myself the need to turn around, and continue until I reach my mailbox. Then the driveway and the already frosty car. Not yet. Then I'm at the stairway to the porch. Soon. I'm on the porch and I don't know if William is still there, but I do not check and push the front door open.

Heat rushes to my fingertips, to the tops of my ears, and to my red cheeks. Charge, our jack rustle, jumps up at me and licks my hands. I pet him silently while he nudges me to ruffle his fur, I obey. Standing back up I unlace my boots and leave them by the door. I can hear a newspaper crinkle, and know my father is sitting in his den that sits behind the dining room that is near the staircase in front of me. He insists that this traditional way of finding news is to be carried on, nonconformist, he says. I mentally beg him not to call me over, and don't stay long enough to allow him so. Creeping up the wooden stairs I graze my fingers over the railing. Now.

I reach my room and am barely able to twist the knob before exhaling a sob that turns into a wail. Inside my bedroom I collapse onto the floor leaning up against my shut door and cry. I don't want to think of all the reasons to cry, I just want to do it. My shoulders shake and I burry my face in my palms. I want to scream, but my father is just downstairs, and I am too exhausted.

I rest my head on the floor and roll my body so that I am on my back. I let out a breath and feel my tear stained face begin to cool down. Staring at my ceiling I sigh, this is why I want it over. I don't want to think, or cry, or feel. I want nothingness. I want darkness, and silence. I want absolute quiet, life is so loud, even right now, here in my room, I hear my breaths, signifying my existence.

Rolling onto my side I cannot help but think, because I am human, and thinking is a distraction from not thinking, which I did for as long as I could. Still, thinking about nothing is still thinking.

I pull my sweater sleeves over my fingers and rest my head on my hands. This seems to draw out for a very long time. And at one point or another I close my eyes.

When I got home the sun had already decided to hide beneith the horizon, but now it was gone and darkness engulfed my bedroom. A warm light under my door and the dim glow behind my drapes were all my eyes could fall on, which I did not appreciate. I am not afraid of the dark, but I dislike the unknown greatly. And for a girl who dreams of no longer existing, I will not tolerate darkness. Because nothingness is obvious, and dependable. Whereas darkness is just a blanket over reality and my imagination being allowed to do its damnedest to torture me.

I feel for my phone in my pocket, and locating it, flash on it's flashlight. I see that my sleep lasted an hour and a half and feel relief that I had not missed dinner. The last thing I need is my mother worrying. Because God knows I would never tell her, but she knows, and always has.

I drag myself off the floor and to the light switch by the door which I flick on. My groggy eyelids squint at the brightness and I take my time walking to the mirror over my desk. I wipe away invisible tears that had left an hour ago and dab on some concealer to fake an energetic appearance.

Cracking my bedroom door open I glanced down the hall at the stairs and listen for my father. I hear the television but can't make out what it is. I pop back in my room for a moment and lift my blue coat off my bed, the one I had left here this afternoon before going to the bridge. Slipping my arms into the sleeves and grabbing my brown backpack I come out of my room again and make my way down the stairs. The roaring of a football game in the living room sounds out the quiet steps my feet covered in white knit tights make. And slipping my brown lace up boots back on I pop my head into the living room, revealing my father on the couch with Charge and the glow of the television against his face.

"Leaving for Mom's" I tell him, and wait. He glances at me and mutes the TV.

"What do you want now?" He asks.

"I'm leaving for Mom's" I repeat.

"Fine" is all he says and he un-mutes his game. I turn my head back into the hallway and through the wall flip him off. Pulling my bag closer to my shoulder I walk out the door.

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So that's it for now. I don't know if the rest of the chapters will be longer or of equal length. Please please please comment, vote, and add my book to your library! I don't know how often I will update because this is new and I'm sure I'll find a routine that I like. Tell me what you think, I would love to hear! Xoxo

•••Shatteredkeys out•••