THE GHOST CHRONICLES

CHAPTER TWO - DAD

Saturday

9:33 AM

Michael shielded his eyes as the late morning sun struck his face. Five minutes...just five more minutes. He cracked open one eye and squinted at the clock. Shit. It's that late already? Scooting over toward the window, he reached for the cord and jerked the mini-blinds up. A surge of warmth and energy shot through him as he surveyed his backyard. The grass needed cutting but other than that it was a perfect day. Not a cloud in the sky. Today's gonna kick some serious ass.

Like a man on fire, he sprang from bed, completed a few quick stretches and headed for the bathroom. He brushed his teeth and ran a comb through his unruly hair. Good enough. He couldn't be bothered wasting time in front of a mirror. Quickly tossing on an old t- shirt and a pair of gym shorts, he headed downstairs for breakfast.

The rich scent of coffee wafted up from below. His mother must've been up for a while already. As he entered the kitchen she smiled and said, "Good morning."

He instinctively bent down so his mother could stretch upon her toes and give him a tender kiss on the cheek. She then set about making him some eggs and toast, while he took a seat at the table across from his brother. Chris played with his breakfast and didn't acknowledge him. How freakin' annoying. So he's gonna pretend like nothing's wrong. Deciding the best way to approach the subject, Michael thumbed through the newspaper. Unfolding it with a snap, he gave his brother a long, hard glare. "Mom told me you got in another fight at school yesterday."

Near the stove his mother sucked in a deep breath, but didn't turn around.

Chris grumbled something inaudible and slouched in the chair. "Yeah...I did," he barely mumbled. 

Michael tensed, bracing for the inevitable battle. He slapped the paper down. His nervous habit kicked in and his knee began to bounce under the table. With some effort, he willed it to stop. As calmly as he could, he said, "So...why the hell did you pick a fight this time?

"Chris rolled his eyes. "I didn't pick a fight," he said, getting defensive. "The guy just got all...in my face."

"Yeah,it's always the other guy." He struggled to not raise his voice. "You sure you didn't get all in his face?"

His brother glowered at him. "Don't start..." 

Heat rushed from his neck to his cheeks. "Oh, I'll start alright." He leaned across the table until he was only inches from his brother's nose. With his gaze boring a tunnel through Chris' skull, he said, "Look, I told you before to cut out this crap. Mom shouldn't have to deal with your bullshit. This is the last time I'm gonna warn you."

"Alright...I know," Chris muttered,twisting away from his stare. "I'm sorry. It won't happen again."

Michael searched his brother's face for sincerity. No way to tell if Chris really meant it this time or not. Finally, he plopped back in the chair with an exasperated sigh. Picking up the paper again, he said sternly, "You better make damned sure it doesn't."

"It won't...sorry," Chris repeated, sounding more repentant this time. 

Michael processed the tone of his brother's voice and relaxed. It was impossible to stay irritated with him. He scowled for another second and then tackled the next issue. "How was the algebra test yesterday?"

Chris glanced up from his bowl of Rice Krispies. "Easy, I think I aced it." 

"Good." He reached for the mug of coffee his mother had put on the table. "Did you get your biology project back yet?"