Fifteen Feet Ahead

Chapter I

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Chapter I

I guess I should start with the last time everything felt normal.

Slumped on the couch, and Duncan and I were attempting to squeeze in two entire summer reading books before high school began next week. Well...let me rephrase that-- I was trying to read, Duncan was laying on the carpeted floor, fiddling with some game on his phone as he shoved handfuls of potato chips into his mouth. The plastic Lay's bag ruffled with each new scoop of crisps. As the amount of chips in the bag decreased, the more his hand dug, and the more sound he made.

I guess this sound was my excuse for being on page one hundred seven, still having no idea what the names of the main characters were.

But obviously this wasn't the only sound. It was late August, and the hurricane thunderstorms raged outside the window. Every ten or so minutes, a huge rumble of thunder would almost shake the siding off the house and cause my entire body to jolt a few feet in the air. (Okay maybe not a few feet, but you get the point.)Duncan's lawn was one huge murky puddle, and the streets were nothing but rivers of rainwater.

"Randy?" Duncan croaked. His voice did that a lot. Finally he was evolving from that high pitched Calliou voice.

I could see him looking at me from the corner of my eye. I refused to respond, I needed to focus.

"Randy?"

'Randy' was only a name Duncan could call me, a guy's name. I don't remember the last time or if he ever called me 'Miranda' in his entire life. It was only Duncan's thing, and the thought of him ever calling me by my real name makes me nauseous.

Duncan and I have been best friends since before I can remember. Our moms met in college, been through a lot together, so I guess our friendship was already created before we were even born. I knew we'd always be side by side.

"Hey, Randy", his voice raised. I rolled my eyes and pulled the book closer to my face. Duncan slowly creeped closer.

This was a time when he was still in that 'long Justin Bieber hairstyle' phase and when he wore bright basketball sneakers and shorts when it was still thirty degrees. Just a typical adolescent, not-so-good-looking, try-hard middle school boy. That was Duncan.

It wasn't long until I could feel his warm breath on the back of my hands. Why I didn't smack his face with the back of my hard-cover novel, I don't know. He always irritated the crap out of me, especially during this point of our lives. Even though we were in the same grade, he was like a little brother most of the time. Instead of slapping him, I just narrowed my eyes and loudly flipped the page.

"RANDY!", he screamed.

"Oh my God, what?!" I slammed the book down on the couch cushion.

"I'm bored."

"Yeah, well maybe you should try to catch up on your Summer reading." I suggested sassily.

"Who do you think I am?" Duncan chuckled. "Oh Randy, you know I'm just Sparknoting that?"

I worry for Duncan. He really doesn't give a crap about school most of the time. Now we were starting freshman year, high school, when grades actually counted.

A rumble of thunder pounded my chest.

"There's an assessment on it during the first week of school," I said a-matter-of-factly. A familiar stench entered my nostrils, and I scrunched my nose, "And by the way, your breath reeks."

Duncan thought that was really funny, so he proceeded to blow his foul warm breath all over my face, sour cream and onion.

"Ew Duncan! Oh my god, grow up a little!" I snapped, choking and coughing. He threw his head back, his dark hair falling his face, as he laughed mischievously. I couldn't believe that this kid would be going into high school in less than seven days.