When the Storm Hits - Chase Stein

Two

Reaching home, I slam the door shut behind me. Then slowly slide down said door, gasping for air. The last time I tried out for a sport, was soccer last year. The school invested in these soccer balls that would build up energy as they were used, the energy would go into providing LED light for people who couldn't afford it or something. It was as expensive as it sounds and I somehow managed to pop every ball that was kicked towards me. Then, of course, everyone assumed it was a prank. I was suspended for a week, and my mother had to cover all the expenses, she was not happy about that.

Just the memory of the scolding, making me shake. Not so much in fear though, more like rage. No matter how many times I told her I didn't do it, she wouldn't believe me, she never believes anything I say. She assumes that I'm doing all this on purpose, that it's some elaborate scheme I've conjured up to punish her.

I grab my hand lightly, it still feels like there's electricity coursing through it. Wincing, I pick myself up from the floor and start the long trek to my room. When I open it, I'm not surprised to see my bed made, the floor cleaned, and a fresh pile of laundry sitting atop my dresser. When my mother doesn't have work to do, which is infrequent, she goes on a cleaning spree. She doesn't have to do much, the only thing that needs to be cleaned is my room.

I toss my backpack on the floor and kick my shoes off, a quick glance out the window and I see the darkness beginning to set over the sky. Sighing, I fall back onto my well-made bed, preparing to take a quick seven-hour procrastination map on my history essay. My eyes slowly droop down and just as a beautiful meadow begins to creep into my vision, my phone pings.

Groaning, I feel around in the direction of the noise. My hand clutches the familiar device and I raise it above me, it's a text from Alex. A picture, to be more precise, of the whole gang. We look to be around five or six, I can practically hear what's going on inside the photo. Everyone is screaming, I'm tackling Chase to the ground, Gert is tugging at Karolina's hair, Alex is trying to get Nico's attention as she stares at a worksheet with a puzzled look on her face, and Molly is in the corner laughing at all of us while Amy is behind her trying to braid her hair, but it looks more like she's trying to tie her hair in a bow like a ribbon. It brings a fond smile to my face, I curse Alex internally but continue to stare at the photo.

But the moment is ruined as my phone slips from my hand, I'm not able to catch it before it slams into my face, "Shit!"

The walk to Alex's house is short but tedious. I shove the piece of tissue higher up my nostril, but it just worsens the flow of blood trailing from it. By the time I arrive at Alex's doorstep, only Chase is there and the blood has begun to trail down my chin.

Hopping up the steps, I sneak in next to him. He doesn't notice me though, his eyes trained on the doorbell.

"So, ya gonna press is?" I ask, not expecting the five-foot jump it would elicit from him. I can't suppress the laugh that escapes me at his expression.

He glares at me, but it doesn't have it's usual spite to it, "What are you laughing at, Carrie?"

The feeling of blood trickling down my chin is somewhat offputting. Reaching my hand up to my face, I touch my nose, but I flinch away from the pain. Chase's face softens for a fleeting moment.

I smile lightly, "You're lucky, I don't light a fire to your ass right now," I tease.

Chase returns the smile. The smile that he used to share when he actually liked spending time with me. Familiar feelings begin to rise to the surface, my smile drops and I panic.

No, no, no. Not feelings, that's not good— that's gross— stop that.

The smile drops from Chase's face, he looks at me curiously.