The sun was stowed away behind the thickening grey clouds. I walked out of the house with one hand tightly wrapped around the strap of my bag. Walking down the stone steps I looked up with a frown on my face. I didn't like the look of the sky.
"Do you think it's going to rain?" I asked Abby as I hopped into her SUV. She looked up at the sky through the windshield.
"Probably," she answered. I groaned as I fastened my seatbelt. "It's just a little rain, it won't kill you."
"I hate the rain," I told her. She turned the key in the ignition, the car roared to life before she backed out of my driveway and drove out the gate.
"I love the rain," she said and I scrunched up my face, she chuckled. "What? I like the way it feels pelting against my skin. I like the smell, and I like the sound of it hitting the ground."
"The only good thing about this kind of weather is the sound of thunder and the flashes of lightning," I remarked.
She shuddered. "I'm not a fan of thunder."
I chuckled. "Don't tell me you're afraid of thunder." She shrugged her shoulders and I chuckled again.
"You, Abigail Thompson, badass witch is terrified of a little thunder."
"At least I'm not afraid of the rain," she retorted.
"I'm not afraid of the rain," I said. "I'm just not a fan of it. It's wet and depressing."
"It's water, it's supposed to be wet," she quipped. I rolled my eyes. I looked out the windshield as we passed the "Welcome to West Chapel" sign. Nestled comfortably amidst the tall evergreen pine trees was the sleepy little town of West Chapel. It was a settlement of less than a thousand people. The streets were lined with locally owned small businesses.
We drove past the gas station first, three cars were already queued, waiting to fill up their tanks. We moved past Savvy's, the best and only diner in town. The neon sign perched up front buzzed signifying they were already open. We passed by the café, the wooden sign that hung over the front door gently swung from side to side as the wind blew against it. The shop owner, a little old woman with greying dark hair stood by the door, balancing a medium sized box in one arms as she tried to get the door open.
Abby slowed down when we neared the school. "Are you excited about your first day back?" She asked. I turned back to her.
I bit my bottom lip as I fiddled with the hem of my crimson sweatshirt. "I'm nervous," I said. Abby stopped the car in front of a stop sign. She waited until the three pedestrians had crossed the street before moving forward.
"Don't be," Abby said. "You've fought against hordes of demons, I think you can handle high school," she assured me and I chuckled.
"Somehow I doubt that, teenagers can be pretty terrifying."
She laughed. "Can't argue with that." She pulled the car to a halting stop in the school parking lot. "But don't need to be worried, Mark. You're not doing this alone. You have me, Adrian, Paige and even Jack."
"I know," I said, smiling at her.
I opened the car door, carefully stepping out and listening to my combat boots crunch the gravel. I stared up at the three story building and sighed; as nervous as I was, I glad to see this place again. Nothing about the academic building had changed. It stood as the same gracefully aging brick structure. The rust red brick walls were covered at the sides by overgrown ivy vines; they climbed up the wall and appeared like veins. The surrounding trees had shed off their autumn leaves and now they sprouted plush green leaves. Students filed into the school through the blue painted wooden doors.
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Salvation : Book 3
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