Chapter 1

Unfinished

The sound of her breathing disturbs the silence. Step after step, echoing into darkness. The moonlight peered through a veil of clouds, not a star in sight. Street lights flickering onto the sea of black concrete. With each deep breath in, the smell of wet fields and pavement flood her senses. A burning sensation begins to rush over her legs, making each step more and more unbearable. Her body begins to ache, the pit in her stomach growing larger and larger.
She tries to push through it but the pain is too overwhelming.
The young women stops abruptly, hands on her knees, breathing erratically, staring at the ground which was momentarily illuminated by the flicker of a light pole ahead. With every flash of light, the shadow of something in front of her became more and more evident. She slowly lifted her head to catch a glimpse of who or what was standing in the distance.
The faulty light began to reveal the figure of a person, eyes hiding behind the shadow of a hood, mouth and nose barely visible. The shock sent a sharp needle sensation all over her body.
"Uh...hi." She greeted anxiously. There was nothing but silence. Growing uneasy, she took a step backwards. A smile slowly began to appear underneath the hood.
Without warning, the figure started walking towards her rapidly. Her body now overrun with terror, she ran as fast as she could without looking back. Her breath fell short, her legs started to tremble, her body gave out. The frightened woman dropped to her knees, not able to go on any further. Her screams echoed into darkness.
"Please! Someone help me! Please! Anybody!" She shouted with her last ounce of breath. Her screams were met with silence. Tears running down her face, she frantically looked for the figure.
Footsteps. The sound of footsteps could faintly be heard over the sound of her heart pounding.
"What do you want!? Why are you doing this? She yelled into the dark.
The footsteps grew closer and closer. The figure appeared out of the shadows and stood in front of the frightened girl. She looked up into the hood but all she saw was darkness.
"Please don't hurt me!" She pleaded.
The figure reached in its coat and pulled
out--
"Joseph! Wake up! You're gonna be late for school!" Mrs. Waller yelled upstairs.
Joey opened his eyes. Sunlight filled his room. He looked towards his alarm clock with his eyes focusing. Joey had overslept and had no chance of catching the bus to school. Usually this would bother him but the vivid dream plagued his thoughts. It had felt so real. Almost like he was there.
Joseph S. Waller, he prefers Joey, was your average, run of the mill 15 year old. Tall in stature, scrawny with brown choppy hair and hazel eyes. Girl crazy like most teenage boys. Devoted all of his time to sports, baseball in particular. His grades were mediocre at best, not that he didn't care, but it seemed like there were always more important things to do than school work.
Joey quickly jumped out of bed and tried to navigate around his disaster of a room. Dirty clothes completely covering his tan carpet, trash can overflowing with candy wrappers and crunched up paper. He swiftly threw on the first set of clothes that smelt, well, somewhat clean. There was no time to waste on hair or teeth so he decided to just deal with the bedhead and bad breath. Joey rushed down his staircase lined with school portraits and family photos, nearly knocking them off while putting on his backpack. In the kitchen he finds his mom sitting at the table drinking her morning coffee. Mrs. Waller was a lot like Joe. Tall and slender, brown hair to her shoulders, always had a smile. Although Joey didn't say it enough, he thought she was a great mom. She took care Joey and his little sister, cleaned the house, made dinner and had time to help him with his worst subject, math. She was also his biggest fan at his baseball games, cheering so loudly that all the coaches called her "Mrs. Wailer." Joey didn't mind it, he felt like it gave him an edge when the other teams players couldn't concentrate over the screaming in the stands.
"Mom.. I need a ride to school, I missed the bus." He exclaimed.
"Your dad already left with the car Joseph, can't you ride your bike?" She questioned.
Joey's parents didn't know this yet but the new bike he had gotten for his birthday a few months ago was wrecked and hidden in the garage under some old rugs. The front rim had cracked when he tried to jump over a creek behind his school. Joey pedaled as fast as he could through a narrow dirt path and shot the bike through the air. Flying across the creek for what felt like minutes quickly turned to seconds when the path across the water got further and further away. Just when he thought there was a chance he could make it, the bike smashed into a boulder, and Joe plunged sideways into the knee deep murky water. Completely drenched he walked his bike all the way home, hid it in the garage, and snuck in his house to change without anyone noticing. This wasn't just an ordinary bike, it was top of the line. Solid red frame, thick tires for skidding, and a custom leather seat. Joe loved his bike, he called it "the flash". The wreck was devastating to him but hiding it for a while seemed like a the easiest way to avoid getting in trouble until he could find a way to fix it.
"Uh...yeah. I'll just ride my bike. Bye mom, see ya later." Joey rushed for the door before Mrs. Waller could ask anymore questions.
"Have a nice day!" She called out as the front door slammed shut.
It was a nice day out, the sun was shinning and not a cloud in sight. Joey checked his watch while walking to the garage. 07:43. Seventeen minutes until first period history. Walking to the school on the other side of town would take at least twenty. He knew there was only one option but he didn't like it. Joey grabbed the rusty garage handle and yanked it upwards. Light shinned through the dusty room revealing a cluttered mess with cobwebs everywhere. His dads work bench and tool box took over the right side of the room, while the left was filled with a stack of boxes, a lawn mower, his little sisters bike and the old rugs that were concealing his once prized possession. This was his only option if he wanted to get to school on time, so he grabbed the handle bars, walked the bike outside and slammed the garage door shut.
Pedaling as fast as he could Joey couldn't help but think how his day could get any worse. It was bad enough he missed the bus, but now he was going to get to school, possibly late, riding his little sisters bright pink bike. The rainbow tassels were blowing in the wind, only adding to the embarrassment. It was apparent that this bike was for a young girl, but down the street pedaled Joey. It felt like he was riding a clowns tricycle, knees up to his chest, hardly able to steer. He was going to be a laughingstock.
Feymont, population of 2,800. The small town was encompassed by fields almost as if it had been dropped from the sky in the middle of nowhere. A single highway drove straight through the heart of the city, but with only a few miles between the welcome sign and edge of Feymont, this quaint little town was easy to miss. South of the highway was dedicated to multiple housing developments which spread out for miles, branching out like a great oak tree. The Wallers resided on Pine Crest avenue, which sat on the outer end of these large sub divisions, only seeing barren fields across the street from their home. Joey dashed to the corner of Pine crest and Feymont Ridge, a long narrow road that cut across the highway to the other side of town. He took the turn so sharp he nearly fell off the little pink bike into a rock bed next to the sidewalk. He caught his balance and raced on, now standing up on the pedals. Flying down Feymont Ridge, Joey finally caught up to the highway crosswalk, slamming on the breaks, skidding to the line. He looked left, than right. Only one car could be seen in the distance. He thought about waiting for the car to pass, but then a little voice inside his head took over and shouted, "go for it!"
Joey charged across the highway as fast as he could, sweat started to trickle down his face. Making it safely to the other side, he pressed on.
"Almost there. Almost there." He chanted to himself.
Barreling down the road, he glanced at his watch. 7:52. Eight minutes and fifteen blocks to go. Now was not the time to ease up, despite the exhaustion setting in. He hopped onto the curb of Main street and cycled as fast as he could.
"Almost there. Almost there. Almost there." He continued chanting while trying to catch his breath.
Main street sat on the north end of the highway, filled with a wide array of shops, clinics and Mr. Watson's grocery store. Mr. Watson's family had lived in Feymont for generations, his father had built the store when he was just a boy, passing it down to him, the oldest of four children. The store featured a small produce section, a deli and 6 aisles of food. Joey would stop in almost everyday after school to buy red licorice and a blue raspberry slushy. Rain or shine, the brain freeze was worth it.
Joey flew passed the grocery store following the sidewalk further northeast, traveling by a small apartment complex, laundry mat and the Feymont water tower. The rusted metal structure had stood there for decades and could be seen from miles around. Rumor has it, that in the dead of night a teenage girl could be seen pacing back and forth on the catwalk. This girl is believed to be the ghost of a high school senior who for reasons unknown jumped off the tower and plummeted to her death. Those who believed this rumor to be true named her "the weeping woman," due to the cries that could be heard in the middle of the night. Although Joey and his friends had always talked about sneaking out late at night to try and see her for themselves, the thought of her being real gave him the creeps.
One block over stood the finish line, Feymont High School. Following along a string of chain linked fences Joey was almost at the entrance. 7:58. No time to waste. He pulled into the front of the school and slammed the pink wheels into the bike rack. Jumping off he hit the ground running, blasting through the empty courtyard towards D-wing. Slamming open the door and bolting down the hallway lined with lockers, he looked down at his watch one more time.
7:5- Crack
Knocked off his feet, papers flew through the air. Joey's head was throbbing as he pushed his body up off the ground while his blurred vision started to come back. Looking over he noticed a girl with long brown hair sitting up, holding her head in her hands. Blood started trickling down her wrists.
"I'm sorry, I didn't see you." He uttered remorsefully while standing up.
Crouching on one knee in front of her, he started picking up the loose papers on the ground hoping to help.
"Are you okay?" He asked even though with the amount of blood, Joey knew it was serious.
"Why can't you watch where the hell your running!" She yelled.
The girl slowly pulled her blood covered hands from her face, looking up at Joey. It became apparent who she was.
Stacey Carter. Even with blood flushing from nose to neck, she was still the most stunning girl in school. Wavy dark brown hair flowed down her upper back. Her hourglass figure had been the staple of conversations for both guys and jealous girls alike. Water started to fill her light brown eyes.
"You broke my nose you dick." Stacey cried. Bright red blood began to drip onto her soft pink blouse.
"Stacey. I am so sorry. Let me help you to the nurse." Joey said sympathetically.
"Get away from me." She shouted as she ran out of the hallway, hands holding her nose.
A trail of blood drops followed along the dirty white tiles. The hallway door slammed shut.
Of all the people to run into, she was the last he would ever wish it to be. Joey gathered up the rest of Stacey's papers and walked over to room 405.
Peaking through the window it was evident the class had started without him. Standing at the front was Mr. Calaveras, the world history teacher, a lot of students called him "coach", because he was head coach of the varsity baseball team.
Mr. Calaveras was short, not fat but not skinny, kinda in between. He had tan skin, dark black hair with hints of gray, the thickest eyebrows you've ever seen and small circular glasses. His dress attire was always very similar. Black slacks, a long-sleeve button up shirt and a goofy looking tie. On game days, the ties usually had baseballs on them, kinda like a ritual. Anytime a player had been late or missed coach Calaveras' class, they would be benched for at least three games, in some cases the whole season. He was serious about his baseball team but even more unforgiving when it came to world history. With the season quickly approaching and try outs next week, Joey feared this horrible day could ruin his chances of being the first sophomore to make varsity. An overwhelming feeling of anguish washed over him as he grasped the cold door handle. With a deep breath in, he pushed open the door, ready to accept the consequences.
The entire class had come to a halt and stared directly at Joey slowly walking to his seat.
"Nice of you to join us Mr. Waller." Mr. Calaveras hollered across the room.
Joey stopped dead in his tracks, filled with shock and embarrassment.
"Sorry coach.." Joey muttered.
"I hope this doesn't become a trend, it would be a shame if detention got in the way of tryouts next Tuesday. Take your seat." Said Mr. Calaveras sternly.
Joey felt sick to his stomach. Walking through a row of desks the snickering of other students could be heard across the room. Approaching the back of classroom, he pulled off his backpack, set Stacey's papers on his desk and sat down. Reaching for his history book the laughter ceased and the class continued.
"Way to go Joe." He heard chuckling from the desk to the left of his.
"Shut up you a*****e." Joey whispered back as he looked over.
"Hey! It's not my fault you can't show up on time." Said the boy sitting next to him.
This was Wesley Scott, he had been Joey's friend since elementary school. Wes had short dirty blonde hair, blue eyes and freckles on his nose and cheeks. His sense of humor was lost on some but to Joey, he was the funniest guy in school. Usually Joey avoided eating around him in fear of spitting out his food from laughter. Wes was very unpredictable and always amusing to watch.
"Damn Joe, your breath stinks! And what is that, ketchup on your shirt? I'm gonna start calling you sloppy joe." He whispered across at Joey.
Looking down at his blue shirt Joey noticed that Wes wasn't kidding. There was a blob of red on the bottom of his shirt about the size of a half dollar.
"Did you start your period early this month?" Wes said laughing.
Slightly embarrassed, Joey gave him the middle finger while flipping through his history book.
"Alright class, lets talk about the nile. Who knows how long it is?" Mr. Calaveras questioned.
A handful of people raised their arms, Joey however pushed his face in his book, hoping not to get called on.
"Sarah. Whatcha got." Coach said.
"4,258 miles." Sarah answered from across the room, peering over her book.
"Pffttttt!" Wes had put his hands over his mouth and muffled a loud fart noise that echoed throughout the room.
The class erupted. Everyone was laughing except for Sarah whose head retreated into her history book.
Sarah Conacher was a short, conservative girl. Blonde hair, usually in a ponytail, pale white skin and a plump unflattering body. She wasn't very popular, but that didn't seem to bother her. Sarah's hand was always the first to be raised in any class, her head always in a book. She took her school work very seriously, and always boasted about her 4.0 GPA.
"Mr. Scott, you can keep me company in detention after school." Shouted Mr. Calaveras.
"Coach that was a sneeze! Wes replied.
"Nice try. Very good Sarah, thats correct. Can anyone name some of the countries the river lies on?" Coach continued.
"Bless you." Joey whispered over trying not to laugh.
"Like I'm actually gonna go to detention." Wes scoffed.
Trying to focus on the lecture, Joey's attention was drawn to the stack of papers on his desk that Stacey had dropped. Notes for her science class. They were studying the effects of photosynthesis. As he read through the notes he noticed all of her i's were dotted with little hearts. This only infatuated him further. He began to wonder if she was ok. If her nose was really broken and how he could make it up to her. The incident started to cloud his thoughts, replaying over and over in his head. Why did it have to be her. Was it fate? Was Stacey Carter, the prettiest girl in school, supposed to hate him. Consumed with the thoughts of his crush, the hour long class ended in what felt like minutes.
A thunderous tone echoed throughout the school. Joe scrambled to get his things together, smashing a history book and stack of papers into his bag, he dashed for the door. Next was gym class, his favorite part of the day aside from going home after school.
"Don't forget, your going to have a test on Friday covering chapters five and six. I highly recommend you complete the reading assignments." Mr. Calaveras shouted out into the disruption of the class leaving.
Joey and Wes started walking down the hallway of D-wing. Looking down, Joey noticed the the blood drops from Stacey's nose had dried up on the ground.
"You know what we're doing for gym today?" Wes asked while opening the hallway doors to the patio.
"I think we're playing basketball." Joey replied.
"Alright! I've been working on my jump shot." Wes said jumping in the air with his hands up, mimicking the move.
"Hey guys, wait up." They heard from behind.
Running up to Wes and Joey was Jackson Miller, the missing piece to their little gang.
Jackson was the shortest of the three, a little pudgy, with bright red hair, an abundance of freckles and thick, black-framed glasses. Jackson and Wes were polar opposites when it came to their personalities. Wesley was very outspoken and unreserved, compared to the timid, nervous, quiet natured ginger. The three had been together for what seemed like an eternity, more like family than friends.
"Did you guys hear? Some a*****e punched Stacey Carter in the nose! She's bleeding all over the nurses office." Jackson said excitingly
"Whoa, no way? What kinda dick would do that?" Wes chimed in.
"I DIDN'T HIT HER! I RAN INTO HER." Joey blurted out.
"Holy s**t. Your the a*****e? Hahaha." Wes started laughing hysterically.
"It's not funny, I think I really hurt her." Joey said remorsefully.
"Why'd you run into her?" Jackson asked.
"I was late for history and I was running down the hallway. I didn't even see her, she came outta nowhere." Cried Joey.
"So thats why you were late? You were too busy beating up Stacey Carter? That is the funniest thing I've ever heard." Wes continued roaring.
Wesley's laughter could be heard across campus only adding to the embarrassment.
"Shut up Wesley!" Joey yelled at him, turning red in the face.
The boys continued to walk towards the locker room, Wesley not easing up. Any girls that passed he would shout out,"Hey girls, watch out. This a*****e will punch ya."
Joey walked with his head down in shame, he didn't find Wesley very funny today.
"I'll see you guys in english." Jackson said veering away from the group.
"Smell ya later ginger ale." Wes snickered.
An angry glare rushed over Jackson's face as he looked down and walked towards B-wing.
"Why do you have to do that? You know he hates being called a ginger. Your just gonna piss him off." Joey lectured.
"You know he hates that, why do you do that, blah blah blah.." Wesley mocked in a shrill voice.
Approaching the locker room entry, Wesley jumped in the air and did a karate kick into the door.
"Hiyah!" Wes shouted.
The door flew open, and slammed against the wall with a loud crash.
"You have issues." Joey giggled shaking his head.
Stepping into the locker room, the smell of deodorant and cologne burned their eyes and pierced through their nostrils. This was the ordinary aroma of the dirty locker room, full of sweaty teenage boys desperate to conceal the stink from gym class. Joey opened up his locker to find it completely empty.
"S**t. Wesley, do you have an extra p.e uniform I can borrow?" Joey yelled over to Wesley changing.
"No I don't. Look in the lost and found box. I think i saw an extra set in there." Wesley replied.
Joey couldn't catch a break. The lost and found box was always full of disgusting old clothes and piss covered jock straps. Sticking your hand in there would almost guarantee the need for a tetanus shot.
Navigating through the row of lockers Joey approaches the office in the back of the room. Sitting next to the door was a tall dingy box with the poorly written words," lost & found. Hesitant to touch anything inside, Joey stood in front of the box and peaked in. Nothing. No gym clothes to be seen.
"Wesley, there's no uniform in here."Joey yelled across the locker room.
"It was a few weeks ago, it might be at the bottom." Wes shouted back.
Joey sighed and slowly shoved his hand in.
Carefully digging through the pile of unwanted clothes a grey shirt emerged. He grabbed the shirt and held it up in front of him. A small wrinkled gym shirt with the faded letters FHS and a colorless eagle, the school mascot. Throwing it over his shoulder Joey reached in again to find some shorts. A plaid coat, dirty sock, black shirt but no blue shorts. Digging deeper and deeper past sweat stained jock straps and smelly old shoes he came across a scrunched up ball of faded blue. He snatched up the shorts and quickly retreated his arm from the box.
Back at his locker he threw on the nasty smelling faded shirt and unraveled the shorts. Joey realized that these were the smallest size available. They would probably fit a five year old. Pulling them up to his waist, the ends of the shorts only went down to his upper thigh.
A whistle echoed through the locker room.
"Sexy! Look at those legs. Strut it girl." Wes blurted out.
"Not another word. Or I'll tell Ms. Wheatly who it was she saw peeking through her bedroom window last weekend." Joey threatened.
A flush of red could be seen on Wesley's face, his smile disappeared immediately.
"You wouldn't.." Wes mumbled.
"Wanna bet?" Joey smirked.
Wesley had nothing to say throughout gym class, but the other students couldn't help but laugh at Joey's tiny gym shorts. Gathered in the middle of the gymnasium, the classes attention was taken off of Joey and directed towards the large man approaching.
Walking toward the class with a clipboard in hand was Mr. Crawford, the dark haired, over weight physical education teacher. He had worked at Feymont High for a few years now, a very quiet man.

Author's Note

A lot of grammar and spelling issues any criticism is constructive though

Reviews

[C. Lee Battaglia]

Wow!
Very well written and it touched me,
Can I just say though, you have potential!
My favorite part was, ""Wanna bet?" Joey smirked.
Wesley had nothing to say throughout gym class, but the other students couldn't help but laugh at Joey's tiny gym shorts. Gathered in the middle of the gymnasium, the classes attention was taken off of Joey and directed towards the large man approaching."
Please continue to write and read!
Can you by chance look at my story The Blonde Girl, It would really mean a lot to me.
Your new fan,

C. Lee Battaglia