Prologue
Ugh, morning was my first coherent thought that day when I swung my legs out of my bed and onto the cold linoleum floor of my bedroom. "I hate Mondays," I mumbled as I pawed the sleep from my eyes. Staggering on sleepy legs, I felt around for some clean clothes, not bothering to examine what I retrieved from the closet and pulling on a pair of sweats. Walking lazily down the hall, I snagged a towel from the closet only to growl when I found my sister had beaten me to the shower.
"Come on!" I called around my drowsiness. "You've had the first shower every day for the entire year! Don't you think it's time to be, I don't know, nice?" All I got in response was the sound of the bathroom door locking and a soft snicker. Grumbling to myself, I went back to my roomto tumble into the clean clothing, muttering cursesunder my breath. I knew for sure that she would take the rest of the hot water gleefully.
With some sense of revenge, I snagged the last two waffles from the freezer. The ones my sister April had had expressly dibsed two days to say, I didn't feel any guilt as I popped them in the toaster before setting myself up for a cat nap at the kitchen table as I waited for them to cook.
"Morning!" My mom said as she rounded the corner, in her every-cheery mood. Lifting my head, I managed to garble out some version of good morning, but that was all and I returned to the comforting darkness of the crook of my arm. An exasperated sigh reached my ears as I was chided.
"Stop being so moody all the time!" She reasoned. "It's not good for your health." Now, for anyone who didn't know my mom, her offering "good for your health" tips would see it as simple affection. But in reality it's the irritating mind of a psychologist picking at your brain. Unfortunately for me, the irritation and mind shrinking was a normalcy.
When I heard the waffles pop up, I sprang to my feet and snatched them, burning hot, from the toaster. I didn't even notice the heat as I scarfed them down, much to my mother's discomfort. But I was too focused on my food to notice her nervous shifting. And what made the heated tongue worth it was April's expression when she walked into the kitchen, a towel wrapped around her head.
"Are those mine?" She cried, lunging forward just as I popped the last bit into my mouth. Grinning around a mouthful of waffle, I nodded, sidestepping herflying body."I DIBSED those! Mom!" And there she went, crying to mother. As per usual.
Shaking my head, I ascended the stairs, leaving behind my mother's gentle scolding and my sister's tearful accusations. Pushing open the door to my room, I hunted around for my discarded text book that was hidden somewhere amidst the strewn books, clothes and blankets. Eventually I found it, tucked under the corner of my bed and, at the sound of a horn outside, stuffed it in my bag and took off down the stairs. Snagging my jacket as I left, I gave a half wave to my mom and emerged into the downpour.
Through the sheets of liquid, I had trudged down my driveway and hopped onto the bus with a mumbled, "hello," to Gary, the driver. The ride was long and boring, as usual, but I could feel a different crackle in the air. I just couldn't put my finger on what it was. With a sudden jerk, I was pulled from my thoughts and sighed when the bus pulled into the school's driveway. Standing quickly as it stopped, I followed the other students off all the while wondering what the day would hold.
In retrospect, I realize that my intended readers won't know who I am. My name is Grant Karlson. I live in a small town, small enough that I have to go an hour out of the way to go to school. I've spent most of my life here, growing up wandering the woods behind my house. I guess I'm of average height and build, being just less than six feet. I have red hair, which now that I think about it, probably contributes to my standing out from the main "friend circles" at my school. As a matter of fact, I don't even just stand out; if that was all it was I'd be happy with my lot in life. I guess you could call me the normal kid. The one that doesn't really make an impression. But I have a secret. One that is potentially deadly.
I'm one of the last Jedi.
