"Aston Huxley?"

I raised my hand minimalistically. Is that even a word?

"Aston Huxley?" the sub called out again. Then came a snort from the back row of the school bus.

"Emo boy don't talk, Mrs. C.," Thomas Eden called out and his phrase was met with a round of guffaws from his 'bros'.

"But apparently the village idiot does," another voice piped up from the front of the bus. That was Ava Theorem.

"Aww, looks like emo boy's got himself a crush, how cute," Tom remarked. I just closed my eyes and leaned my head back against the window while trying to un-stick my arm from the seat covering. It was the end-of-the-year field day in eighth grade. You may be wondering why I'm thirteen and in eighth grade, well, my birthday's in December, and my parents decided to enroll me earlier than later. Wait, make that my dad. I love him and all, but he just doesn't have the whole single parent thing down.

"Are you Aston Huxley?" the voice was right in front of me. I opened my eyes just a crack, saw the young sub there, and nodded. "Thank you, Mr. Huxley."

With a lurch, the bus started, speeding into the last day of school. We were going to some museum about boats and such- it had actually sounded interesting, but as soon as we got there, I got the feeling it was going to be a total fail. Why? The museum was a long low grey building with a middle aged security guard standing in front of what appeared to be ancient doors.

"Charlie! Hey, Charlie!" Our heads whipped around to a strange sight.

The road the museum was on was a very typically suburban one: with many smaller dead ends leading off the sides. Around one of those corners came bounding a large black lab, followed by a sprinting blond boy in just shorts- my guesses were that either he was late, already on break, or late but his dog had woken him up.

"Charlie you stupid hellhound, get back here!" he shouted and the dog threw up its head and howled, almost as if it were laughing, but just kept running. The boy put his head down and started running faster. Even though it was only eight or so in the morning, the sun was already glaring down, and a sheet of sweat covered the boy's back.

Right around then I noticed that the dog was running straight at me. Now I didn't get scared because of dog hair- black hair on black clothes rarely showed, but when it had howled/laughed, those teeth were not something I wanted to come in contact with.

"Aston, watch out!" I heard Ava shout from behind me, but in the second I turned around, the dog leapt. I fell down, my head making a sick thudding noise on the pavement, and I could feel cool liquid spreading at the back of my head. The dog opened its mouth, and I was sure I was going to die, but then, and you'll never guess this, it started licking my face!

By that time I could hear kids screaming and someone calling an ambulance, and the boy had gotten there.

"Bad Charlie, very bad Charlie, get off him ya stupid hound! Just wait till I get in touch with Percy and Nico! Oh don't look at me with those eyes, you know it stopped working when you reached past my shins."

The weight of the dog was lifted off me and I was pulled up by someone. The world spun around me as I tried to stand straight, and everything seemed blurry. A sudden weight under my shoulders told me someone was there, supporting me. I closed my eyes, as a strange sense of coldness tingled down my back. Then I noticed that it was actually someone touching the back of my head.

"It doesn't look good. Here, I have some supplies in my house, I'll quickly get them. Uh… if you can, have him sit down somewhere and get him a soda." I recognized that to be the boy whose dog had run me over and tackled me in a bear- sorry- a dog hug.

The weight under my shoulders left and was replaced with a steadier one, one that started walking me towards a blurry red thing, which turned out to be a bench. I was sat down, and voices swam around me, though it was getting harder and harder to separate them. I think somewhere in the background, Ava and Tom were arguing, Mrs. Carter (the sub) was talking to the bus driver, and then there was a panting, right behind me.

Something cold and wet found my neck and had I been in any condition to jump up and shout, I found my senses numbing. Damn, I really must have hit my head. Somehow, I managed to swing my arm around, and my hand passed over the smooth head of a dog. The dog. Charlie.

"Hey Charlie," I muttered, though I presumed it sounded more like "he-ey sharlie". I got a small bark in return. "Please don't do that again." In a brief moment of clearness, I saw Charlie put down his (hers?) ears and make that puppy-dog-face that little kids always make. Did Charlie really understand me? Then my vision blurred again as a tree in the background started zooming round and round my vision.

I closed my eyes yet again, willing it all to go away. Sadly, it didn't. After what could have either been hours or seconds, I heard Charlie's owner's voice again. Something was being done to the back of my head, and by then, I could hear clearly again. Ava, I think, had ended up punching Tom in the face. The bus driver had gone back to the bus, where the AC was on. I think the majority of my class had followed him. Mrs. C and Charlie's owner sat on either side of me, taking care of the back of my head. Somewhere, ambulance sirens were getting louder.

"So, uh, I'm guessing I'm pretty screwed, aren't I?" Charlie's owner said nervously. Damn, I really need a name for him.

"Don't worry, Cord, there's a strong Mist around Charlie. The kids just think that Aston tripped and hit his head on the bus, then your dog came up and started licking him. Well, all believe that but Ava. I think she was here to get Aston."

"Are you-"

"A clear sighted, my dear."

"Oh."

What the hell are they talking about, I asked myself in my mind. The sirens were almost there, and by the time that I was being taken care of (and I guess Tom was also being taken care of) and I could think a little more clearly, I realized two things: one, everyone thought something else had happened than had actually happened, and two, Charlie's owner's name was Cord.

.

.

.

"Aston! Oh, Aston, I'm so happy you're alright," my dad smiled as he enveloped me in a bear hug. In the end, they had to give me stitches on my top vertebrae, wherever or whatever that was, and they easily patched up my head. They had also said the reason my vertebrae was damaged was because I was somewhat malnourished and it was sticking out.

I really have no clue what all that meant, I just went along with it. I had some minor scrapes and cuts on my elbows and legs, but nothing bad.

"'M fine, dad," I responded, but hugged back anyways. Right around then I noticed the two figures standing at my car. Actually, there were three: two humans and a large dog. The boy, Cord, I figured, had put on a shirt since I last saw him. He had long blond hair, light eyes, and was wearing a Green Day t shirt over his shorts, and flip flops. He was talking to Ava, but both of them stopped when they noticed me looking at them.

My dad must have noticed too, for he began walking me towards them.

"Who are you two?"

"Well, I'm Ava, one of Aston's classmates, and-"

"I'm so sorry my hellhound ran over your son, sir!" Cord exclaimed but immediately his hand (and Ava's) shot over his mouth, as if he had said something he shouldn't have said. I looked to my dad only to see his look darken as his face paled.

"So you're part of them, are you? Get lost, I don't want you anywhere near my son! And never think of coming back!"

Three words: What. The. Hell?

Ava and Cord opened their mouths to respond, but Charlie (the dog) nudged them, and they seemed to decide it better to have me wonder what the heck was going on in my life. However, as I looked questioningly up at my dad, I found his expression sad, like he had just had to do something he really didn't want to. I thought it best not to pry even though I was dying for answers.

"Let's go home, son."

Once we were home, my dad sent me to my room, saying he'd order out pizza (he already knew my favorite: small custom pizza with bacon and onions) and telling me to go to my room and relax. I headed up the three sets of stairs (I lived in the attic) with some difficulty- pain shooting up my spine every now and then. Dad had said he'd bring up the pain killers.

The sun was setting behind the field that belonged to Ivory Hill, the riding stables down the road. Two or three horses were out, grazing, as if there was not a care in the world. I slowly spun around from the window, only to be greeted with my own reflection from the mirror on the back of my door. I looked pale, especially in contrast with my darkening room. My dark hair and light eyes didn't really help with that either, and neither did my dark brown t shirt and black shorts.

Right around then I noticed how long my hair really was- hanging into my eyes and slightly past the base of my neck. No wonder Tom and his crew called me 'emo-boy'.

"Aston? May I come in?" my dad knocked on the door. I shouted a 'yes' in reply and headed over to the dark red beanbag chair in the corner. Just as I was about to sit down into absolute coziness, my dad of course had to ruin it. "Don't sit there! It would be bad for your back. Go sit on the couch. I'll get you some extra pillows." I sighed and walked over to the tiny pull-out couch, plunking my butt down. My dad flinched as if he felt the pain that shot up my spine yet again but said nothing.

"Do you want to tell me what happened?" he asked whilst handing me three slices of pizza on a plate. I shrugged.

"Didn't the ambulance tell you?"

"Yes, they told me a rather odd story that involved you tripping backwards into the bus and a large dog straddling you."

I snorted, trying to imagine what that must have looked like.

"Is it true, son?"

I looked up into his eyes, and in that moment, however chees y this sounds, I knew we had a mutual understanding. Something strange had happened that day, whether we admitted it or not. Dad nodded.

"Okay. Get some rest, Aston. Pack your things for the summer- we're visiting your aunt Gladys in Alaska. Good night."

"What? No, dad, you can't-" I started, but my dad had already left the room. Seriously? Alaska? The end of the world? No, that couldn't be right! Dad knew I hated Alaska and Aunt Gladys (she held a grudge against me for being my mother's- whoever she was- son). My shoulders slumped, and I knew I was seriously depressed when my pizza didn't even look appetizing anymore.

Alaska, probably for three months. A sense of insecurity came over me, and it wasn't the mental type of insecurity, it was like I was actually scared for my life at the thought of Alaska.

Thoughts? This is a little side project I'll be updating every now and then, when I'm inspirationless for The Chaos Experiment -_-

Review please! Review! Review! Did I mention REVIEW?