Calm Before The Storm
Chapter One: Blizzard
I hate moving. It is just about the worst thing my parents can ever do to me. They can take my phone, they can take my iPod, and they can take my right to go hang out on Friday nights, but goddamit why do they have to take me out of the one fucking house I've ever lived in. And to move to some redneck hillbilly town out in the middle of nowhere that probably isn't even on Google Maps, they just really want me to kill myself don't they. I question Mom of her motives as we drive through the beginnings of a blizzard up through the mountains of Colorado.
"Why are we moving?" I ask angrily, shoving some of the boxes of shit over to my sister's side of the car. She shoves them back and flips me off. Little bitch.
"Craig, if you ask that one more time I swear I will give you the basement for your room," My mom snaps, giving me the bird from the front seat. I flip my finger back at her and roll my eyes. It's true, I've asked about seven times in the past hour, but can you blame me? I have been unfairly uprooted! It doesn't help that we've packed as much shit in our car as possible so that Dad could rent a smaller truck to drive. Yeah Dad, paying 25 dollars extra for a larger one would be a terrible injustice I'm sure.
The storm is getting worse. Mom's got the radio turned up loud, because we can't hear with all the hail pounding our car. The host is going on about how this is going to be 'the worst blizzard in years'. Go figure, the day we decide to move has to be the day a shitload of snow gets dumped in the mountains. "Fuck," I groan, resting my head against the ice cold window.
Mom glares at me through the tiny rectangular mirror. "Language Craig," she warns me.
"Que voulez-vous me parler François?" I reply curtly. I took French last year in 9th grade. This has proved to be an advantage in confusing my parents and making them bitchier than they already are. The snow is falling harder now, and we're slowly trudging up the last two miles until we hit the town. Mom is too stressed and tired to give me the finger or cuss me out for being rude. I'm too tired to care.
When mom finally announces that we're here, I can't see a damn thing. I think it's partly because of all the snow, and partly because the town is so small. The crappy wooden sign we pass as we enter says: South Park Population: 361. I try not to cry.
The sign hanging from the streetlight that says Main Street does not lie. South Park has one, long street, dedicated to cheesy stores and mini-malls. Oh and of course they have a nice, big Wal-Mart at the end of the road. Where's a Target when you need one? There are three smaller streets that run off the main, Mom turns down the second. It's pretty much a replica of Main Street, but instead of tiny stores, there are just tiny houses. They all look the same, in different shades of disgusting colors. One house is yellow. Mom pulls into the tiny driveway of our new, tiny blue house.
I step out of the cramped car, and relish the open air, even if it is about -2 degrees. Mom starts to unload things out of the car and yells at Ruby to go unlock the front door. I stand outside and stare at the storm of white for a bit. All of the sudden, something catches my eyes. This kid, I swear to God, was sitting on his porch next door, in a flimsy little button up shirt (which wasn't even buttoned correctly I might add) in the midst of this storm. Now I would normally leave this guy alone, but I'm freezing my ass off and I'm wearing like, two jackets. There is something up here.
Checking to make sure Mom isn't watching, I walk over to this kid. He jumps, screaming at me for no fucking reason. I resist the urge to punch him. "What the hell dude," I yell, trying to be heard over his screaming. He stops flailing and looks up at my trough his bangs. He's got bleach blonde hair that sticks up everywhere and his eyes are like, lime green or something. Like, not a normal green eye color. It's weird. He doesn't talk, just shivers and twitches and sputters while I watch him. It's kind of pissing me off, so I speak. "What are you doing out here?" He blinks.
"Uh, rrgh, I- AUGH I was l-locked out of my h-house," He says, stuttering. I roll my eyes and look over at my new house. Dad just got in with the moving van, and it looks like they've got most of our stuff in already. Maybe I can sneak in without them noticing.
"Alright, come on," I say, motioning for him to follow me.
Cliffhanger bitches :D
Hope you like it so far.
