So hi. I'm back. Not a single review. Also, much stuff in the chapter. See you at the bottom. I do not own Smosh, if you didn't realize.
Chapter 2 - Ian
"So how was school?" my mom asked.
"Eh, just the usual," I shrugged. "Anthony zoning out every now and again, no tests, BUT," I continued "according to Mrs. L., there's a trial coming up in the next few weeks, our first life or death one." Mom gasped, and then her face set in determination. "Okay then. We" she said, gesturing to me and her "are going shopping." I balked and replied "Mom. Now is not the time to go shopping." She just dragged me to the car. She eased us into the streets and floored the gas, sending us flying towards the Outlet. The Outlet was an over-sized mall, pretty much.
She dragged me into the mall and asked – more like forced – a clerk to give us directions to "Backpackers Place", whatever that was. She wove her way skillfully through the crowded Outlet, until we reached a small store, dedicated to luggage and all sorts of survivalist shit. The store unsurprisingly had only a few customers, murmuring quietly and inspecting various goods. My mom pulled me to a bunch of luggage, shuffled through the bags and held up two bags, one big, and one about the size of my torso. "Which one?" she asked briskly. I pointed to the smaller of the two, and she smiled. "Good choice." She quickly did some mind-palace-type stuff (that's what she told me she was doing anyway), moving her hands as though trying to use some weird magic, which I suppose she was kind of doing. "Okay, if you bring rations for about a week or so, then you can fit two outfits, and that's just inner compartments," she said, looking worried. "You'll also want string, and –"
"Why in the world would I want string?" I asked, legitimately baffled. "All sorts of things, like rappelling, securing a path, etcetera." She told me airily; as if this was stuff you did every day. "Now may I continue?" she asked with a smirk. She wasn't asking because she needed my perms; she was asking to be a jerk. And you know what? That's fine by me. Everyone deserves to be a jerk to people every now and then. Mom continued picking out stuff. "Hey Ian!" she called. "Yeah, I'm here mom," I called back. "'Kay, so you want a hunting knife, bludgeon, what?" she asked. "Mom, why will I need this stuff?" I muttered exasperated. "First one I had was finishing this one puzzle, and you were either really lucky, or really good. I was really good, and pretty darn lucky." I sat back, not literally, because in this entire store, there was not a single chair. "I had a" she snapped her fingers "a khopesh, or a sickle of some kind that I found in my starter room. I had brought along makeup. Makeup!" she exclaimed quietly, as though shocked with her own incompetence. "I ended up learning how to jab, pretty basic maneuvers of the sword, and I made it out alive. Chances are that there'll be something that'll attack you in some way, shape, or form." She paused. "Maybe even your friends." She added quietly. I blanched at thinking how Anthony might attack *ahem*, be forced to attack me. "Okay mom." I replied. I quickly assembled a survival pack which was easy to run with, and had all of my supplies. So marked the end of the mall time I was spending today. Thank the deities above! Mom and I went home, and she told my dad, my older sister, who had made the decision to come home this October, and my grandma, Teresa, who looked pale as a sheet when told. Poor Granny nearly had a heart attack when Loren, my older sister, had to go, and very nearly stomped all the way to the government to tell them off. My mom insisted I have the supply pack with me at all times, and that I don't wear floppy clothes, which could get caught on anything, even a corner. Sometimes, my family was nuts.
Despite my mom's happy-go-lucky behavior about this whole thing, she still made me carry the survival pack to school. On top of my regular backpack, which weighed like 5 kilograms (around 11 pounds for those of you not using metric) and the survival pack? It weighed maybe twice that weight, if not more. Not to mention, my uncomfortable school outfit. God, sometimes, I hated my life.
Still, I pressed on and went to school, where already, students were missing. I attributed that to the cold and harsh October weather since only a few were missing. At lunch, I sat with Anthony, who sat with Cassidy, who simply did not care, and talked to her small group of friends. "Do you like her?" I whispered in his ear. He whispered back "Nope, I've got to go throw away my scraps." I let the subject drop and followed him, taking my half-eaten 'edible fork'. I don't know why this is a thing, but some person came up with the idea of "organic, edible utensils", my mom liked it and now here I was, throwing out an edible fork, and heading to recess. At least that wouldn't be boring.
"Hey!" Anthony called.
"Yeah – oof!" I called back, the air forced out of my lungs by a football which Ant had hurled at me. He knew full well that I preferred not to play football. "Please, don't do this!" I yelled at him, my voice dripping with sarcasm. I tossed the football back at him, and of course, he had to catch it like he's been playing all his life. Which he has. Frick. Suddenly, there was a piercing whistle. A school lady glared at us from around 70 meters away. "GET IN!" she yelled urgently. I looked behind me to see a massive storm heading straight towards us, almost sentient. I stood stock still, in awe and fear of the thunder and lightning flashing and illuminating the hurricane-like storm. The lady then screeched "RUN!" snapping me out of my stupor, and I ran. I ran like the Devil of Hell himself was after me.
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