I lied.
Not on purpose though! I really meant not to work on this at all until after my test, but I am awful at resisting when inspiration strikes.
So here I am at thirty minutes past midnight, updating.
For some reason, I regret nothing.
Review replies:
Guest - Thank you. Thank you for the advice, and thank you for inspiring me to write this chapter as well as I possibly could. I dedicate this chapter to you.
The summer sun baked the asphalt streets of New Orleans, but four-year-old Leo Valdez was barely affected by the heat. Giggling, he ran ahead of his mother; his small size enabled him to dart effortlessly between passerby.
"Careful mijo!" She was laughing behind him. "Don't get too far ahead."
He craned his head back and grinned at her, then darted off into a shadowy side street.
And abruptly stopped.
Looming before him was an old building behind a cruel-looking iron gate. The building was dilapidated; windows boarded up, roof caving in, the works. The trees in the small front yard were covered in Spanish moss, looking to Leo like dollops of ghostly slime had been deposited on them.
Leo took a step back from it, breathing heavily from his run.
Someone caught him around the middle. He squealed in terror before realising it was his mother.
He smiled sheepishly at her.
"Oh, Leo. What am I going to do with you," she said affectionately as she lifted him up and carried him back towards the main street.
Looking back over her shoulder, Leo could see a wooden sign on the iron gate. The paint was cracked and flaking, but still legible.
It was one of those vacations that Leo would remember only as a sunny, happy time he had spent with his mother. He would not remember the shadows of the side street, the creepy building, or the sign that said
St. Agnes Academy for Colored Children and Indians.
Ok, now there really will be no more updates until Monday.
The next prompt is "Growing Up."