As you can probably see, I'm not a member of the Vic fan club. :D
Here's Chapter 2! Please read and review!
[Disclaimer] I own only James and Lila (You'll see who they are). I do not own any of the other characters in this story. I do not own 7 Eleven.
Oh my goodness. Is the kid dead? It sure is cold out here. Is shaking him the right thing to do? Well, kid, wake up!
"Yeah, I'm OK... Who are you?" the kid responded. I stared at him. He stared back. I didn't blink. He didn't blink. I think I can see tears welling up in his eyes. I don't think he can take it anymore. Than he blinked. "Aww..man! I was going to win that one!" he said, laughing. I chuckled, but it was fake. Who does this kid think he is? Who is this kid, anyway?
"Here, let's sit down. So, kid, what're you doin' out here in the cold and rain?" I asked. I kind of felt bad for the kid. I don't know why; I don't know anything about him.
"Well, I ran away from home a while ago, and this was where I finally stopped. Do you know what time it is? I want to know how long it's been since I left home. Home. Where is my home? Where am I?" He said, almost all at once. I couldn't understand him.
"Woah! Slow down! Old men can't go as fast as you children do. So, wait, you ran away from home..." I began, but decided not to say anything else.
"Alright, I ran away from home because I'm very angry with my mother. You see, she told my father I would go live with him in San Francisco, but I don't want to! Besides, without even thinking she said I would be happy to leave my home and friends and my mom to go live with my Dad. But I won't! No one can make me! Where are we? What time is it?"
"Well, we're in a town called Vickery-" I began, but was interrupted by the kid.
"You're kidding, right?" he said in disbelief. Now I'm confused.
"No, I'm not kidding... Anyway, it has to be some time after 4 AM. I hate to change the subject, but what's your name, kid?" This kid can't have been out here for that long. He'd be sick by now.
"It's Peter. Wow, 4 AM... I don't know what to say. My mom is probably worried sick!" Peter said. Before I knew it, he began to cry.
"Hold it, Peter, don't cry. Now, I'm not too good with this kid stuff, so bear with me. Now, what time did you leave your house?" I said, not knowing what else to say.
"I left my house at approximately 5 o' clock yesterday. Then I ran for, umm, I don't know how long. Then I found this park and this gazebo, and I guess I fell asleep," he replied. He had stopped crying by now.
"Wow, that was a long time ago," I said. What should I say? What should I say? "Well, where do you live? I can tell you how far you've run."
"I live in Glen Oak. Is that far?" He sounded really worried. His eyes had a sad look to them. Was it because his mother was probably worried about him?
Glen Oak? He can't live in Glen Oak! That's too far away for a boy like him to run from. He must be lying. "Is that far?" I asked, making sure that's the question he asked. He nodded. "Well, kind of. Now, Peter, it's too cold for you and me, especially you, to be out here. Would you like to accompany me to where I call home?"
Peter sat there and stared into space. "Well, I've already been talking to a stranger for this long," he began, sounding very nervous, "So I guess it doesn't really matter if I go home with him. Lead the way." So we both got up and I lead the way, out of the gazebo and through the wet grass.
So much has happened in the past day. First my Mom tells me I have to go live with my Dad in San Francisco, then I run away from home, and now I'm walking through an unfamiliar town on my way to a stranger's house. Didn't they teach you not to talk to strangers in Kindergarten? It didn't matter anymore. I don't care if I'm kidnapped. Nothing mattered anymore.
I wonder how my Mom is. Wait, why do I care? A little voice inside my head is telling me that I care because I love my mother, but how can I after what she just did to me? The little voice also told me to find a phone and call home and have my Mom get me
"You're awfully quiet, kid. You thinkin'?" the man asked, staring at the ground. He hadn't looked at me once since we left the park.
"Yeah, I am. Do you know how to shut up the little voice inside your head? Is what it says always true?" I asked. "Because I don't like what this voice has to say."
"Yeah, it's pretty much always true. Sure, you should do what it says, but it can be hard. What's it sayin'?" he replied. He actually cared, I think.
"It's saying I should find a pay phone and call my Mom to let her know that I'm OK and have her come get me. It's also saying that living with my Dad won't be so bad, and that I'll make new friends."
"Do you want to know what I think?" he asked. Did I want to know? I think I already know what he's going to say. He's going to say 'Why are you putting your mother through this? She thought you'd be happy! You should go home. Everything will be alright in San Francisco. You'll make new friends.'
"I guess so. You're more experienced in life than I am," I said without enthusiasm.
"Alright then," he began. "I think you should listen to the little voice. Your poor mother! Why are you putting her through this? She thought you'd be happy! You should go home. Everything will be alright in San Francisco. You'll make new friends."
"Oh, come on! You don't really think that, right? You're just repeating what I just told you! Now, are we almost there? I need a change of clothes," I said. I was not happy at this point.
"Hey, be happy, will ya? We're here! This is the place I like to call home," he said, his arms opened wide.
"This isn't a house! This isn't even an apartment! This is a-a homeless shelter! You live here?" I yelled. I thought he meant a home, like a house, you know.
"Hey, Peter, this is what I have! This is all I have, and I'm sharing it with you!" he shouted at me. Now I'm noticing that this guy is pretty big. "Now, take it or leave it, kid. If you choose to leave it, I think there's a phone in that there 7 Eleven. Now, what do you want to do?"
What should I do? This wasn't what I expected. If I go in, I'll be able to eat and have clean and dry clothes, and be warm and for the most part, safe. If I don't, I can either go call my Mom, and let her know that I'm alright, or I can live on the streets eating ABC gum.
"Lead the way," I said, and I followed him into a large gray building.
[Disclaimer] I own only James and Lila (You'll see who they are). I do not own any of the other characters in this story. I do not own 7 Eleven.
Oh my goodness. Is the kid dead? It sure is cold out here. Is shaking him the right thing to do? Well, kid, wake up!
"Yeah, I'm OK... Who are you?" the kid responded. I stared at him. He stared back. I didn't blink. He didn't blink. I think I can see tears welling up in his eyes. I don't think he can take it anymore. Than he blinked. "Aww..man! I was going to win that one!" he said, laughing. I chuckled, but it was fake. Who does this kid think he is? Who is this kid, anyway?
"Here, let's sit down. So, kid, what're you doin' out here in the cold and rain?" I asked. I kind of felt bad for the kid. I don't know why; I don't know anything about him.
"Well, I ran away from home a while ago, and this was where I finally stopped. Do you know what time it is? I want to know how long it's been since I left home. Home. Where is my home? Where am I?" He said, almost all at once. I couldn't understand him.
"Woah! Slow down! Old men can't go as fast as you children do. So, wait, you ran away from home..." I began, but decided not to say anything else.
"Alright, I ran away from home because I'm very angry with my mother. You see, she told my father I would go live with him in San Francisco, but I don't want to! Besides, without even thinking she said I would be happy to leave my home and friends and my mom to go live with my Dad. But I won't! No one can make me! Where are we? What time is it?"
"Well, we're in a town called Vickery-" I began, but was interrupted by the kid.
"You're kidding, right?" he said in disbelief. Now I'm confused.
"No, I'm not kidding... Anyway, it has to be some time after 4 AM. I hate to change the subject, but what's your name, kid?" This kid can't have been out here for that long. He'd be sick by now.
"It's Peter. Wow, 4 AM... I don't know what to say. My mom is probably worried sick!" Peter said. Before I knew it, he began to cry.
"Hold it, Peter, don't cry. Now, I'm not too good with this kid stuff, so bear with me. Now, what time did you leave your house?" I said, not knowing what else to say.
"I left my house at approximately 5 o' clock yesterday. Then I ran for, umm, I don't know how long. Then I found this park and this gazebo, and I guess I fell asleep," he replied. He had stopped crying by now.
"Wow, that was a long time ago," I said. What should I say? What should I say? "Well, where do you live? I can tell you how far you've run."
"I live in Glen Oak. Is that far?" He sounded really worried. His eyes had a sad look to them. Was it because his mother was probably worried about him?
Glen Oak? He can't live in Glen Oak! That's too far away for a boy like him to run from. He must be lying. "Is that far?" I asked, making sure that's the question he asked. He nodded. "Well, kind of. Now, Peter, it's too cold for you and me, especially you, to be out here. Would you like to accompany me to where I call home?"
Peter sat there and stared into space. "Well, I've already been talking to a stranger for this long," he began, sounding very nervous, "So I guess it doesn't really matter if I go home with him. Lead the way." So we both got up and I lead the way, out of the gazebo and through the wet grass.
So much has happened in the past day. First my Mom tells me I have to go live with my Dad in San Francisco, then I run away from home, and now I'm walking through an unfamiliar town on my way to a stranger's house. Didn't they teach you not to talk to strangers in Kindergarten? It didn't matter anymore. I don't care if I'm kidnapped. Nothing mattered anymore.
I wonder how my Mom is. Wait, why do I care? A little voice inside my head is telling me that I care because I love my mother, but how can I after what she just did to me? The little voice also told me to find a phone and call home and have my Mom get me
"You're awfully quiet, kid. You thinkin'?" the man asked, staring at the ground. He hadn't looked at me once since we left the park.
"Yeah, I am. Do you know how to shut up the little voice inside your head? Is what it says always true?" I asked. "Because I don't like what this voice has to say."
"Yeah, it's pretty much always true. Sure, you should do what it says, but it can be hard. What's it sayin'?" he replied. He actually cared, I think.
"It's saying I should find a pay phone and call my Mom to let her know that I'm OK and have her come get me. It's also saying that living with my Dad won't be so bad, and that I'll make new friends."
"Do you want to know what I think?" he asked. Did I want to know? I think I already know what he's going to say. He's going to say 'Why are you putting your mother through this? She thought you'd be happy! You should go home. Everything will be alright in San Francisco. You'll make new friends.'
"I guess so. You're more experienced in life than I am," I said without enthusiasm.
"Alright then," he began. "I think you should listen to the little voice. Your poor mother! Why are you putting her through this? She thought you'd be happy! You should go home. Everything will be alright in San Francisco. You'll make new friends."
"Oh, come on! You don't really think that, right? You're just repeating what I just told you! Now, are we almost there? I need a change of clothes," I said. I was not happy at this point.
"Hey, be happy, will ya? We're here! This is the place I like to call home," he said, his arms opened wide.
"This isn't a house! This isn't even an apartment! This is a-a homeless shelter! You live here?" I yelled. I thought he meant a home, like a house, you know.
"Hey, Peter, this is what I have! This is all I have, and I'm sharing it with you!" he shouted at me. Now I'm noticing that this guy is pretty big. "Now, take it or leave it, kid. If you choose to leave it, I think there's a phone in that there 7 Eleven. Now, what do you want to do?"
What should I do? This wasn't what I expected. If I go in, I'll be able to eat and have clean and dry clothes, and be warm and for the most part, safe. If I don't, I can either go call my Mom, and let her know that I'm alright, or I can live on the streets eating ABC gum.
"Lead the way," I said, and I followed him into a large gray building.
