Chapter One
The boy awoke almost instantly, the dream still fresh in his mind. Then he looked around at the dirty, trash-filled alley he was in, and he leaned his back against the wall with a sigh. I guess it was just a dream after all, he mused to himself. He closed his eyes and rested his head back. Still though, it was a good dream.
"Hey, you!" a voice yelled angrily. The boy's violet eyes shot open and he looked a few feet down the alley, toward the beginning. An angry looking cook was shaking his fist at him.
"I thought I told you not to sleep here again!" he yelled, walking toward him. The boy stood up slowly, a small jolt of fear racing down his spine.
"I was just-" he started to explain, putting his gloved hands up as the cook advanced on him.
"You get the hell outta here now, or I'll make you leave!" the cook yelled, standing over him. Silence descended upon the narrow alley as the boy and the cook stared at each other. One pair of eyes fearful yet determined, the other filled with rage.
"I didn't have anywhere else to go," the boy spoke determinedly. "I had no choice."
"Then I guess I'm gonna have to beat the lesson into you," the cook said menacingly. "Something your parents probably never did."
The boy's eyes blazed. "You don't know anything about my parents!" he shouted, pushing the cook. In his rage, he didn't even care that the cook had flown back five feet. He didn't care that the alley had turned a pitch dark in middle of the day. He didn't even care when the creatures emerged and began to circle the cook.
He just wanted him to suffer.
Then his eyes widened. "No." In a flash, the creatures and the darkness disappeared and they were once again in a normal, trash-filled alley.
The boy walked slowly toward the fallen man, who had fallen face down. As he neared, he heard him sobbing into the ground. The boy stopped before him.
"Are…you okay?" he asked hesitantly.
The cook stopped sobbing and looked up. He then turned over and felt himself shockingly. "I-I'm alive?" he asked, wondered.
"Yeah, let me help you up," the boy said, putting a hand out.
The cook's eyes widened and he scooted back. "No! Keep away from me!" he shouted, stumbling to his feet. "Keep away!" He ran out of the alley without so much as a glance back.
Why? The boy looked at the palms of his hands. Why did I do that? I could have killed him. And it would have been all my fault. He shook his head in disbelief before bending down and picking up his stick.
As he walked down the alley toward the street, he made a vow right there to never hurt an innocent person. Even if they were hurting him.
The evening light that hit the boy's face as he emerged from the alley made him shield his eyes. He blinked a couple of times, lowering his arms, and looked down both streets. Where am I going, anyway, he asked himself as he looked around.
No matter how many times he came, Twilight Town would always amaze him. He never failed to get lost in the huge town, and he never knew where to go. The only cool place to visit was the clock tower, but he had been booted out of there a while back by some kid and his friends.
Visit the clock tower now.
The boy frowned to himself. Had he just heard something? Or was it his imagination? He shrugged, deciding to go to check out the clock tower. Why not? He doubted those kids still hung out there.
He walked through the town, glancing up every now and then at the towering building, to make sure he was going the right way. He dragged his stick absently along the way, staring at the ground. Finally, he reached his destination and stopped, gazing up at the tower. He felt as if he would break his back if he looked up anymore. Without another moment, he walked inside.
He put his foot on the first step and looked up, staring at the thousands of stairs before sighing. He began to climb, sliding his hand along the dusty stair rail as he stepped through the darkness. After what seemed like an eternity of walking, he reached the door that led to the balcony and opened it. He walked slowly, taking in a deep breath of fresh air and savoring it sweetly.
Folding his arms, he walked over to the edge of the balcony and looked out over the town. As he watched the people walked to and fro, smile and laugh, he thought to himself. He gazed longingly at them. I wonder what it's like…to be one of them.
"Hi," someone spoke behind him. Startled, the boy whirled around to find another blonde boy of about his same age standing there.
"Hi," he responded uncertainly. If he remembered correctly, this was the same boy that had kicked him out of the clock tower many years before.
"Hey, weren't you that same kid from last time?" the blonde asked, his bright blue eyes filled with curiosity.
The boy looked down, sight embarassment rushing up to his cheeks. "Yeah," he replied, without looking up.
"Well, my name's Thomas," the blonde said, sticking out a hand. "Sorry about kicking you out last time."
The boy looked up and shrugged, feigning nonchalance. "It's okay," he said, shaking the offered hand.
"So what's your name?" the blonde asked, folding his hands behind his head.
The boy looked up quickly before staring back toward the ground. "Dustyn," the boy replied slowly. No one had asked what his name was in a long time. He was amused that he didn't forget it by now.
"Well, nice to meet ya, Dustyn," Thomas said, grinning. He pulled off his white jacket, revealing a black shirt underneath. "If you want to wait, I can introduce you to the rest of the gang."
Dustyn shook his head and began walking towards the stairs. "Um, no thanks. I have to go."
The blonde grabbed his arm. "Are you sure?" he asked, uncertainly. "We were gonna hang out for a while then grab some food."
Dustyn didn't want to tell this boy, this stranger, that he didn't even have money for food. That he was just some street punk that his mother wouldn't want him hanging out with. But then again, he probably knows just from my clothes, the boy mused. He glanced at the boy's nice, white jacket with red interior that he had draped over his shoulder, his black, collared shirt, his black pants with white leggings over them, and his expensive-looking black shoes with red laces. Then he stared at his own clothes. A pair of black boots, black jeans, a black shirt, black gloves, and a black jacket, all of which were faded.
"No," he replied, jerking his arm away. He opened the door, taking a few steps down before being stopped by Thomas' voice.
"How about this then?" the blonde said loudly, his voice echoing a bit in the staircase. "Why don't we duel on it. If I win, you have to stay and meet my friends and come with us to dinner. If you win, your food's on me."
Dustyn smiled to himself, gripping the roughly-made, wooden sword. This was his chance to snag a free meal. "You got yourself a deal."
Thomas grinned before walking back to the balcony. He removed a wooden sword from one of the corners and held it in his hands.
"Then let's go," the blonde cried, darting toward him.
Dustyn recoiled in surprise, but quickly jumped forward, not wanting to be pushed downstairs. The swords crashed together and bounced off from the force of impact.
Faster than Dustyn anticipated, Thomas swung again and Dustyn just barely raised his sword to block the attack.
"C'mon, I know you can do better than that!" the blonde declared, stabbing his sword forward.
Dustyn dodged to the side, narrowly missing the wooden sword. Without hesitation, he swung his sword toward Thomas' shoulder. But he was already in motion. Twisting his torso while in mid-lunge, Dustyn's sword sailed harmlessly over him. The blonde then jumped back, almost getting caught by a returning swipe from Dustyn.
"Almost got you there," Dustyn grinned before jumping toward him. He rose his sword in a overhead swing then, at the last moment, spinned and slashed at Thomas' exposed torso. The blonde, expecting an overhead swing and raising his sword to block, cried out in pain as the stick hit him in the side.
"What's going on?" a soft voice inquired, causing both boys to look toward the door. Standing there was a brown-haired girl of about fifteen. Behind her was another boy with blonde hair and another with black hair. The blonde kid was pretty tall and athletic looking, but the other was short and kind of round.
"We were just sparring," Dustyn said, running a hand through his ebony hair nervously.
"Yeah, now I owe him dinner," Thomas grinned, stretching. "Hey guys, this here is Dustyn. That's Jill, the blonde guy's name is Rad, and the short guy's Moe."
"I'm not that short," the short boy complained. Dustyn smiled.
"Nice to meet you Dustyn," the brunette smiled warmly at him.
"Uh...thanks," Dustyn stuttered, scratching the back of his head.
"So you beat Thomas, huh?" Rad walked up, eyeing him. "You don't look that tough."
Dustyn gripped the wooden sword. "Do you want to find out?" he asked tensely.
Everyone looked to him and Rad put up his hands. "Whoa, easy," he said. "I was only joking around."
"Oh, well..." The boy blushed, embarrassed that he had reacted so strongly. "Sorry." Then suddenly, "I have to go."
"Wait, we had a deal," Thomas said, his eyes worried. "Don't let Rad bother you. He's always kidding around."
"Yeah," Moe chimed in. "He's a regular joke...er."
"Shut up," Rad muttered, pushing him. "I didn't mean it."
"No, it's alright, really," Dustyn stammered. "I have to go. I have somewhere to be. Nice meeting you guys." And with that, he walked as quickly as he could down the stairs and out of the clock tower. He barely made it a few feet before a voice stopped him.
"Hold on!"
The boy turned to find Thomas running toward him. He sighed inwardly. He didn't want to make this as big a scene as it was becoming.
"What?" he asked, when the blonde reached him.
"Come back tomorrow, okay?" Thomas asked, his eyes pleading.
Dustyn frowned. "Why are you being so nice to me?"
The blonde blinked in surprise. "I...don't know. Usually, I don't hound kids like I'm doing right now but..." He shrugged. "I guess I just want you to be my friend."
"Why?" the boy asked, suspicious. "Why me?"
"I don't know, okay?" he replied, throwing up his hands in exasperation. "Are you coming tomorrow or what?"
Dustyn smiled. "Sure. Why not?"
Thomas obviously didn't expect this answer and he looked at him uncertainly. "You promise?"
The boy stared at the blonde as the sky began to darken. Why? No one had ever been this nice to him. Was it true? Did he really want to be friends with him? There was only one way to find out.
"I promise," he said, turning and walking away.