Hey everyone :D
Thank you all so much for the reviews and favourites, I really wasn't expecting much with this story but apparently people are interested.
Oh, and I seem to have this paranoia thing about editing, so again I apologise for mistakes.
So here's the second chapter, I hope you all enjoy :)
Also just to clear something up, I may have implied that Carlos' mother had died or something in the first chapter, well thats not the case, something terrible did happen to her but that'll come up in a later chapter.
Chapter Two
"Mum?"
Sylvia Garcia turned to look at her son from her place at the stove, chequered red and white apron hanging loosely from around her neck, "yes, Carlos?"
Carlos shifted in his seat, clearing his throat. He was completely unsure about how to ask the question.
"Well I was just wondering if maybe you could give me some advice?" The boy sounded conflicted, staring down at his hands.
With a smile Carlos' mother turned the stove off, coming to take a seat next to her son, "advice for what?" she asked.
"Its just that I was wondering if you knew how to go about trying to help someone with a problem, a really big and personal problem if you've never spoken to them before?"
Sylvia quirked an eyebrow at the queer sounding inquiry, but decided not to question why her son was asking it.
"Well Carlos" she began, taking his hands in her own, "its an odd question but it sounds like to me that you need to get to know this person better if you want to help them with something personal, as they won't just let a stranger in. I think the best way to approach it would be to get into this person's life, befriend them, let them trust you before you even try to broach whatever it is that's the problem. Does that help?"
Carlos grinned and nodded enthusiastically, squeezing his mother's hands, "That's mum, I don't know what I'd do without you."
"Neither do I" Sylvia answered, shaking her head, "now go get a plate, the pancakes are getting cold."
Class wasn't due to start in another twenty minutes and before Carlos realised what he was doing he found himself in the quietest corner of the library, a notepad open before him, the words 'HELP LOGAN INPROVE HIS LIFE' scrawled across the top of the page. With a blush he quickly crossed out and rewrote the word 'improve' realising he'd spelt it wrong.
Carlos tapped the pen furiously against the side of his head, desperate for his brain to think up some brilliantly ingenious plan. He sat like that for a good five minutes, his brain refusing to comply, thoughts straying back to how wonderful Logan's eyes were…
Carlos shook his head, trying to push those thoughts back.
"Carlos?" Carlos' head shot up, heaving a sigh of relief when he saw Camille standing before him, eyes questioning.
"Carlos what are you doing here?" she asked in a harsh whisper.
"What do you mean?" Carlos asked, gnawing on the end of his pen lid.
"Carlos in all the years I've known you I've never once seen you enter the library. Did you even know we had a library?"
Carlos shot her a look, "of course I knew we had a library," he said defensively, "I just needed to be somewhere quite."
"What are you doing that could possibly require so much of your attention?" she asked, taking a seat across from him. Carlos poked out his tongue at her, causing her to glare playfully at him.
"Well if you must know" he began, trying his best to sound dignified, "I'm making a plan."
"Oh a plan!" Camille's eyes lit up at the word, the latent acting skill she reserved for drama club suddenly bursting into life. "I like plans."
"I'm making a plan to help someone I don't know. I'm stuck for ideas, do you have any?"
Camille smiled sweetly. "Why dear Carlos, you don't even have to ask, I always have ideas. You simply need to find a reason to hang out with said person, so you can help them with whatever the problem is; easy."
Carlos threw his hands up in the air, grinning maniacally. "Camille, you're amazing!"
"I know she replied," leaning back in her chair with a smug smile.
Carlos brought pen to paper, only one idea coming to mind.
Fail Math.
Flashing another grin to Camille, Carlos collected up his notebook and sped away, thankful, for the first time in his life he had a math test today. Before he could get too far Camille stated, "it's Logan Mitchell isn't it?"
Carlos froze. "What?" Despite his best efforts, a blush began to creep up Carlos' neck.
"The person you want to help out, its Logan Mitchell isn't it?"
"How could you possibly know that?" asked Carlos, dumbfounded, the blush deepening; he couldn't help it, the brunette's name bringing butterflies to his stomach.
"I'm in the drama club dear Carlos, I always know, its my job to know" she said with a wink.
For the Mitchell household breakfast was quite. Mr Mitchell sat at the table, nose buried deep in a newspaper, a steaming cup of coffee, flat white double shot sitting before him. Logan's mother leant against the kitchen counter, sipping on a long glass of spirulina juice, which she claimed had a multitude of benefits; Logan didn't touch the exotic looking concoction, preferring to stick with the carton of mundane orange juice that sat in the fridge.
The boy in question strode into the kitchen, keeping his eyes downcast, throwing a slice of bread into the toaster and pulling the orange juice from the fridge, grabbing a glass from a cupboard above his head Logan went to pour the juice, watching as the deep orange liquid flooded into the glass. Filling it to the brim Logan placed the carton back in the fridge, left to wait for his bread to toast.
The atmosphere quickly grew tense with each passing moment Logan occupied the space with his parents; his mother flicking him occasional glances, his father too engrossed in his newspaper to spare a look at either of them. After several painstaking moments the toast finally popped, signalling that it was finished cooking. Collecting it from the toaster Logan went to take a bite, completely forgetting about the glass of vibrantly coloured liquid by his elbow, mind focused on the events of the previous day, Carlos' look of horrified surprise and the ominous words of the text message imprinted into his mind.
It was already to late.
Logan watched in mute horror as the glass rushed to meet the ceramic floor, its contents arching out into the open air.
Within moments it was all over.
With a deafening crunch the glass shattered on the floor, shards flying and ricocheting in every direction, the juice pooling upon the tiles. His mother simply glanced at the mess on the floor, not so much as a stern word or a scolding. She relied on his father for that. Dread filled Logan as he heard chair legs scraping against the floor; he took several steps back, putting as much distance between himself and his father as possible.
"What's this?" his father seethed, standing in front of the mess Logan had caused. Logan just shook his head, not trusting his voice enough to speak.
"You answer me when I ask you a question!"
"I-I just, i-i-it was just an accident…"
Just as Logan went to make his escape his father had materialised before him, grabbing the boy by the scruff of his shirt. Before Logan could protest his father's free hand made a sharp crack across his cheek.
Crack.
Tears began to collect in the corners of Logan's eyes, dazed by the surge of pain that had accompanied the slap. Without another word Logan's father dropped Logan, taking a seat at the table and picking up his newspaper again, as if nothing ever happened. Holding his hand against the burning pain that had blossomed in his cheek, Logan looked between his parents, his mother completely indifferent, his father acting like he hadn't even left his seat. A single tear broke free, leaving a glistening trail as it ran its way down Logan's cheek. He backed up, rushed out of the kitchen, grabbed his bag from the bottom of the stairwell and barrelled out the front door, into the cool, morning air.
Logan dwelled on the events of the morning as he walked to school, rubbing his cheek. The sharp stinging sensation had faded but the emotional pain was still raw. Logan knew he should be used to it, it wasn't the first and wouldn't be the last. The boy sighed as he walked along and stared up into the clear periwinkle blue sky, the sun's vibrant rays beating down against the houses, roads and sidewalks. Cars rushed past him as he trudged along and for a spilt moment a single thought managed to gnaw its way into the forefront of his mind.
I wonder if anyone would miss me if I threw myself in front of one of those cars.
Although it only lasted a moment Logan had to stop walking, taking in deep breathes. He'd had the thoughts before, and they did always lurk in the darker recesses of his mind but when they pushed their way to the front, to become the only thing he could think about, even if it was only momentary; it scared him. It shook him down to the bone. It scared him because for those spilt seconds his thoughts were completely serious. It shook him down to the bone, because Logan knew, that if his frame of mind was right; he wouldn't think twice about doing it.
Logan Mitchell didn't have much, if anything to live for, and for that he pitied himself.
Carlos wouldn't say he stole it, but he knew he wouldn't be able to give it back. He justified that the art department wouldn't miss a piece of A3 paper anyway, its not like they ever did inventories; well he hoped they didn't…
"Okay, let's get down to business." Stated Camille, pulling a black marker out of her pencil case. Camille had dragged Carlos into an empty classroom; they still had ten minutes to spare.
"You said you had a maths test today, correct?" Camille asked, putting on her best business-like tone. Carlos nodded furiously, smiling all the while.
"Wait, before we go any further I'd just like to ask, how'd you get into Logan Mitchell's math class anyway? Isn't that the most advanced class?"
Carlos simply shrugged. He'd had no idea how he'd got in either; he'd only managed to pass this year because, Jordan Sanders, the boy that sat next to him in class, had ridiculously large handwriting.
Camille shook her head at him, bending door to write 'test' in large letters in the middle of the sheet.
"Right, well, you suggested that you fail this test right?"
"Right" Carlos nodded in confirmation.
"Okay, well how do you know that the teacher will demand you receive tutoring?" Camille asked, pointing out the obvious flaw in the plan.
"Well I figure she will because finals are coming up pretty soon and…" Carlos trailed off, not exactly sure what else to say, but apparently that was enough for the dark haired girl.
"Carlos for all your shortcomings sometimes you can be incredibly smart."
Carlos smiled widely, but it quickly faltered, "wait, shortcomings?"
Camille waved it off, "not important, what is important is that we finalise this plan."
Carlos nodded, face turning serious again, "okay well after I fail the test, Mrs Martin will demand I get last minute tutoring because of finals and because Logan is the smartest I'll suggest for him to tutor me and then, next thing you know, I'll have a reason to hang out with Logan!"
Camille nodded in approval, drawing out a flowchart, "this is good, I like this" she said, taking a step back from her work.
Carlos tilted his head to the side, trying to make sense of the scrawled words and arrows, "was the flowchart really necessary?"
"No" answered Camille with a smile, "but I like the dramatic effect that it provides."
Carlos grinned; he couldn't help but agree.
So what does everyone think? Was it any good?
Anyways, if anyone would like to provide more advice I'd be grateful, I'd like to know what's working and what isn't.
I hope to have the next chapter up by Monday, maybe a little earlier, I'll see how I go for time. :)