Sta.sh
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 He ran all the way home. If the sight of the attack hadn’t sucked the air out of his lungs, he might have been screaming. He ran all the way up the steps, two at a time - something he’d never been able to do with his short legs. His mom said something as he passed her at the kitchen table, coupon books spread out in front of her, but he said nothing in return, racing to his room. There, in the safety of his bed, he curled together with the blankets over his head. But that image was burning into his head, he hadn’t known people could scream that loud. He didn’t sleep at all that night, staring as light from the mood cast crawling shadows across his bedroom floor. At school he kept expecting to hear something, to hear about the body and a rapid escaped dog, but there was nothing. And as he walked down the hall to the biology lab he stopped. Standing against the teacher’s desk, his bracelets and throat intact, was Kelburn. He had what looked like a research paper in his hands, but it was smudged with dirt and badly ripped. He watched in silence, screaming inwardly, as Kelburn gave the teacher an apologetic smile. “As lame as this sounds, my dog ate my homework. view here |
