Sticks and Stones 1 - The Sinking Stone - Excerpt

Chapter 1 -


With a yelp, the young man ran across the street. Hands over head, he ducked as the rock whizzed past his head. He knew the other didn’t mean to hit him. If he had, he would be bloody already. Once on the other side, he glanced over his shoulder at the jeering teen.

“I’ll get you next time!”

With a shiver, the young man shoved his hands into his pockets. He knew it would be true. He glanced over his shoulder again then hurried around the corner. His house wasn’t far away. Happily he skipped up the front steps.

His hopes were soon dashed as he fished around in his pocket for his key. His heart sank. I've lost it! Panic set in while his brown eyes scanned the stone steps. His hands patted the front of his pants then went to his backside. The rollercoaster of emotions went up again as he felt something jab his finger through his black jeans.

He tucked his fingers inside his back pocket. Pulling out his key, he shoved it in the lock of his front door. He twisted it then yanked it open. He scooted inside and slammed the door.

With a sigh of relief, he slumped against the door. His hand went to his messenger bag. His eyes closed while he took out his music player. Just barely he’d managed to get away from the bully before he took it. The teen put the ear buds in then turned the music up high. His head bobbed as the rock music screamed through his ears.

He opened his eyes and wandered through the front room to the hallway. Once he found the stairs, he went upstairs to his room. His family was new to the city of Lemoyne, but not new enough that he couldn’t find his own little bit of solace in the new room.

He’d gotten it just the way he liked it. The walls were painted dark blue. On the ceiling were splashes of silver paint. It looked more like stars than random splatter. A heavy curtain was over the bay window to keep the room dark. When he wished, though, he could hide in the space between the room and the window so no one inside could see him. Only the wood in the room was bright, a white oak. Then there were the usual things. A bed was opposite the closet, both adjoining the walls with the window. A desk was on the wall adjoining the bed, which was also the one for the door. A massive trunk was at the bottom of the bed so the window couldn’t be immediately accessed.

Once the youth was inside his bedroom he tore off most of his clothing. In place of the uniform-like outfit he pulled on a black t-shirt with charcoal gray sweatpants. He kept his ear buds in, listening as the rock turned to grunge. He bobbed his head while he clipped his player to his waistband. Then he dove into his bed with the heavy comforter wrapped over his head. He buried his face into the navy sheets, trying to blend in though some of his spiky black hair poked out from under them.

In his office, the teen’s father pulled his head up from his work at the noise. He chuckled faintly then returned to his work. It seemed to be a normal day, so he didn’t see a reason to rip his blue eyes away from his computer screen. He would keep working until it was time to make dinner.

Around the time dinner was prepared, the teen’s mother returned home. With a yawn leaving her lips, she wandered into the front room. She pulled off her scarf as she called, “Anyone home?”

“In here darling,” the father replied.

The mother wandered into the kitchen. She chuckled, hanging up her striped scarf and white coat in a closet. “Only you, James?”

“Yes, only me, Shannon.” He chuckled and pulled the pink apron off his waist. It matched her dress.

“I take it Ricky is up in his room again?”

“Yes,” replied the teen’s father. He hung the apron on a peg then wrapped his arms around her waist. “Have a good day at work?”

“Yes dear,” replied the teen’s mother. She smiled while she wrapped her arms around his neck. She kissed him lightly then continued, “How is he?”

Shrugging, James replied, “The same.”

Shannon pursed her lips. “I thought the change of scenery would do him some good.”

“I suppose he’ll be better once he’s been here a while.”

“I hope so.”

“Maybe he’ll make some friends.”

She sighed, resting her cheek on his chest. Her pale fingers brushed along his tan skin. “I hope so.”

“I bet he will. He’s a good kid.” James nodded. He brushed his fingers through her auburn locks.

“Right, I’ll go get him.”

James tilted his head down, lightly kissing her lips. He was two inches taller than her. It didn’t matter, though; she had a bigger presence than him.

Shannon squeezed him. Then she turned and left the room. Once upstairs, she knocked on her son’s door. “Ricky?” No response came. She was used to it, though. Shannon opened her door then slid inside. “Ricky!”

“What, mom?” The teen pulled his head out of the comforter. Ricky blinked, pulling the ear buds out of his ears.

“It’s dinner time.” Shannon watched her son. She wrapped her arms across her chest. “How was school?”

Ricky groaned and buried his face into his pillow. “It sucks. I hate it here.”

“Well we’re not moving anytime soon if I can help it.” Shannon stepped over, pulling away his comforter. “You’ll be fine. Now come down to dinner.”

“Mmph...” Ricky muttered, sitting up on the bed. He turned off his music player. He knew he couldn’t take it to the table, so he left it on his bed. He climbed out, yawning. “I’m coming, mom.”

“Okay,” Shannon said then left.

Ricky ran his hand through his hair. His eyes scanned the room. Then he sighed and his eyes caught a mirror. He wasn’t tall, but he wasn’t all that short either. With his father’s black hair and his mother’s pale skin, he looked sick most of the time. He probably would look better if he got more sun, but usually he tried to avoid it. With a shake of his head, Ricky left his room.

Downstairs, the meal was spread over the table in the kitchen. There were only three of them in the family, so they all fit around the corner table. It was a round wooden one, since the son in the family seemed to be accident prone.


“Look who is up,” James said. He smiled, ruffling his son’s hair.

“Cut it out dad,” Ricky said, ducking out from under his hand.

“How was school?”

Ricky grumbled, “I’m glad tomorrow is Friday.”

“That bad, eh?” James shook his head. He sat in the corner chair, sideways from the island.

Shannon sat in the seat adjacent from him, on the other side of the table from the island. There was a window behind her. The light from outside made her auburn hair glow red.

With a sigh, Ricky wandered to the seat adjacent from his mother. He stared across the table at his father. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Fine,” said James. He looked at his wife. “So how was work?”

Shannon spoke, “Oh it was wonderful. I’ve got a lot of contracts for new marketing schemes. We’re doing soda now.”

“Anything you can tell me about?”

“Of course not,” Shannon chuckled, “But you might be able to write some lyrics for the jingle.”

Ricky poked at his pasta while he listened. He knew they would ask him to help, but as usual he would refuse. It just wasn’t right to be one of their agents. He didn’t want to be that. After a few bites he stood up. “I’m going to bed.”

“Night, son.”

“Night, Ricky,” the mother added. She sighed, shaking her head as he left.

“He’ll be fine,” the father said. He patted her thigh.

While she nodded, the son made his way into his bedroom. Ricky sighed while he shut his door. Slamming it would just earn an earful about how it wasn’t safe to slam doors. He rolled his eyes, remembering it. He walked over to the desk and sat down. There was homework to do, but he wasn’t in the mood. Sighing, Ricky pulled out a piece of paper and pencil. A mix of words and doodles went around the outside edge. When he ran out of things to do, he returned to bed.