The Scars of Qulin Moore

Chapter 28

Today was the day.

Dianna dressed, the photo of Lucas repeating in her mind. He was alive. She could save him.

Her bedroom door opened. Mitch slammed the door behind him. His red face was as telling as his aggressive motions. "Why did you tell James?"

"Because I needed his help," Dianna responded, reaching for her phone. "Come look at this photo I took last night."

Mitch took the phone, his mouth fell open. "Is it really him?"

"Of course. I told you Lucas was in that house." Her tone slipping into a tremble. "That black thing...I don't know what it is—it's attacking him, forcing him back into the house. James is on his way over right now. We're going to rescue Lucas, and you're coming with us."

"No, I'm not," Mitch replied, shoving the phone back into her hands. "How do you plan on leaving, you're still grounded, remember?"

Dianna smiled. "Easy. You're gonna tell one more lie since you're so good as it. Where going to go downstairs, eat breakfast, and you're going to tell Dad that you need my help studying at the library for a big exam that you have on Monday. You're going to beg him and sell it good, understand?"

Mitch scoffed. "He's not gonna buy it."

"Of course he will, you're his favorite," Dianna replied, "he'll be pleased to know you're working hard on a Saturday for all those straight A's so you get into the school of his liking."

Mitch looked down, and kicked the rolled up blanket by his feet. "Fine. But I'm not going over there without something to protect me. I'll see what Dad has in the basement."

~~~~~~

"Good morning, Dad. Good morning, Mom," Dianna said entering the kitchen.

"Morning, darling," Mrs. Huston replied, flipping a pancake. "You seem chipper this morning."

Mr. Huston glanced up from his newspaper, and nodded, then resumed reading.

Dianna sat down at the far end of the table. Mitch sauntered in, zipping up his backpack and sat next to her. They exchanged anxious looks. Dianna motioned ever so slightly for Mitch to start talking.

Mitch cleared his throat. "Hey Dad," he began, "if it's okay with you, I was wondering if Dianna could come to the library and help me study for a test today."

Mr. Huston peered suspiciously over the top of his paper. "On a Saturday? What kind of test?"

"You know," Mitch faltered, his mind blanking. Mrs. Huston placed a plate of steaming pancakes in-between them buying him a bit more time.

"Math," Dianna chimed in, "it's the upcoming calculus exam."

"Yeah," Mitch chuckled nervously, "that's right, on Monday, yeah...calculus. Need a good passing mark if the Ivey Leagues are even going to look at me."

"Oh how sweet, Di wants to help her big brother," Mrs. Huston swooned from the kitchen, then returned her attention to the sizzling pan.

Mr. Huston put his paper down. His crinkled glare scrutinizing his children. "Boy, you're gonna need to do something about that memory loss, too. Have you been drinking too much soda? I told you all that sugar is no good for a man's thinking. You need more protein, build up the muscles in that throwing arm."

"I will, sir, fix my memory...no sir, no soda," Mitch replied, shifting his eyes to the plate of pancakes.

"Okay then, I approve of this extra work you're willing to put in. That's how a true Huston behaves, always striving to be better." Mr. Huston then focused on Dianna. "I'll let you go, but I want you both back in one hour. No excuses."