Ghost Bird... Do You Hear Me?Book II

Honeysuckles

My favorite scent in the whole world. Gabriel!! I need this scent!! 

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Honeycuckles

Christoph Metsos's POV:

For all accounts, I was a plain boy. I was of average height, average weight, dull plain brown eyes, and brown hair. There was never even a smile on my face. I tried though. Every time there was something even remotely close to being able to smile about, I remembered home, and then the corners of my mouth tipped back down. Home...sigh.

"Christoph! Get your head out of the damn clouds and get into the truck." Ugh, that shriek. I don't even remember my real parents. All I know, or rather what I have been able to gather, is that they were Russian immigrants from the war. I get glimpses of their faces from time to time, but they fade more and more every day.

I have been living with these people since I was four. Sampson and Tara Peterson. World's strictest parents, I swear to goodness. There are never any smiles, no pats on the backs... just work. The weird thing is, in the past thirteen years, I get these really back headaches, and I lose these periods of time. When I wake up, my body is really sore, or my brain feels like it has been hijacked. I think my body is just trying to tell me that I need to move on and accept the cards that have been dealt. I am a nobody, and that is my lot in life.

"Coming, Tara." I quickly rush from my little closet of a room. I know I only have ten seconds or I will have hell to pay. More than likely digging holes, and then refilling them; over and over again until Sampson gets bored. Sometimes I am left in the yard all night doing this. Those are not good nights. Then I still have to go to school in the morning. "Sorry, Tara."

"Sorry what?" she spits at me.

"I am so sorry, Miss Tara. It will not happen again, Miss Tara." My head stays down. I don't fear her, but I would rather not have to go through any more punishments at the moment. My back is still killing me from last night's punishments. I had to lift the large rocks that lined the three-hundred-yard-long driveway, one at a time, from one end to the other. There was no getting out of it either. They had numbered them all, from one to twenty-four hundred, and I couldn't just switch them from one side of the driveway to the other. No, I had to go the whole length, and then switch sides.

"Get into the truck." Miss Tara was the only one who ever drove me anywhere. I had no idea how we got there, and how we got back. I just know that when we did get back that I had more chores to do and that I was usually at fault for whatever it was that I did while we were away. When I hopped into the bed of the truck, I was surprised to see Sampson coming out. I quickly turned around and faced the old barn so I wouldn't get into trouble for listening in on their conversation.

"Boy! Get your ass in here," his voice bellowed. I jumped at the sound and scrambled out the back, falling to the dirt.

"Y-y-yes, S-s-sir." I dusted myself off as quickly and cleanly as I could before I climbed up in between Miss Tara and Sampson.

"Look in my eyes, boy."

Mr. Sampson was going to yell at me, I knew it. On the other hand, if I didn't look, I would get it ten times worse. I counted to three in my head, and raised my eyes to meet his.

"Now, boy, Look at me in the eyes, Good. All your training pays off today."

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"You're such a good kind boy, Christoph. You've made a wonderful choice. I hope you make lots of friends. If you have any troubles, remember to call. Here is our number. See ya later!" Then these two strangers were off. Who were they? How did I get here? I looked at the paper I had been given; Mary Ellen & Jonathan Snow. Huh, they seemed nice.