Chapter Two

3.3K 148 45
                                    

Inside the recreation center pops of vivid bright greens, blues, reds, and yellows were scattered around trying to bring fun in the depressing surroundings

Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.

Inside the recreation center pops of vivid bright greens, blues, reds, and yellows were scattered around trying to bring fun in the depressing surroundings. Four round white tables were in the middle of the room with various items on top. Each table was a station, where the Dawson Prep students and their children were busy with tasked assigned by the nurse.

The nurse left and retreated back to the nurse's station because all was going well in the room. The children were having fun. The students were attentive and interactive. There were no tantrums or ailments that needed attending too. The only thing that could be heard over the hard rain colliding into the window was laughter. A sound rarely heard on the pediatric floor.

"That's cheating?" Gavin Abramov, the son of a Russian Diplomat said as Faith moved her dog Monopoly piece pass go. "You're supposed to be in jail!" Gavin moved Faith's piece to the square where the man winched behind the bars pathetically.

"Don't touch my piece!" Faith Payson, a preacher's daughter and ancestor of the school's namesake, snatched the metal dog from the square and slammed it back on Boardwalk almost denting the paper board.

The little redhead boy sitting at the table with them let his eyes skid back and forth to each teenager as he wondered what was going to happen next. With hard glares, they beamed at each other and everyone in the room knew something was coming.

Sensing the tension in the air Isabeth Ovien, the granddaughter of a textile magnate and the daughter of an Oscar winner looked up from the puzzle she was helping her kids with and pleaded, "Don't egg her on."

In the back, Malachi Johnson, the son of a professional basketball player and District Attorney peered over his copy of Rumpelstiltskin to see what was the matter. The two girls sitting on the fluffy beanbags insisted her go on, not caring about the event occurring behind their backs. He wondered if he needed to jump in but didn't want to ignite things. His friendship with Faith was a fragile creature, a broken cup with splintered cracks that he had to handle carefully.

"There are rules to this game," Gavin told.

He was a staunch believer in not cheating. He wanted to be able to gloat, rub it in your face, without any guilt fogging in his mind when he beat you.

He picked up her game piece again. As his hand hung in mid-air, Faith swiped the board off the table and flung it across the room like a Frisbee. Money, game pieces, and cards flew everywhere like popcorn in a lid-less popcorn popper.

Harper Chambers, the daughter of a shipping magnate and cosmetic maven snickered at the table with Isabeth then cover her mouth feeling Isabeth's glower.

"Game Over!" Faith folded her arms rolling her deep blue eyes smoother than a slice of thawed butter.

Troy Zhang, the son of the head of the CDC and a plastic surgeon, ducked down removing his eye from the board's trajectory. It glided over his meticulous moose hair and crashed into the wall.

"What the hell?" Troy spewed raising his head up from under the table.

"Chill out, ya'll!" Fiona hissed then turned back to her drawing of what was supposed to be a dog but looked like a horse with horns. The little boy she was working with squinted his eyes at her drawing trying to decipher it. Maybe it was a bull, a Longhorn, but a canine it was not. "Let's focus and ignore the dimwits."

Kevin divided the deck of red playing cards. "We're supposed to be examples of good sportsmanship." He leered his hazel eyes at Faith.

"I'm supposed to take your advice?" Faith sharply pointed at the red, black, blue, and green plastic chips. "How do you think their parents are going to react if they find out an asshole is teaching their kids poker?"

"I think they would be happy." Kevin Tomilson, the son of NBA team owning family said dealing cards, throwing them to the kids' open hands playfully. "How else will these poor bastards get money?"

Isabeth flung a puzzle piece at Kevin, "Stop swearing! We're mentors, remember."

Kevin quickly picked up the puzzle piece that smacked him on the ear, "You're not getting this back." He slid the essential corner piece in the pocket of his blue jeans.

"I'm sure they've already heard all these words a hundred times over." Harper declared swiping her finger along the irregular curves of the cardboard puzzle piece.

"Not the point." Isabeth adjusted the cast wearing girl's pink hoodie. "We are their elders. So, we are to act as such, with dignity and class. Neither of which you three are exhibiting." Isabeth preached staring intently at each of them.

Faith stood from her seat, "Who died and made you queen of etiquette?"

"Well, since you're running around like a classless heathen someone must be civilized." Isabeth pointed at herself.

Faith squinted her eyes deciding if she wanted to take the comment as a dig or ignore it. She popped up her right middle finger waving it around to the whole room, "How is that for classless?" She pranced out the room with her thick green rain-boots slamming on the tile floor.

Isabeth shook her head, let out a gasp of air, and handed the little girl the last corner piece they had.

"I don't know why you said anything." Gavin bobbed his curly blond head up picking up all the money and cards that lay on the floor around the room. "You know if you tell her something she'll do the opposite to annoy you."

"And to think a year ago we were all friends" Harper peeled the girl's little fingers off her hand grasping at the puzzle piece she claimed.

"That was a long time ago." Isabeth sounded quick and to the point.




So, you've met the gang! How do you like them? 


Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
The Psychopath MakerWhere stories live. Discover now