Regional At Best

1. guns for hands - part three

VOTE: for this story what color should Josh's hair be? Yellow, Pink, or Blue?

"There's hope out the window"

After coming home to her empty house, Freya Bryant went upstairs. She passed her older brother's room, which was also empty,except for a single box that sat in the corner, marked as "DANNY," an obnoxious smiley face drawn next to the name. It was filled with medals and ribbons recognizing him for winning competitions from science fairs to athletics. Daniel Bryant, valedictorian of his class, receiver of a scholarship for an Ivy League school, and a pretentious asshole.

When his parents and sister dropped him off at the airport, Mrs. Bryant shed a few tears, Mr. Bryant gave him a brief speech about "becoming a man of high education," and Freya happily waved him goodbye. Before his departure he gave Freya a suffocating hug and said to her quietly, "What will life at home become when Mom and Dad's favorite is gone?"

     His leaving diverted the attention that was always on him at home towards her following in his footsteps. But Freya didn't want to go to medical school, she wanted to go to art school. She wanted to go to a place where she wouldn't be judged for not wanting to dress nicely. Where she wouldn't be frowned upon for wearing over-sized sweaters and baggy pants with clunky boots. Where she wouldn't be forced to be on the cheer squad, around peppy girls who didn't want anything to do with her.

    If Freya was given a dollar for every time her parents had said, 'Why can't you be more like your brother?' her pockets would be pretty damn full.

The house felt terribly hollow. Unimportant possessions filled each room, but it felt like the entire place was clear of everything except Freya. She wandered the house for a while, then made her way back to her room in the end. The sun sank slowly to the ground, burying itself. Night was when things happened—both good and bad. Night gave a reason for there to be day. For hope to build. It was dark out, the dim street lamps not doing much to illuminate the street. Freya could see the baseball field from where she stood next to the window. It was dark, until the bright bulbs of the field lights flickered on, the light shining into her room and illuminating the chain link fence surrounding the patchy grass. She shoved the curtains aside, and pushed the window up and open.

      Two groups of people—both consisted of boys, the youngest probably fifteen, the oldest about nineteen, stepped onto the field. At the front of the rougher looking group—greasers—were clad in leather and denim jackets, ripped jeans and wrinkled shirts, were two of the older boys. One wore a black cap facing forward and a black bomber jacket, tossing a baseball in the air then catching it again, his shoulders pushed back as he continued to walk towards the other group. Beside him was another, a little shorter, twirling an old wooden bat, wearing the same cap backwards, brightly colored hair sticking out from the bottom. 

     The other group seemed to be preps considering their way of dressing—clean, white tennis shoes, collared shirts and pressed letterman jackets. They carried their own bat and ball as well.

Leading the preps was a familiar face—Freya squinted her eyes to make sure she was seeing things right. James, Madi's boyfriend. After scanning the rest of the boys' faces, almost all of them from both groups were familiar. Seen passing through hallways, even in a few of Freya's classes.

Freya extended her leg out the window, stepping onto the roof, staying low so she wouldn't be seen. Tucking her legs underneath her bottom, she waited for something to happen. The air was cool and the hum of the field lights buzzed in her ears. Scooting closer to the edge, she watched as the boys scanned the area as they walked toward the center of the field to meet. Freya checked the time, holding her watch close to her face so she could read it. 5:00. Something was important about 5:00. She remembered as the security lights suddenly flashed on, leaving no shadows left on the roof.

Freya cursed and threw herself back through her bedroom window as the boys whipped their heads around at the sudden added light. She tucked herself behind her wall and turned off the lights in her room. As she closed her window, the vacant house was filled with the sound of a bat and a ball colliding with a crack.

A/N.  This is where the story will begin to pick up a little. We're getting to some excitement, I promise.
-Brooke