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Author's Note: Ch.2, finally. So I was planning on posting this a couple of days ago but got sidetracked with a bit of MMO stuff. I'm on track with this story currently so that's a good thing, I just finished Ch.3 this morning. This chapter is the beginning of the weird things. There will be a certain amount of weirdness in this story, not like Whisper Pines though. A different kind. You'll start to see it at the end of this chapter. The picture might be a hint ;). Also I'd like to thank everyone who commented on my last chapter and said all those nice things, its helped boost my writing confidence a great deal. I was pretty depressed about my writing as of late, so thanks again.

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2.

Carrie didn’t look happy, which scared me even more.

I saw her as soon as I rounded the corner. There were six girls milling about the front of the dance studio, all of them in pink leotards and tights. Carrie was looking around, annoyed. I sighed. She stood out from all the rest and not because of her auburn hair. Though only ten, she was already the tallest girl in her class. It was Dad’s genes. The man was six foot three and quite the presence. We took after him in our own way. Becca and I were the same height which wouldn’t have been a problem for me but it bothered Dad. He thought I was too short. He had two older brothers, both of them over six feet. Even Aunt Grace was tall. My male cousins were pushing six feet and above too. I was somehow the disgraced male member of the Matthews clan. My height was just one more of the many disapproving things my father hated about me.

I slowed down my pace as I approached.

“Hey Bun Head,” I said, trying to lighten her sour mood.

It didn’t help.

“Dad’s mad,” she said, waving her phone.

Of course, he is.

I was about to tell her what I thought of it but then realized I was about to tell it to a ten-year-old. I gave her a weak smile and said nothing.

“So what’s my punishment?”

She smiled. “Marsh’s.”

She was letting me off the hook this time.

Last week when I forgot her, she made me give her a piggyback ride all the way to the bus stop home. We lived in a newer development just outside the city. It was one of the furthest things from civilization, save maybe the cow and apple farms beyond it. Being the Chief of Police, Dad had one of the bigger houses in the neighborhood, not that it mattered much. Most of the houses there were pretty large. The elite of the elite was supposed to live there: doctors, lawyers, dickheads. Kurt lived there. Most of his cronies did too. Growing up there hadn’t been a walk in the park. Especially because Charlie lived in an apartment complex on the opposite side of town and not one of the fancier ones.

Dad frowned on that friendship too.

Nothing I did was ever good enough for my father.

“So your torture is to make me go to work on my day off?” I asked.

She didn’t say anything.

Marsh’s was a General store that sold pretty much everything. I worked there part-time during school and most of the time over the summer. It wasn’t the best job but it put money in my pockets. My boss---Mr. Marsh---wasn’t a bad guy so that was a plus. The store was a local staple, the Marsh’s having owned it for years. The way old man Marsh tells it, his great-grandfather built it at the turn of last century. He took over from his father in the 1950s. The store had that old Mom and Pop vibe to it. It was a favorite for a lot of the kids Carrie’s age though. It was one of the few places around that still had a Soda shop and they had a section that sold candy for a dime.

Kids like Carrie ate that stuff up.

It helped that it was only around the corner from the dance studio.

Taking Carrie by the hand---much to her distaste---I walked her to the shop.

It was surprisingly quiet for a Saturday afternoon. The place was usually bustling with kids, running about, screaming. Doing the things that kids do. I pushed open the door, the bell chimed to announce us. As soon as we were inside, Carrie pulled away and took off. No doubt to load up on a bunch of junk I was going to pay for later. I watched her little bun head disappear down one of the many aisles before I meandered about. I was trying to be inconspicuous. Most of the kids knew me, knew I worked here. It didn’t matter that it was my day off, if they wanted something, they’d badger me for it. Thankfully my hood hid most of my face. One of the regulars rushed right by me without even noticing.

“Chase!”

I grunted.

So much for being all stealthy.

I turned, smiling at the owner of the voice.

“Hey, Kel!”

Kelly was Mr. Marsh’s granddaughter. Unlike me, the girl never seemed to take a day off. She was always here, always doing something. Today it was sweeping the floors apparently. Like Charlie, she was usually all smiles. Today was no different. When Kelly was around, her bubbly personality was infectious. I found myself smiling too. I liked Kelly a lot. Not in any sexual way either. I’m not going to lie though, she was cute. She had flaxen blonde hair, a smattering of freckles and baby blue eyes. She was sadly taken. Her boyfriend Rodney was on the basketball team. Most things told me I should hate him but I didn’t. Rod was a great guy. He was one of those guys with the golden heart: he helped little old ladies across the street, he offered you his umbrella in the rain, he stuck up for you if he saw you in trouble.

Everything that Kurt wasn’t.

“Chase, isn’t this your day off?”

She had stopped sweeping and was giving me a false frown.

“Carrie,” I said as if it explained everything.

She giggled. “I think she’s in here more than you, maybe I should ask Pops to hire her too.”

We shared a laugh.

“Pops” is what everyone called Mr. Marsh.

Its what he told us to call him.

“Does she sweep better than certain girls I know?” asked Pops as he passed by carrying a box.

Without even thinking, I reached forward and took the box from him.

Pops was pushing seventy and was starting to show it. Not that he’d ever admit it though. At one time, he’d been a pretty active guy. He had awards and trophies to prove it. His office was decorated with them. Most of his accolades had been in boxing though. Not that you could tell by looking at him though. Age had taken its toll. I’d seen pictures of the younger man and it was hard to make a comparison. Gone was the buff, muscled man with the full head of hair and the toothy smile. In his place was a stooped elderly gentleman with thinning hair and a toothless grin.

“You’re off today,” he said, trying to take the box back from me.

I wouldn’t allow it.

He stopped trying with a grunt.

I said goodbye to his granddaughter then followed him to the back room where the box was clearly going.

“So how’s the swimming going?”

I sighed. “Not as well as I would like.”

It was true. I was hoping this summer training would make a difference, it wasn’t. It wasn’t a total disaster but I was pretty much where I was at the beginning of it. No amount of anything was making any headway. It was almost as if my body was stuck at default. No matter how much I trained or ate, I just couldn’t seem to change it. The start of my junior year was only a couple of weeks away too. Swim team tryouts were next week. It was beginning to look like I was finished before I even got started.

“Sounds to me like you’re giving up?”

I shrugged. “Don’t have much of a choice.”

Pops smacked me in the back of the head. It wasn’t meant to be malicious or anything. It was his way to “knock some sense into me” as he liked to call it.

It had the effect he desired.

“There’s always a choice,” he said “and there’s no quitters. Not here. I didn’t win all those trophies by quitting...”

I nodded as he talked. I heard this speech before so I tuned most of it out.

He was halfway through it when he stopped and glared at me. “You’re not listening are you?”

“Of course I am.”

He huffed.”You, young people, have no respect...”

He went off on that.

This tirade was a little harsher. He meant well though. He was just one of those older people who thought they couldn’t understand “our generation”. It was a wicked cycle. I bet his grandparents had the same tirade when he was my age. Pops wasn’t old school though. He was a pretty active man. Just last year, he and his son went on a hiking trip across Europe. Of course, that was before he had his knee surgery. Now the man was a shell of his former self. That didn’t stop him though. Like trying to do his own inventory and stocking. I couldn’t even count how many times I had to intervene on that bit. I wasn’t exactly Hercules but at least I was strong enough to carry the larger boxes.

“You’re not paying attention again...”

I sighed. “I’m sorry, Pops, I’m distracted today.”

“Girl trouble?”

I scoffed.

I wish.

I had a girlfriend once: Lacy Peters. Or as Charlie liked to call her, “Looney Lacy”. Not that she was crazy or anything. She was just very enthusiastic. She was a bit of a glitter nut and liked to bedazzle everything. We dated for a bit in seventh grade. The relationship ended after she gave me a bedazzled t-shirt with a kitten on it. When she tried to get me to wear it to school, I called it quits. A shirt like that was blood in the water. It all worked out in the end though. Lacy was with George Dietz now---he collected bugs---it was a strange match made in heaven.

Lacy was sadly my first and last girlfriend.

Not that I didn’t try after her. Seventh grade was the beginning and the end for me sadly. The summer before eighth grade, ninety percent of my peers hit puberty in a big way. Most of the guys started to grow in height, hair and sadly muscle. Being under six foot I didn’t have the desired height, I barely grew any hair on my face and my muscles. That’s where the real problem started. Most girls my age weren’t looking for the tall, thin and scrawny type. Add to the fact that my auburn mop made me look like a darker haired Ron Weasley and well, I wasn’t exactly a chick magnet.

"There hasn’t been one of those for me in a while” I finally confessed to the older man.

Pops nodded, gently gripping my shoulder. “Nothing wrong with that my boy, I didn’t meet my Mary until I was in college”. He looked over at the picture of his wife on the wall. “God rest her soul.”

I never knew Mrs. Marsh.

She passed away even before Kelly was born.

Pops talked about her a lot though.

She seemed like a nice woman.

I smiled. “Maybe someday.”

We left it at that. Pops shooed me out of the storeroom. I left reluctantly. I knew what was going to happen. He’d continue to bring in boxes by himself. He was stubborn like that. It was one of the reasons why I dreaded taking days off. The man was constantly bringing in new supplies. When I wasn’t here, there was no one else to help him. Kelly and I were the only employees. Pops never liked the help. The only reason he even agreed to hire me was that Kelly’s Dad talked him into it. He was a cop too. Unlike my Dad though, he was just a patrolman. That didn’t make him any less of a police officer though. In fact, I respected him for it more than I did my father. Kelly’s Dad was actually out on the streets, making a difference.

My Dad never left his office anymore.

“Pops, maybe I should...”

He cut me off. “It is your day off, enjoy it!”

Any further protest on my part was interrupted by the arrival of my sister. She was carrying a large brown bag in one hand and an ice cream cone in the other.

“I need money!”

I rolled my eyes. Taking out my wallet, I handed her a twenty.

“I want change!” I shouted as she ran off to pay for her stuff.

I knew she heard me. Whether or not she actually listened was another story.

Carrie came wandering back a few minutes later with a big smile on her face.

“My change?”

She gave me a look with a wicked smile.

Damn.

The bus stop home was only a block or so from Marsh’s.

It took some convincing to drag Carrie away though. When she got going, she really got going. Even after she made me buy all that junk for her too. I literally had to pick her up and carry her out the door. It was quite the scene. Carrie even fought me a bit. Her struggle was for show though. My sister liked to play games. One of them was to annoy the hell out of me. Every weekend we played the “I don’t want to leave” game. She thought it was funny. Me, not so much. Especially a couple of weeks ago when a police officer didn’t know she was pretending to be an annoying little brat. When my sister explained to him he laughed but that didn’t stop him from telling our father.

Dad didn’t think it was funny.

And yet, I got in trouble for it.

Go figure.

Carrying her---while she threw a fake tantrum---drew the eyes of several passersby. I ignored them. Then pretended to carry her over to the trashcans. This was my part of the game, pretending to "throw her out". I opened the lid on one, preparing to throw her in.

That was usually the end of her charade.

“Ok, ok!”

I set her down.

She giggled.

“You were going to do it this time, weren’t you?”

I shrugged.

She faked a pout. “You’re the worst”.

“Says the girl who throws a fake fit whenever she doesn’t get her own way.”

She stuck out her tongue.

We both laughed.

To look at us, one might not think we got along but that’s how we liked it. Our animosity toward each other was pretend like her games. We were actually pretty close. A lot closer than I’d ever been to Becky. It was strange. Becky and I were closer in age to one another but we never really got along. She was the outgoing jock and I was her sickly, bedridden little brother. Becky was Miss Popular too, she had a load of friends, went to a bunch of parties, even dabbled with cheerleading for a bit. Me, well I was the complete opposite. Charlie was the only true friend I had. It was worse for Carrie and Becky. Becky was nearly ten when Carrie was born. The decade of age difference was a pretty big deal. It's not that Becky didn’t have time for her, it's just that Becky was a teenager by the time Carrie really started wanting that sisterly love.

Now it was too late.

Becky was off to college.

She tried of course. I think it was hard. Becky was willing to give up everything to help us but she wasn’t a mother. Carrie needed that. Aunt Grace was great when she was here but Carrie needed something more permanent. I tried my best but I just didn’t have what my little sister was looking for. It sucked. It was a shame too because if I could, I’d be there. I mean the way she wanted and needed. Of course, I’d never admit that to anyone. It's not every day that a teenage boy would willingly admit he’d “mother” his little sister if he could.

Speaking of which:

“I’m hungry.”

I looked down at her. “You’re kidding right?” She shrugged. “Carrie, you just ate an ice cream cone and truck ton of candy?”

She shrugged again.

I looked at my watch. Technically all I had to do today was pick her up from dance class. Dad never said anything about getting her home afterward. Looking around, I tried to see what was closest. I knew there was a little diner not too far away but I also knew my sister. She was going to want fast food. I pulled out my cell, looking for the nearest one. I was only partially familiar with this part of town. I usually took a bus here, went to work and took one home. Except when I had to pick up the squirt of course. Even then, we only went to Marsh’s afterward. I only knew about the diner because I’d been there a couple of times.

I found one.

“There’s a Mickie Dee’s a couple of blocks away?”

Her smile was enough.

We walked.

This time she didn’t try to protest about me holding her hand.

We found McDonald's on the left, across the street. We were almost to the crosswalk when Carrie stopped and pointed:

“Look!”

I looked. At first, I thought she was pointing at the familiar restaurant until I noticed where her finger was pointing too. There was a little street kiosk set up. A pleasant looking older woman was harking wares out of a wooden cart. Squinting I saw the glint of several colorful gems. I groaned. My sister was at that age where little girls craved all things shiny. Mom had a lot of jewelry but Carrie was sadly not allowed to touch it. Aunt Grace bought her a kid jewelry set last year for Christmas. It was all cheap plastic costume jewelry but she’d been ecstatic about it. Looking at the old woman with her necklaces, I inwardly groaned.

I knew where this was going.

Carrie started tugging on my hand.

As soon as the light turned, she pulled me across the road.

We went right past our destination and of course right to the cart. I tried to be polite and return the old woman’s smile.

“Well don’t you look adorable!” she gushed at my little sister.

I’d almost forgotten Carrie was still in her bun head outfit.

“Thank you,” said, my little sister. “I’m a ballerina.”

She did a little pirouette.

Carrie was a big show off.

The woman smiled. “That you are and a pretty one at that.”

My sister blushed.

I did my best not to be noticed. The woman gave me another smile. It was warm and welcoming. The kind of grandmother might give. This woman definitely had that grandmotherly like quality to her. She couldn’t have been more than sixty. Her dark hair was pulled into a tight bun, most of it going gray. She was dressed sharp though, not dowdy as one might expect. She wasn’t like the typical street vendors that’s for sure. The city was known for them. There were a lot of little shops like this but I’d never seen one so far from Main Street. Looking from her to her necklaces, they didn’t look cheap either.

They looked well crafted.

And expensive.

Carrie’s eyes were as big as saucers.

I groaned.

I knew what was coming next.

“Chase, I want one!”

“I just bought you ice cream and a bunch of candy.”

She pouted, not fake this time.

“These are so much cooler though”.

I rolled my eyes. The woman looked from her to me. She gave me another warm look. “You know, I am currently running a deal. Two for one. I’ve got quite the selection.”

“I’m not sure I can...”

“Half off too.”

That was generous of her. I knew how this was going to go. Carrie was already pleading with me with those eyes. The death stare. I knew there was no way I was going to escape it. She knew it too. She was a Master at that stare. Even our stone cold, stoic father fell for it.

I sighed.

Defeated.

“Ok fine,” I said finally.

"I want this one," she said, reaching for one but stopping. "No this one!"

She was holding one with a purple stone but if I knew my sister she'd probably change her mind in a couple of seconds. Just as I had that thought, the purple one went back on the cart. I rolled my eyes. I was trying to feign interest when Carrie surprised me:

“You need one too!"

"Why?"

'Because I can't look cool alone!"

"Carrie, boys don't wear stuff like this".

"Please?"

She was using the eyes and the pout again.

Great.

The woman continued to smile at me. “You know I do have a couple of nice, more masculine ones.”

She winked.

I did my best to smile back. “Its fine really.”

I looked at the large assortment she had. I didn’t really know much about this stuff. I knew though that if I didn’t pick something, Carrie would whine. When she set her mind to something, that was the end of it. If she wanted me to have one, then I was going to have to buy one. Though I think most of her excitement was over the fact that I was even letting her have one in the first place. So I did my best to try and find one that I could hide away in a drawer somewhere that no one would ever see.

I tried to find one of the "masculine" ones she mentioned. Guys wore necklaces, right? Surely she had something here that could appease me. I started looking over the ones that weren't all glittery and gaudy. I thought I found one that matched my style, it was silver, with a cool skull pendant. I started to reach for it but stopped. My eyes were suddenly drawn to something else.

It was on a thin chain and shaped a bit like a water drop.

Aquamarine.

I knew it well.

It was my birthstone.

More than that, it was my mother’s stone too.

Mom and I were both born in March. When I was growing up though, she used to go out of her way to always buy me something blue. Most of them were a darker blue though. Boys didn’t like light blue, it was too girly. I’d always had a soft spot for it though. It reminded me of her. Mom used to have an aquamarine necklace too. The gem on hers though was pretty tiny compared to the one sitting in front of me.

I absently reached for it.

The woman followed my eyes. When her eyes fell on the necklace, they widened a bit.

“How did that get...” she said softly, surprised.

I paused, looking at her face.

“Something wrong?” I asked, confused.

She shook her head. “No, it's just...well...I didn’t think I packed that one today.”

She was stumbling over her words a bit.

“Is there something wrong with it?”

I pulled my hand away, afraid.

I hope it wasn’t cursed or something.

She chuckled. “No, nothing like that. It's just...well...I’ve had that one for years. I’ve tried selling it but no one seems to be drawn to it. I finally stopped trying. I thought I left it back at the shop but this old gal ain’t what she used to be. Must have packed it without looking.”

“It's my birthstone,” I said, absently staring at it.

It was weird.

I’d never really been interested in necklaces. There was something about that one though.

It was almost as if it spoke to me.

I reached out for it, my fingertips hovering over it.

Carrie beat to it.

“Oh, it's really pretty!” she said, snatching it up. “Like Mom’s”

Huh.

Carrie held the aquamarine necklace in one hand and her current selection, a pink one. She stared from one to the other before putting the pink necklace down. A second later she picked up another necklace, one with an identical stone to the one I was “supposed” to have.

The old woman smiled. “Are you sure you’re all set?”

Carrie nodded. “These two are perfect, like sisters!”

I groaned.

That’s the last thing I needed.

The two necklaces ended up costing me sixty bucks. It wasn’t that bad a deal. I paid the woman. She put them in a little velvet bag and handed them to my sister. Carrie beamed at her like an idiot. The woman smiled and waved. We started to walk away when she gently touched my arm.

“Young man,” she said, her voice soft and low. “You look after that now, it's very special.”

I humored her with a smile and a nod.

Weirdo.

I started to follow Carrie back toward the McDonalds.

We were just going through the door when I felt something.

A tingle in my hand.

It was only there for a second though.

What was that?

Author’s note: As I’m sure all of you know, comments are life blood to an author. I’m not begging or demanding, but I certainly would appreciate anything you have to say (or ask). It doesn’t have to be long and involved, just give me your reaction to the story. Thanks in advance...EOF