Uncanny Day by Cory Clubb Page A

fueled a long-abandoned plan I had when I first moved in.
    Run away.
    It would be so easy. I had plenty of cash saved up. Something deep inside me whispered. Was that the real reason I read minds at school? A way out? But where would I go, and how long would I last? I was fifteen and still didn’t have my license, let alone being able to afford a set of wheels of my own. Dean drove me everywhere, and considering how dinner had just played out, he wasn’t an option.
    Moving back to my bed, I leaned back onto its sea of strewn blankets, but I didn’t dare close my eyes. Tonight I was sure I would have little to no sleep. I hated this. I was tired of fighting and losing. What I needed to do was something for myself.
    The idea I had now flooded my head and I made a decision.
    I was leaving.

Chapter Sixteen
    WITH MY SWEATSHIRT ON, I slid open my bedroom window. The warmth of my breath swirled in front of me. I drew up the hood of my sweatshirt and stretched out my leg onto the roof of the house, but froze. I had to be committed to this. If I was going to do it, I had to follow through and not wuss out.
    Steadying myself, I grabbed the shingles of the roof and pulled my other leg out into the night. I’d done it. I had made it to the roof. Great.
    Was it smart to avoid Rick and Tracy like this? Would I be able to convince Dean, or would he turn me in again? More and more questions attacked my mind as the wind picked up.
    Then I heard a noise, a sharp thwack from below my perch. It came again and again and then finally a crack. I knew exactly what it was. Dean was blowing off some steam, just as I knew he would be.
    The weather was perfect for it, and Dean used the time to gather his thoughts. It was a sort of solitude for him, chopping wood out in back of the house, a labor by choice to focus on something other than the moment at hand.
    I took a quick step over to the porch roof and stopped. From there I could see the silver edge of the business end of the axe aimed up and then disappear from sight. The sound that followed was a quick thud that would make trees scream.
    Moving across the porch roof quickly but quietly, I drew closer. I could hear Dean breathing. He wasn’t mumbling to himself or cussing up a storm, like I had been ready to do. He was calm and simply letting the breath flow out of him with every overhead swing.
    I let my feet dangle from the edge of the awning. Dean was positioned with his back to me, his work illuminated by a few floodlights that shone from the side of the house. Thick steam came off the top of his head in the growing darkness of night.
    I watched Dean work. It made me regret my words to him. Here I was, ready to run away from my problems, and here was Dean. Doing what? Chopping wood outside. I’m not saying I wanted to start laying bricks or anything, but this guy wasn’t feeling sorry for himself or stewing about the situation. He was coping with it in his own way. I was sure that in maybe ten minutes he’d quit, and, like he always did, try to talk things out with me. The least I could do this time was start the conversation.
    I waited for Dean to relax and not be mid-chop when I called out to him. No sense in startling him and making an emergency room visit, although the thought did play over in my mind. I still couldn’t believe he had blurted out and told his parents about my nosebleeds. I could feel my body start to tense up. Taking a deep breath, I let it go.
    â€œYou know, if you ever quit baseball, I’m sure lumberjacking is in your future.”
    Dean did jump at the sound of my voice. See? Body parts would’ve been flying.
    â€œHoly crap, dude. I’m chopping wood, for goodness’ sake.”
    â€œI know. I waited.”
    Dean shook his head and leaned the axe against a fresh pile of stacked wood. His breathing was heavy, and his words puffed out like a chimney. “What are you doing up there?”
    I shoved myself off the roof