Home of a mother, wife, writer

Continuing today with the next chapter of Into the Sun. Have you read the previous chapters yet? If not, you can catch up first. Now, here’s the beginning of Chapter 5:

By my second day as a prospective member of the Riders of Justice, I started to regret my decision. I hadn’t realized what being a prospect meant. Kitchen duty, washing all the bikes, cleaning bathrooms. Pretty much whatever grunt work the full members wanted to assign to me.

For the first time, I felt like I belonged. I was greeted like a brother, like a nephew. Like a son.

Icarus was usually waiting when I came down for breakfast. There was always a chair waiting for me with them. The first day, he took me for a ride, showing me the local landmarks so I’d always be able to find my way back, even when I went out on my own. I realized we weren’t that far from home. I must have taken a winding route when I’d first left. It would only take about an hour to get there on my bike.

And there was Birdie. Always there, keeping up a conversation while I did whatever tasks had been assigned to me for that day, even when I didn’t feel like talking. She had enough words for both of us. She also seemed to sense when I needed silence.

When the chores were finished, she climbed on my bike, and we went riding. Icarus was upset the first time we came back. She, once again, told him she was an adult. His protest seemed to be more for appearance sake, because he smiled when he turned away.

I gritted my teeth through the worst of the tasks. I kept my mind focused on it. On what becoming a member could mean. More than just a place to stay. A family, a cause, a place to belong. I’d never belonged before.

Just possibly, justice for mom. And me.

Six months. I had to do this for six months before the members voted on me, or I earned my way in. Then, maybe I could bring up the idea of getting Mom away. I hoped it wouldn’t be too late for that.

I wiped the last of the moisture from one of the other member’s, Smoke, bike before something wet nailed me right in the back. I cried out and turned as I heard Birdie laugh. Her laugh always did something to me. I still reached down toward the bucket as I turned. When I came back up the sponge was already flying out of my hand.

Her laugh cut off when it hit her below the shoulder. Suds ran down her arm and chest. My mouth went dry as my gaze followed the path of some as it ran along the edge of her bikini top.

“Oh, that does it,” she said, but she dropped the hose.

She dunked the sponge into the bucket again. I only had time to think oh no then it sailed back to me. It hit me right in the center of the chest, and she started laughing again.

I loved that sound so much.

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