Read Online Chill by Colin Frizzell - Free Book Online
Authors: Colin Frizzell
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Chapter One
Chillâs foot dragged behind him like a murder victim being taken to a shallow grave by a killer too weak to do the job, but he still stood straighter than any other kid in school.
His presence far exceeded his wiry five-foot-nine, fifteen-year-old body. Chillâs size didnât matter because he was fast, and the speed was made twice as powerful because no one expected it from a guy with a bum leg.
He held his head high and no one made fun of him. Well, except for that one kid.
It was back in grade five. He was a big guy, new to Glendale Elementary. Kids are like wolves when they arrive at a new school; they look for the weakest in the pack and try to take âem down. Thisâthey hopeâwill get them the much-needed acceptance of the pack. You canât survive in school on your own.
It was the first recess and the new kid, Shane or Wayne, something like that, spotted Chill. Once he saw Chillâs leg, he made his move.
âHey, hop-a-long,â he called out, though Chill didnât hop. Hopping would have meant he was trying to appear normal, and Chill didnât try to be anything but what he was, and what he was, was Chill.
âHop-a-long,â the kid yelled out again.
Chill stopped. He shook his head like heâd been waiting for it. Like somehow he knew, from the moment he laid eyes on this kid, that it was going to come to this.
He sighed and turned but didnât say anything.
Chill wasnât much of a talker. He didnât have to be. His sharp eyes and multitude of expressions could speak volumes. On the other hand, I was a talker and often spoke for Chill.
âWhat do you want?â I said, sticking close to Chillâs side.
âIâm not talking to you. Iâm talking to Hoppy here,â he said, nodding at Chill.
âI donât think he wants to talk to you,â I told him.
âWhatâs the matter?â he said. âHis tongue as dead as his leg?â
The kid laughed. He looked around, hoping others would join him. No one did. He turned back to Chill.
âSo what happened? Your leg fall asleep in class and you couldnât wake it up?â he laughed again and looked around againânothing.
The lameness of the attempted jokes aside, he should have picked up on the lack of reaction from the crowd. He shouldhave realized that no one appreciated what he was doing and that
this
wasnât going to gain him any friends.
Chill shook his head and turned to walk away.
âWhere do you think youâre going?â the kid asked. âNowhere fast, thatâs for sure,â he added.
As Chill walked away, so did everyone else.
The new kid was losing his audience. He grabbed Chill by the shoulder and spun him around. Chill lost his balance.
I went to catch him, but he caught himself before I could and straightened up proudly. Chill stared at the kid with a warning glare that would have made anyone with a lick of sense back off. This kid was not good at picking up on subtleties.
âYou shouldnât walk away when people are talking to you,â the kid threatened. âDidnât your mom teach you that? Or did she give up teaching you anything when she saw you couldnât even learn to walk?â
It took a lot for Chill to lose his cool, but it was definitely going. He turned away again. This time the kid swung Chill back around with all he had, determined to take him down.
But Chill was ready. He didnât so much spin as pirouette, with his bad leg swinging like a club.
Chill only meant to sweep his attackerâs legs out from under him, but the kid had stiffened his leg so he could get the full momentum in his pull. When Chillâs leg connected with the kidâs knee, it gave a sickening pop that made everyone in the yard stiffen. The kid dropped like a gummy bear from the ceiling after the saliva dries.
Despite the pain, the kid tried to get to his feet to save face, but he could only
Chillâs foot dragged behind him like a murder victim being taken to a shallow grave by a killer too weak to do the job, but he still stood straighter than any other kid in school.
His presence far exceeded his wiry five-foot-nine, fifteen-year-old body. Chillâs size didnât matter because he was fast, and the speed was made twice as powerful because no one expected it from a guy with a bum leg.
He held his head high and no one made fun of him. Well, except for that one kid.
It was back in grade five. He was a big guy, new to Glendale Elementary. Kids are like wolves when they arrive at a new school; they look for the weakest in the pack and try to take âem down. Thisâthey hopeâwill get them the much-needed acceptance of the pack. You canât survive in school on your own.
It was the first recess and the new kid, Shane or Wayne, something like that, spotted Chill. Once he saw Chillâs leg, he made his move.
âHey, hop-a-long,â he called out, though Chill didnât hop. Hopping would have meant he was trying to appear normal, and Chill didnât try to be anything but what he was, and what he was, was Chill.
âHop-a-long,â the kid yelled out again.
Chill stopped. He shook his head like heâd been waiting for it. Like somehow he knew, from the moment he laid eyes on this kid, that it was going to come to this.
He sighed and turned but didnât say anything.
Chill wasnât much of a talker. He didnât have to be. His sharp eyes and multitude of expressions could speak volumes. On the other hand, I was a talker and often spoke for Chill.
âWhat do you want?â I said, sticking close to Chillâs side.
âIâm not talking to you. Iâm talking to Hoppy here,â he said, nodding at Chill.
âI donât think he wants to talk to you,â I told him.
âWhatâs the matter?â he said. âHis tongue as dead as his leg?â
The kid laughed. He looked around, hoping others would join him. No one did. He turned back to Chill.
âSo what happened? Your leg fall asleep in class and you couldnât wake it up?â he laughed again and looked around againânothing.
The lameness of the attempted jokes aside, he should have picked up on the lack of reaction from the crowd. He shouldhave realized that no one appreciated what he was doing and that
this
wasnât going to gain him any friends.
Chill shook his head and turned to walk away.
âWhere do you think youâre going?â the kid asked. âNowhere fast, thatâs for sure,â he added.
As Chill walked away, so did everyone else.
The new kid was losing his audience. He grabbed Chill by the shoulder and spun him around. Chill lost his balance.
I went to catch him, but he caught himself before I could and straightened up proudly. Chill stared at the kid with a warning glare that would have made anyone with a lick of sense back off. This kid was not good at picking up on subtleties.
âYou shouldnât walk away when people are talking to you,â the kid threatened. âDidnât your mom teach you that? Or did she give up teaching you anything when she saw you couldnât even learn to walk?â
It took a lot for Chill to lose his cool, but it was definitely going. He turned away again. This time the kid swung Chill back around with all he had, determined to take him down.
But Chill was ready. He didnât so much spin as pirouette, with his bad leg swinging like a club.
Chill only meant to sweep his attackerâs legs out from under him, but the kid had stiffened his leg so he could get the full momentum in his pull. When Chillâs leg connected with the kidâs knee, it gave a sickening pop that made everyone in the yard stiffen. The kid dropped like a gummy bear from the ceiling after the saliva dries.
Despite the pain, the kid tried to get to his feet to save face, but he could only
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