The Paladin Prophecy

#1: THE IMPORTANCE OF AN ORDERLY MIND.

In capital letters a foot high. Rule #1 on Dad’s List of Rules to Live By. That’s how crucial his father considered this piece of advice. Remembering it was one thing. Following Rule #1, with a mind as hot-wired as Will’s, wasn’t nearly as easy. But wasn’t that why Dad had put it on top of his list, and on Will’s wall, in the first place?

Will rolled out of bed and stretched. Flicked on his iPhone: 7:01. He punched up the calendar and scanned his schedule. Tuesday, November 7:

• Morning roadwork with the cross-country team

• Day forty-seven of sophomore year

• Afternoon roadwork with the cross-country team

Nice. Two runs sandwiching seven hours of Novocain for the brain. Will took a greedy breath and scratched his fingers vigorously through his unruly bed head. Tuesday, November 7, shaped up as a vanilla, cookie-cutter day. Not one major stress clouding the horizon.

So why do I feel like I’m about to face a firing squad?

He triple-racked his brain but couldn’t find a reason. As he threw on his sweats, the room lit up with a bright, cheerful sunrise. Southern California’s most tangible asset: the best weather in the world. Will opened the curtains and looked out at the Topa Topa Mountains rising beyond the backyard.

Wow. The mountains were cloaked with snow from the early winter storm that had blown through the night before. Backlit by the early-morning sun, they were sharper and cleaner than high-def. He heard familiar birdsong and saw the little white-breasted blackbird touch down on a branch outside his window. Tilting its head, curious and fearless, it peered in at him as it had every morning for the last few days. Even the birds were feeling it.

So I’m fine. It’s all good.

But if that was how he really felt, then what had stirred up this queasy cocktail of impending doom? The hangover from a forgotten nightmare?

An unruly thought elbowed its way into his mind: This storm brought more than snow.

What? No idea what that meant—wait, had he dreamt about snow? Something about running? The silvery dream fragment faded before Will could grab it.

Whatever. Enough of this noise. Time to stonewall this funk-u-phoria. Will drove through the rest of his morning routine and skipped downstairs.

Mom was in the kitchen working on her second coffee. With reading glasses on a lanyard around her thick black hair, she was tapping her phone, organizing her day.

Will grabbed a power shake from the fridge. “Our bird’s back,” he said.

“Hmm. People-watching again,” she said. She put down her phone and wrapped her arms around him. Mom never passed up a good hug. One of those committed huggers for whom, in the moment, nothing else mattered. Not even Will’s mortification when she clinch-locked him in public.

“Busy day?” he asked.

“Crazy. Like stupid crazy. You?”

“The usual. Have a good one. Later, Moms.”

“Later, Will-bear. Love you.” She jangled her silver bracelets and got back to her phone as Will headed for the door. “Always and forever.”

“Love you, too.”

Later, and not much later, how he would wish that he’d stopped, gone back, held on to her, and never let go.

Will reached the base of their front steps and shook out his legs. Sucked in that first bracing hit of clean, cold morning air and exhaled a frosty billow, ready to run. It was his favorite part of the day … and then that droopy dreadful gloom crept all over him again.

OceanofPDF.com