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Today was the math WASL. It was really easy. I played Volleyball all P.E. because it was raining too hard to go outside and play courtball. A really annoying kid named Tyler is in my P.E. class (he's almost as annoying as Dylan.) Before class started, we were fooling around in the gym. One of the guys grabbed a half-full water bottle and chucked it at Tyler from across the gym. it hit him in the face and he was sent to the nurse's office and didn't return. The teachers thought it was horrible, but we all thought it was really funny. rofl

Alright, Chapter one part three. Another long one. We meet Ryan's grandfather (who is a really fun character to write)

Tom popped the trunk, then climbed out, “Need help carrying your stuff in?”

“No,” I walked around to the back and pulled my stuff out. I had only brought a suitcase and a duffel bag, which was kind of sad considering I had packed all my stuff.

“Alright then,” Tom waved and got back in the car, “I see you at school next week!” He waved cheerily before turning around and driving off.

Leaving me to deal with the huge house before me. It wasn’t like it was the largest building I’d ever encountered, I’d seen plenty of skyscrapers, but there was something about it that made it intimidating. Perhaps because I had no clue what would happen when I stepped through the door.

Walking up to the double front doors, I was once again struck by how huge everything was. The door was at least eight feet tall. “Who needs door this big?” I muttered to myself before knocking loudly.

There were a few muffled thumps, and a male voice shouted, “Just a minute!”

A moment later, the door swung inwards to reveal a beheveled-looking older man. He was one of those people whose age seemed indeterminable, but his shoulder-length hair was a silvery-white.

His eyes widened and he gasped, “Ryan? Is that you?”

I nodded, “Uh, yeah.”

Without another word, he grabbed me and hugged me tightly. There were two loud thunks as my luggage hit the porch, and I made a strangled wound.

“Oh, I apologize,” he released me, then picked up both my bags,”My name is John Whitefeather. You, of course, may call me Grandfather.”

“I think I’ll stick with John if that’s alright,” I followed him into the house.

"Of course, that’s fine.” John gestured vaguely with his free hand, “This is my house, and you are welcome into all of it. I’ll show you your room, then we can eat lunch.”

“Right,” I said absently, looking around the house. From the outside, it had looked like it had two stories, but in reality it was one floor with insanely high ceilings.

“Do you actually get T.V. out here?” I asked, looking at the television mounted on the wall of the large living room.

“I do. It’s somewhere around 300 channels, but I don’t watch it very often,” John shrugged and steered me towards a short hallway, “Your room is the first on the left,” He pushed open the door (which easily rivaled the size of the front ones) and we stepped inside.

The room, contrary to the rest of the house, was of a fairly normal size. A king size canopy bed dominated the room. On the wall across from it was an old-style armoire with a dusty mirror in the middle, and a heavy wood desk sat in the far corner with an empty ink bottle and an old quill pen sitting on it.

John dumped my stuff on the bed, prompting a miniature explosion of dust that swirled in the sunbeam coming through the think drapes of the only window.

“I apologize,” He coughed slightly and opened the window, ”I wasn’t expecting you quite so soon and haven’t had the chance to clean up the room.”

“Jeez,” I walked through the room, marveling at how I left darker-blue footprints in the old carpet, “How long has it been since someone lived in here?”

“About 80 years,” John answered, shaking out the drapes, “It was my father’s room when he was a teen.”

I did a quick calculation and frowned, “How old are you, anyway?”

He simply smiled mysteriously, “Old enough. Now come on. I’ll make lunch and then we can get to work on cleaning this room.”