I walk down the halls, my rucksack keeping a slow, steady rhythm against my back. I slide my phone out of my pocket, glancing at the time on it.
Oh. 7:30 already?
I place my phone back in my pocket and slow when I near Mr. Glough’s door. Through the small window in the door, I see four girls standing in front of the class.
We're doing presentations?
I look at the students seated at their desks. Amidst the crowd, a thin girl with deep blue hair sits with an angry expression on her face. Which is strange, because Thalia is never angry. Her icy eyes, a lighter shade than her hair, flick towards me, catching my eye. She always seems to know where I am at all times.Her eyes gather a twinkle and she motions for me to enter the classroom.
I ease the door open and slide inside.
“Well, my name is-” The click of the door cuts the girl off. Mr. Glough’s eyes pierce into mine.
“Sorry, I’m late,” I say. I already know what the expression on his face will be. The corners of his mouth will turn down, his eyebrows will set low over his eyes. Not angry but more tired.
He looks at me, shakes his head, and waves me to my seat. “Come see me after class, Luke.”
I slump to my seat next to Thalia. I hate disappointing Mr. Glough, but I can’t stop my father.
Thalia looks at me. “What happened this morning?”
I shrug and whisper back, “What happens every morning.”
I hate the look she gives me. I hate the looks that anyone gives me when they find out about my father. A pitying look. Like I am some sort of kicked puppy. It makes me clench my hands into fists and my vision narrows. But, as always, I force myself to take deep breaths and open my hands.
I won’t turn into my father.
I gesture towards the four girls at the front of the room, currently trying to talk again. “What’s going on?”
Thalia frowns again. “Those are the new students.”
New students?
I looked at Thalia again, but the stone-cold glare she gave the 4 girls standing in front of the class told me she wasn't joking. “New kids? Seriously? We never get new kids in this god-forsaken town!” My voice rises as I talk and Mr. Glough clears his throat, silencing me.
It’s true. Ashville, Ohio is a tiny town nestled in the mountains. Nothing ever happens here. But when something does occur, it spreads like wildfire. We don’t even have cell towers.
I notice among the faces of my classmates that I am not the only one with uneasy expressions. It seems as if half the class looks nervous, and the other half is excited.
The first girl steps forward. She is tall and thin, with corded muscles running up her arms and legs. Her red hair seems to shimmer as it falls in waves down her back. Her long bangs are swept to cover her left eye. The visible eye is an ash grey color, with flecks of blue. She wears a loose t-shirt and jean shorts. Bruises bloom on her skin, with bandages wrapped around her knuckles.
When she speaks, her voice is no-nonsense and curt. “I’m Taelor.”
She steps back and the next girl steps forward. No, she seems to glide forward, her footsteps eerily silent. She has long, straight midnight purple hair and pale purple eyes. She wears an oversized sweater with leggings and boots, even though it was still 85 degrees in the still hot September weather.
When she speaks, her voice is calm and sophisticated, filling my head with thoughts of libraries and nights spent studying. “My name is Lizzie.”
As she glides back, the third girl shuffles forward.
Her pastel pink hair is up in two spiky side buns. Her eyes are silver with a greyish tinge to them and her cheeks are rosy.
She has a throw over cardigan on over a simple black t-shirt and jean shorts. A large infinity scarf tops off the look.
When she speaks, I barely catch the words. “I’m Kacy.”
As she retreats, the fourth girl bounces forward.
She is not even five feet tall and has a bubbly personality. Her hair barely skims her shoulders and is black that fades into turquoise. Her right eye is covered by a medical eye patch, her remaining eye is a turquoise to match her hair.
She wears a cropped, baby blue hoodie, though the hood itself was black. I notice a pair of fuzzy cat or dog ears poking through the hood, though I couldn’t tell if they were part of the hood or a separate accessory.
When she opens her mouth to speak, I see her elongated canine teeth that had to be at least an inch long. The sight of them sends a shiver down my spine. Her bright, clear voice rings out in the classroom, “I’m Mai and I’m super excited to meet all of you!”
I hear Thalia mutter beside me, “Damn child smells like wet dog…”
I glance at her from the corner of my eye, confused.
Mr. Glough attempts to smile, but it ends up looking like a wince. “Go ahead and sit in an empty seat.” He gestures at the class.
The four of them walk forward and they take seats scattered around the room.
I notice a kid in front of Kacy, who is seated in front of me, turn around. “I like what you did with your hair. The brown into blond is cool.”
She smiles and mutters a quick, “Thank you.”
I lean forward, tapping her shoulder, and the kid turns back around. She faces me, a curious look in those shimmering eyes.
I whisper, “Why did he think your hair was brown?”
A panicked look enters her eyes. “Be-Because it is!” For someone with a slow, quiet voice, she spoke rushed.
I frown. “No, it’s pink.”
She says shortly, “It’s brown.” She then turns around, ending our conversation.
I sit back, confused. Am I going insane?
~
Mr. Glough approaches the whiteboard. The few conversations that are spattered around the room cease immediately. We are all excited about this class.
“Today, we will be going backward.”
Backward? I grin. Of course! It’s history!
He continues, “I apologize for this, but I forgot to teach one of the most important topics during our mythology unit.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Mai squirm in her seat, then wince in pain. She seems unable to find a comfortable position.
“We all know the difference between right and wrong. Good and bad. Though,” he grins, “sometimes those lines blur together.” We all chuckle.
“In everyday life, these two characteristics clash. Police and criminals. Priest and sinner. Even our thought process battles over right and wrong.
“It is said that towards the beginning of time, there was a great war between the two. Mortals, angels, monsters, all fought each other and together. There were angels fighting the righteous and monsters fighting the bloodthirsty. And of course, mortals mixed in.”
He takes a breath. “This lasted for many years. And it is still going on, just on a much smaller scale. Legend has it that there will be another great war just like it. The first war shook the world and the second one will do the same, perhaps more so.”
A voice pipes up. “We should all hope that it won’t be in our lifetimes.”
We all look at Taelor, surprised by her outburst.
Mr. Glough asks, “Why do you say that, Taelor?”
She shrugs. “Everyday, people are hurt because of police and criminals. The first war caused thousands upon thousands to die. The destruction was monumental.”
She glances at me and I frown.
She’s talking about it as if the war were real.
A strange look enters her eye.
“At least, so the story says,” she adds after a moment of hesitation.
Mr. Glough smiles, “Well, good thing it is just a myth.”
We all nod in agreement.
Taelor shrugs once more before slouching down in her seat.
I sit forward, eager for more.
He continues, “That is all I had planned for today.”
A groan slips from my mouth, joining the chorus of my classmates.“But,” he holds up a finger. “You do have homework.”
Strange, we rarely have homework.
He turns and writes the assignment on the board.
“Your homework is to write a short story on the war. All the information must be correct. And trust me, I will be checking.”
He turns back to us, “This is due by next Friday. You will be graded on creativity, the factual evidence, and the presentation.”
Someone raises their hand, “A presentation?”
He nods, “Yes. You will be reading these out to the whole class.”
The class lets out another collective groan.
Mr. Glough smiles, “Go ahead and started.”
A few conversations start up, but I dig my binder, eager to start. Thalia turns around and smiles, “Want to work together?”
I look up, pulling out a pen and a sheet of paper, “This is an individual project, Thalia.”
She purses her lips and turns around with a “hmph”. I look down and begin writing.
~
After class I slowly pack my things until everyone is out of the room, then I head to Mr. Glough’s desk.
“Mr. Glough?” I ask.
He looks up. Then he crosses his arms and leans back in his chair. “Why were you late today, Luke?”
I look down at my shoes. I can’t tell him. I can’t stand seeing that look again.
“I didn’t want to come, sir.”
He frowns. "Is there something wrong Luke?"
I feel a lump form in my throat. The last thing I want is your pity. "No Mr. Glough, nothing's wrong."
He sighs. "Well, since nothing's wrong I'll give you a choice. I either give you detention for your repeat tardiness, or you act as a guide for the new students."
I look up at that. “I can’t do either.”
He quirks an eyebrow. “Why not?”
Shit… “Because...I don’t want to.”
He shrugs. “I don’t want you being late. Your going to help them. And that’s final.” He turns around to his file cabinet, leaving no room for argument. I sigh and turn, leaving the room.
I walk into the courtyard of the school, where the rest of the students gather to socialize after school. The courtyard is a square of open space that is surrounded on three sides by the school. On the fourth side, it is open to the street and parking lots. In the middle of the courtyard, is a large maple tree on a small patch of grass. Many kids usually sit under the tree, but with the four new students there, the tree has a wide berth.
It was almost picturesque seeing the four of them laughing under that tree. They seemed so close to each other.
Like sisters.
Like family.
I bit my cheek.
Everyone you love will get hurt.
The words screamed inside my head. Was it my own voice? Or was it his?
I take a deep breath and walk towards them.
When Taelor sees me, her feminine smile vanishes.
“What do you want?” she asks.
I frown at her roughness. “Mr. Glough told me to be a guide for you.”
Mai peeks her head from around Lizzie’s back. “A guide? A guide for what?”
I look at her. “I will show you around the school, help you get into a routine, and answer any questions you may have, I guess.”
A voice pipes up behind me. “I have a question.”
I look over my shoulder to see Thalia. “Oh. Hey Thal.”
She smiles sweetly at me, then turns her dazzling smile to the other girls, it suddenly dripping with venom. “Why have you come to our cozy little town?”
Lizzie and Kacy look at each other and Taelor crosses her arms. She returns Thalia’s smile with one of her own, promising pain and hell to come. “We heard you were here. We wanted to rekindle our friendship.”
Thalia’s smile turns into a frown and she turns to me, ignoring Taelor. I see Taelor clench her jaw. “Luke,” Thalia flutters her eyelashes and grins, “were you going to leave without me?”
“No.” I say.
Mai shifts out further from behind Lizzie, drawing Thalia’s attention.
A look of disgust crosses her features. “Who brought the child?”
Something I can only describe as a growl rumbles from deep within Mai’s throat.
Thalia grins smugly, “There are people allergic to dogs here.” A snarl is Mai’s response.
Kacy opens her mouth to say something, but I beat her to it. “Thalia, back off.”
I see Kacy subtly reach into her cardigan pocket, grabbing something.
Thalia replies sweetly, “Not until someone gets the mutt out of here.”
Mai snaps. She lunges at Thalia, hands outstretched, baring those long incisors. Taelor grabs Mai around her middle, mid air, stopping her hands from wrapping around Thalia’s neck.
While Taelor struggles with Mai, Kacy pulls a syringe filled with a murky red liquid from her pocket. She grabs Mai’s arm, stabs the syringe into her vein, and shoots the liquid into her bloodstream.
Slowly, Mai calms. By the time that the syringe is empty, Mai has fallen into a deep slumber.
I look at the students around the courtyard, and no one looks concerned by the scene.
Kacy pulls the syringe out, tosses it aside, then proceeds to stop the small puncture from bleeding.
Taelor stands, whirls to face Thalia, and slaps her across the right cheek with a sharp crack! Thalia stumbles back, shocked. The muscles in Taelor’s arm make the powerful blow glow bright red.
I notice Lizzie leaning against the tree, eyes closed, a light sheen of sweat coating her face. She didn’t seem at all bothered by the scene that was finishing up unfolding.
Taelor’s loud voice causes me to jump, “Shut up! Even she”- she points at Mai - “is a higher rank than you!”
Thalia clenches her jaw, “She is a freak! She isn’t even pureblooded!”
“At least her blood is cleaner than that of a siren’s!”
Thalia gapes then closes her mouth. “Whatever,” she says, “Come on, Luke.”
She pulls my arm and I’m too shocked to put up a fight.
As we walk away, I glance over my shoulder.
Taelor picks up Mai, tossing her over a shoulder. Kacy and Lizzie follow behind as the three of them walk away.
I’m snapped to reality by Thalia sniffling, “I can’t believe she hit me… And then the drug addict…” She shudders and looks at me, her eyes large and rounded. “We need to tell the principal, Luke.” I stay silent.
~
I jingle the keys in my hand as I walk up the steps and take a deep breath.On the outside, the house looks like any other family home. A tree in the green yard, a red door, bright paint, and not a single piece of trash.
But once you enter, everything changes.
The moment I opened the door, the stench of stale alcohol hits me like a wall.There are empty beer bottles and junk food wrappers everywhere. The blackout curtains are drawn, so the room is dark.
My father is passed out on the sofa, television droning on about a football game.
I set my bag down, take the keys from the lock, and shut the door on the outside world.
Stuffing the keys into the pocket of my jeans, I walk towards the kitchen. I open the fridge, determined to get something to eat. I blink in surprise.
The only thing in the refrigerator is two, twelve-packs of beer and moldy leftovers.
I shut the door with a sound of disgust and pull my phone out of my back pocket.
Delivery it is, then.
I look at my father, phone still in hand, and sigh.
He’s disgusting.
He’s pathetic.
He’s all I have, I realize.
I sigh again. I need some time to myself.
I duck into my room, and walk over to my bookshelf.
My room is neat, at least neater than the rest of the house. My bed is made and there isn’t anything on the floor. It is the one room that I feel safe in and that’s because my dad isn’t able to enter it.
There on the shelf is a small, wooden box with engravings on it. My mother gave it to me for my seventh birthday, right before she died. I keep memories of her in it, along with the small saving amount of money.
Every month, I add some more to the box. Eventually, I will have enough to escape. Now, I grab a couple of bills from the neat roll and close the box again, sliding it behind the books on my shelf. It was the last thing of my mom’s that father hasn’t burned or sold for beer money.
I then exit my room, locking it behind me, and stoop down to pick up my bag.
Just as I am heading towards the front door, a noise comes from my father.
I freeze. He slowly sits up, his foggy eyes searching around. When they land on me and my bag, his cloudy eyes immediately clear and harden.
He slurs, “Where… Where ya goin’ boy…?”
I hesitate before responding, “I'm going to work, Dad.”
Then he yells, “Don’t lie to me!” He lurches to his feet.
I take a step back and my bag slides from my shoulder to the floor. “I’m not lying to you, Dad. Please, just… Calm down…”
He then rushes at me with more speed that a drunk man should have. Beer bottles topple over as he knocks them, screaming, “You’re leaving me! You’re leaving me just like your mother left!”
I stumble back, yelling, “Dad, Mom is dead! I’m not leaving, I told you, I - “
Smack!
He slaps me, cutting me off. The powerful blow split my lip and blood rushes out of the wound. “Shut up!” he yells “I will teach you to try and leave!”
He then plants a fist in my gut, forcing air to whoosh out of my lungs. Then he grabs a fistful of my collar and punches me.461Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ4dcU0KJdSH
Punch. The blow lands on my jaw.461Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡE7B0zZa01U
Punch. My cheek.
CRACK! The blow shatters my nose and blood flows freely.
A final punch to the jaw and he lets go, letting me fall backwards. I hit my head hard against the tile, a fingertip length from the front door.
The last thing I see is my father sobbing.
The last thing I hear are my father’s words. “I love you, son.”
Then black.
ns 15.158.61.46da2
