Faetality |✓|

1.3 //Lights Out//

In the Village, the skies are usually overcast and the sea brings fog and drizzle inland. Some months I can't go anywhere without an umbrella in my bag. But rain or shine, the beach is always a vibe. It's practically in my backyard; from my window-seat I loved to watch the waves from a distance - sometimes green during the day, usually gray at night.

Harbor Village High was near the bluffs by the sea. Teachers who were nice opened the windows on request; you could smell the salty breeze and almost taste the cool spray. We were never allowed on the cliffs, but on a clear day, students could sit on the sprawling grounds, eating lunch while we watched the waves. With its pointed, baronial towers and balcony-lined turrets, the renovated school was a blast from medieval times. You couldn't count the rectangular windows in the five flights of gray stone, but some days it felt like they watched you...

Rounding a corner down an empty hallway, my steps echoed in my ears. Slipping my earphones in place, I listened to Angèle instead, trying not to think about what happened in my room last night, or the angels in the graveyard, their gray-blue heads turning as I passed...

Today the school seemed draftier; the stone walls and the banisters of the polished mahogany stairs felt frozen in my hands. Even the people seemed cold and distant; someone bumped my shoulder as they passed, looking right through me. But deep down I knew nothing was wrong with them. Something was wrong with me.

Was I going crazy? Was I losing my mind, like my mother? After the things I had seen last night and this morning, and the weird advice from the oddest girl in school, I was really starting to wonder.

The crowd was thinning - first period was starting soon and I couldn't be late. Mr. Mangal was a stickler for punctuality. As he had proved to Darby Quentin last month on her birthday, he didn't care what day it was. Miss the first bell and you'd spend the afternoon with him in detention, scraping gum from under the desk as he drilled you with biology questions.

The five minute bell rang as I glanced in the tiny magnetized mirror hung on my locker door. I checked my reflection, sighing forlornly at the long jet curls that refused to stay in place.

Back home were stacks of photo albums to prove I was a James, but I never felt less like one of the family than when I looked in a mirror. Dad and Margot had tame, sun-bleached hair and sun-kissed skin - and pretty blue eyes that were sometimes a mischievous green. So having deep brown skin and gray eyes meant wherever we went as a family, I was always the odd girl out, often mistaken for a family friend. But my looks weren't all that separated me from everyone else...

I never got pimples, my pores were the size of needle heads, and Margot lamented all the time about the bright and healthy glow of my skin. I never woke up with sleep in my eyes; my hair was shiny even if I didn't wash it. I'd never broken a bone or gotten sick - not even a cold. In fact, I couldn't remember the last time I had sneezed, much less suffered a cut or scrape. Last year I fell from the top of the pyramid during cheerleading, felt my neck crack, and walked away like it was nothing. And I could eat my weight in pizza every night and the pyramid would never know.

Some days I felt invincible. Some days I hated feeling different.

The lights in the hallway flickered. Hearing the wires shorting out, seeing sparks rain from the ceiling, I glanced around in a panic. No one seemed to notice but me.

"What is this?"

The lights dimmed once again. Suddenly, the hallway was deserted.

Stepping away from my locker, I searched for signs of life. Where did everyone go?

My heart beat triple time in my chest. The rest of me was frozen. "Hello? I-is anyone there? Hello?"

This time the lights went out completely.