The Eiru Circle - The Evil Eye

1 - Never Walk Past a Political Rally Held by Crows and Grey Magpies

"It-Is-Not‑A-Good-Day," I snapped, glaring at the hulking idiot in front of me.

Third year of secondary school, small eyes, big body—about a head and a half taller than me.

The kind of person a fifteen‑year‑old girl should never pick a fight with.

Which, technically, I hadn't picked the fight.

Not first.

Anyway.

He belonged to the usual pack of losers—good for nothing but stripping shirts, throwing punches, and being punchbags for me, Maud O'Bride.

Every so often they liked to bother the smaller kids when I was nearby, or worse, try to peek at my chronic conjunctivitis.

If I'd been wearing a medical patch for three years, there had to be a reason, right?

Apparently not, as far as they were concerned.

"Why's that? Does your eye hurt that much?" he mocked, while his two mates closed in behind me.

I rolled my petrol‑blue iris up to the sky: their routine was always the same. Did they really think they could catch me off guard?

"Again: it's not a good day," I said, holding myself back from throwing the first punch.

I'd made that mistake before; it was the perfect way to end up in the wrong. And I wasn't about to do that again.

"Maybe this'll be the time we finally see that nasty eye of yours," he sneered, then looked at his mates. "Boys, grab her."

They lunged. The one on the right had started a beat earlier, but the left one had always been the faster of the two.

They were going to hit me at the same time—a tactic they'd oddly never used before.

Looks like the losers had been studying. Too bad their aim was as terrible as ever.

They crashed into each other beside me, one on top of the other, and I watched them with bored interest.

"Nice try," I said. "But if you miss your trajectory, it doesn't work."

One of them reached for my ankle and missed by a few millimetres.

"No way!" one of the three shouted—who it was didn't matter—"How do you dodge so fast!?"

"I don't dodge. You just suck," I shrugged and started to walk away. "Now, if you don't mind, I should—"

I ducked instinctively, avoiding the big one's grab from behind, then sprang back and sent him sprawling with a shove.

"We're done—" one of the others tried to land a punch at my ribs, which I deflected without much effort. "Apparently not," I cracked my knuckles. "Alright then: want a fight? You'll get a fight... hey!"

Someone lifted me off the ground.

Sometimes one of them managed to get hold of me; the hard part was keeping me down.

"Come on, don't be difficult, it's only an eye," he said as one of his mates leaned in toward my face.

I headbutted him, forcing him back, then shoved another elbow to break free.

"Your mother is only an eye!" I snapped, furious.

As I'd said: not a good day to mess with me.

I'd been woken by a deafening cawing of crows outside my window—big black birds that had followed me all the way to school, perching and watching me from the outside.