Hunters

one

“I know what you mean.” She smiled at me before continuing. “Well, here is your schedule. I’ll give you a note for each of your teachers should you be late to class.”

“Thank you...” I glanced at her desk and read the nameplate. “Ms. Robbins.”

“My pleasure. You’re welcome to come and talk to me anytime you need to.”

I smiled weakly as I gathered my things and exited the room. The next kid bumped into me on his way to her office and sneered down at me as I mumbled my apologies. I left the guidance center and walked right out into the flow of students. As I stepped off to the side, I looked down at the schedule I was clutching in my hands.

My eyes scanned the classes and saw that I had U.S. History honors first period. The class was in room B304. I looked up at the hallway I stood outside of and noted that it was labeled as the A200s. Someone bumped into me from behind and I started to fall before they grabbed my arm and pulled me back to a standstill.

“I’m so sorry!” A voice gushed and I looked up to see the redhead from my bus. “I didn’t mean to run you over. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” I answered.

“Good!” She glanced down at the schedule in my hands and smiled at me. “Lost?” She snatched it and looked it over in one swift moment before handing it back.

“Um, yeah. I don’t know how to get to-”

“History, I know. It’s okay, we have the same class and then I have the Bio class next to yours afterwards.” She stuck her hand out and smiled even wider. “My name’s Grace.”

“Willow.” I shook her hand then folded my schedule and shoved it into my back pocket.

The bell rung loudly and I followed Grace as she wove her way through the crowd and up the stairs. We  walked into our classroom and she dragged me to the back, sitting in the seat in front of mine. I dropped my backpack on the ground and winced as my bruised hip protested against the many folders and bags that I’d run into on the way to history.

“So, Willow,” Grace spun in her seat to face me, her bright green eyes shining with curiosity. “What’s your story? How’d you end up here of all places?”

My hands fisted in my lap as I thought back to my father, my eyes dropping down to my desk. She watched me silently, unaware of my emotional turmoil. As I opened my mouth to tell her the story I’d made up in case that exact question was asked, the second bell rang, signaling the start of class. The teacher dove immediately into a lecture, forcing Grace to turn back around and start scribbling frantically to take notes. After the first few minutes of trying to keep up, I realized that the teacher was repeating himself and I resigned myself to doodles in the margins of my notebook.

I turned to a fresh page and started drawing in earnest. A mountain range appeared on the paper, trees covering the base of it and as I used my pencil to shade it in, the scene appeared to pop up off the page. I got lost in the workings of my pencil, totally oblivious to what I was drawing until a soft gasp had me looking up at Grace’s stunned face.

“Oh my god, Willow. That’s amazing, yet really horrific.” She looked back up at my face warily and shook her head before turning back around to face the board.

I lowered my eyes to my paper. The mountain range still decorated the background of the drawing, but what appeared to be a war was in the forefront, holding the attention of the picture. At a closer look, I realized that it was actually a bunch of monsters tearing through human defenses, eating at some of their victims. I dropped my pencil and gaped in horror at my notebook.