White Dragon (Mavi)

Chapter 2

My numb fingers wrapped around the paper cup and leeched from its warmth. I shivered against the cold and brought the latte to my lips, sighing when I felt the liquid warm my whole body. I shouldn't really complain about the cold, though -- it helped numb my swollen cheek.

"That's going to bruise black and blue, dear," Kirstie murmured. She was wrapped around her own cup for warmth. "You'll need to cover it up."

"With what?" My teeth chattered and Scott brought his arm around my shoulders again. I bit my lip and smiled into the lid of my coffee - the idiot wasn't even wearing a jacket and he was still warm. "It's not like a cashier would be caught dead selling a teenage boy makeup. They'd be whipped in front of the whole town."

She huffed out an exasperated sigh. "I'll let you use mine again, Mitchy," she said, shuffling through her purse with one hand. "Promise me you'll stop getting into fights?"

She handed me the tube of tan colored concealer and I froze. Her eyes sparkled as she nudged it towards me, and my stomach twisted in guilt. "I promise, Kirst," I whispered and wrapped my numb fingers around the tube. "For you."

"Well, I guess I'm chopped liver now!" Scott whimpered in a tone that made me want to wipe that stupid grin off his face. "You won't do it for me but you'll do it for her? I'm offended."

"Shut up," she bit back. "You're not losing your favorite bottle of concealer over it."

He shrugged and patted my shoulder "But your parents love you too much. They'll get you another one."

I smiled when Kirstie blushed into her coffee. Her relationship with her parents was honestly something I couldn't describe -- she absolutely adored them.

"Hey, as much as I love aimlessly walking around downtown," I said -- which was true -- "do you think we could start heading home? It's 20 degrees out here and I have homework."

"Mitch, it's not even that cold," Scott said while tightening his grip on me. "It's like 50 degrees, not 20."

"You're not even wearing a jacket. Therefore, you're mentally unstable and your opinion doesn't count," I huffed, before taking another sip of my latte.

Scott opened his mouth to reply, but he was interrupted by the crackling of the overhead speaker.

All citizens currently residing in the Town Square are required to head to the gallows for a public whipping.

Kirstie whined. "That's why I hate coming down here. This always happens."

"Whoever it is probably doesn't even deserve it," Scott grumbled under his breath before leading us into the crowd that was headed for Town Square. I hated it too. It was always hard to watch someone forced down to their knees and whipped -- And I felt like I was making things worse by watching.

My stomach did a flip when I saw the boy who was about to be punished. He couldn't be much older than us, and his hair was styled almost exactly the same way as Scott's. They'd already stripped him of his shirt and tied his hands in front of him -- his eyes were red and puffy, and he was shaking like a leaf.

"This boy was caught kissing another male!" An officer shouted, spinning a whip in his hand. He inched closer to the boy with each crunch of his dirty combat boot. I stiffened when Scott slowly dropped his arm from around my shoulders. "Let this be a message to everyone who feels the urge to participate in homoerotic tendencies!"

He kicked the back of the boy's knees and he yelped as he fell to the ground. The officer raised his whip, and I squeezed my eyes shut. That could've been me. That would've been me if they saw Scott with his arm around me.

Instead of the crack of a whip, I heard a long whistle.

I pried my eyes open and saw a man decked from head to toe in black emerge from the crowd. His black leather jacket was worn, and my heart caught in my throat when I saw what was painted on the back.

A white dragon, lined with an emerald green.

"Rebels," I whispered to no one in particular.

He whistled the same note from behind his mask, and three more people in black hoodies followed behind.

Two more men bled from the crowd and went to help the boy to his feet when I felt Scott tug at my arm. "Mitch! Let's go!"

My breath hitched when the man whistling got punched square in the jaw.

"Mitchell Coby Grassi!" Scott shouted in my ear. "Let's go!"

Scott finally tugged me away, but not after I saw the man leap back up and tackle the officer down to the ground.

***

I groaned and rubbed my eyes -- If the glaring clock next to my bed was any indicator, it was now 12:13 AM and chemistry wasn't getting any easier as time went on. I threw my book off my lap in frustration; I'll just copy Scott tomorrow morning.

Besides, it was hard to even focus after what happened. I couldn't get that man's jacket out of my mind, and the way he completely tanked that punch. I didn't want to admit it, but... It was pretty selfless. I couldn't help but feel a bit of admiration in my heart for him.

Mitch, they're Rebels. What are you on about?

I hopped to my feet and stretched, my back groaning and popping in protest. I padded to the window to close it -- it was starting to get pretty cold in my room, and everyone knew that I was very sensitive to the cold.

My blood turned to ice when I heard a crash from below. I gripped the window sill and steadied my breathing, because the last thing I needed right now was an anxiety attack. It was probably just a raccoon, right? Yeah, a raccoon. I started to slide the window when I heard another crash.

"Fuck," someone whispered.

I gulped. That definitely wasn't a raccoon.

I squeezed my eyes shut and weighed my options. Now, the sensible thing to do here would be to go wake up my parents and tell them that there's a fucking intruder. But, then they'd know that I was up past midnight, and I'd get in more trouble than this asshole was worth. Or, I could call the police. That would make the most sense. Or I could just shut my window and pretend this never happened.

For some reason, my chest tightened at that one. I don't like being helpless.

"Dammit, Mitch," I whispered to myself and snatched the flashlight on my nightstand. "You're gonna get yourself killed."

I tiptoed down the stairs and slid open the glass door. I flipped the switch on my flashlight, but when it didn't turn on, I shook it. It still didn't turn on. I whined in defeat. "Stupid thing."

I blinked my eyes a few times to adjust to the dark, but I still couldn't see anything. "Hello?" I called out. The cold nipped at the bottom of my heels, but I stepped forwards anyways. "Is there anybody out there?"

I felt my feet crunch against something on the concrete, so I squinted my eyes to focus. I frowned -- it was my mother's favorite pot of tulips. I felt the hairs on the back of my neck raise and my stomach twist in fear. Shit.

I turned around just in time to feel a hand clamp over my mouth and a knife press into my throat.

***

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