Omens (wattys2016)

One.

"Omera, Omera are you even listening to me?" Daphne demands, her freakishly high pitched voice breaking its way into my thoughts. I blink, staring blankly at her. She sighs dramatically, flipping her long blonde hair over her shoulder.

"Ugh, I swear, sometimes I can't even remember why we are friends," she groans, turning her back to me to face the math problem written on the board. I stare at the back of her head, attempting to feel guilty about zoning out on her again.

Daphne and I have been best friends since the first day of high school and I cannot for the love me even fathom why she bothered sitting with me that day at lunch. I had been perfectly fine, sitting alone at that table, headphones in as I tried to ignore the over crowded cafeteria. She had plopped down next to me, ripping the buds from my ears, demanding all my attention focus on her.

"So are you just planning on sitting there all alone like a freak for the next four years?" she had asked between mouthfuls of the greasy hamburger she had selected. She was the epitome of high school diva. Tall, blonde, thin, tan and way too perky for someone who had never seen a cup of coffee a day in her life.

"I'm Daphne. Daphne Matthews." She had extended one perfectly polished hand at me, patiently waiting for me to take it. I am sure I had stared at her for a good ten minutes before shaking her hand.

"Omera Vita," I replied. Daphne had wasted no time continuing her rambling. By the end of lunch I knew all about her, her dream of becoming head cheerleader (surprise surprise), her parents divorce and how I could 'be smokin hot if I wore a little makeup.'

Daphne actually ended up being the only person who did not look at me like I was some kind of science experiment. Nor did she seem to mind that everyone judged the fact that, as popular as she was, she chose to spend all her free time hanging out with me. I even managed to open up to her about my past, the murders and how I came to live at the young center around the corner from the school. She never pried, never asked for more detail than I was willing to give. She just sat the, holding me as I bawled my eyes out on her bathroom floor, the day she had accidentally asked me if my parents would mind if I spent the night.

"You're doing it again!" she whined, poking me in the shoulder with her pencil, "You're doing it again. That weird thing you do when your eyes get all glassy and you just stare. You need to work on that. It is really creepy."

I force a smile to my face, quickly scribbling down the problems written on the board. I solve them easily, math being my favorite subject. Daphne throws a look over her shoulder, scowling at my already finished class work. I push my paper forward, making it easier for her to read the answers. I know she is copying them anyways, this just makes it easier.

The bell rings, signaling the end of the day, and I release the breath I have been holding. Oh thank goodness. Anymore time shut in this stuffy room and I might have actually lost my shit this time.

Daphne remains seated, knowing I won't move until the room has emptied. She turns in her seat, slinging her bag over a shoulder.

"So, are you going to come?"

"Come where?" I silently make a note to myself to start paying better attention when she speaks. At least I did not just nod this time, having had a long history of agreeing to do things with her I would much later regret.

"To the party?!" she squeals, "The one I have spent almost the whole week trying to convince you to come to. You know, loud music, hot guys, and lots of booze?"

I slam my head on the desk, regretting the action instantly as the pain buzzes through my skull. Ugh, the party. How could I have forgotten? She had not shut up about it since Monday. I rack my brain, thinking of excuses to avoid what I know will be a total waste of my time. Drunken guys throwing themselves at Daphne as I stand in the corner like a house plant? Woo, sounded like a blast.

"You mean guys groping you while I try not to let you become a victim of date rape?" I say into the desk, "I think I am going to have to pass on this Daph."

"Give me one good reason?" she demands, rising from her seat. I move a strand of hair from my face, peering at her through the thick locks. She is flashing me her best 'I-know-you-are-out-of-excuses' smile. I clench my fist tightly, knowing that smile is correct. I have successfully avoided every party she's invited me to since the horrible incident that occurred during the freshman mixer we had attended three years back. Back when I still believed I could be anything but 'that strange girl Daphne hangs out with.'

Boy had I been wrong. We were barely there a full hour before someone felt it necessary to dump their entire cup of beer on me. This had lead to me removing my sweater, flashing the whole party not just my bare chest, but the vicious map of scars that littered my body. Someone had snapped a picture and before the end of the night, it was all over the internet. I had been labeled a 'cutter' and 'freak' not even a month into high school.

Daphne had stood by my side through the whole ordeal. She had used what little powers she had with her popularity by getting most people to take the picture down. She refused to associate with anyone who even mentioned the scars, or dared to ask how they got there. By the time freshman year no one spoke of the incident, but that damage had been done. I was a 'freak' and, therefor, to be avoided at all times. That was the only perk of the whole situation, I no longer had to avoid the people...they stayed as far from me as possible.

"Do I have to? You know how I feel about these things?" I groaned, still refusing to lift my head from the desk.

"Oh come on," she begged, "It will be fun. You can come over before, I can dress you up and we will have a blast."

I slide from my chair, tossing my bag over my shoulder. Daphne's smile grows wider, realizing that she has won. She jumps up and down, squealing like a small child on Christmas.

"It is going to be so much fun!" She takes my hand, all but dragging me from the class and into the hall, rambling on and on about makeup and other shit I really don't care about.

"Oh joy." I grumble sarcastically.