Wraiths ✓

short story

That day started like any other day. It came wrapped beneath a veil of normality; more than willing to hide the truth from me. It would take half an hour for me to realize that something was slightly different, and a few more hours to understand why.  

Standing by the window wrapped up in my blanket, I brushed the thin white curtain aside. The bottom half of the windowpane was foggy and a few tiny waterdrops ran down the glass. I traced the patterns with my finger, enjoying the moment of peace. Outside, the morning air was heavy with wispy layers of mist that crawled along the ground, reaching for the blood red leaves in the trees above. 

It was beautiful.

With a reluctant sigh, I let the fabric drop back into place again. It didn't matter that I hated school, or that school hated me; I still had to go. I turned on my heels and made my way to the dresser. It always started like that. Every day. I would get ready on my own, sneak out of the house and catch the bus at the last second. I had a routine, and I had to keep to it in order to stay out of sight.

I might not like school, but it was better than staying home with my wasted dad who liked to use me as a punching bag if he was in a good mood.

Twenty minutes later, I noticed that this day wasn't like every other day. There was something about the bus driver's eyes: they weren't friendly like they used to be. They flitted back and forth as I entered the bus with some of the younger kids, never looking straight at me. He held the door open for a little while longer than necessary before driving off. I couldn't help but wonder what was going on.

That sign may have been subtle, but as the bus closed in on the school grounds, I couldn't get rid of the eerie sensation creeping along my skin. Brent hadn't talked to me once. He usually spat out insults that he didn't even bother chewing on first. They were crude comments without much elegance or thought, but they hurt all the same. I was almost tempted to pat his shoulder--just so that he would acknowledge me--but I wasn't that stupid. Likely, he would reward me with a black eye.

As I exited the bus, I hovered by the driver for a second, waiting for him to give me his usual greeting. He was nice like that: always giving me a reassuring smile and a 'Good luck, son', even if I wasn't his son. Sometimes I wish I were.

Terry, the bus driver, looked out the window on his left, ignoring the students that filed out of the bus one by one. I got caught in the throng, pulling me out of the bus and towards the red brick building.

Passing through the gate, I spotted a few people I hadn't seen before lounging on a bench; oddly enough they looked at me, punching each other's shoulders one by one so that they all ended up staring at me. I lengthened my step, rushing past other kids on my way to the door.

The brightly lit corridor was crowded and students talked louder and louder to be heard in the ruckus. It gave me some sort of relief. At least this was normal. I hurried to my locker, placed my bag and jacket inside and took out the textbook for my Biology class. Mrs. Daniels was a nice teacher, so I liked Biology.

Sitting down in my usual spot, I opened the book and found the chapter we would work on for the day. Mrs. Daniels was busy writing something on the board, but as the bell rang the final time she turned towards the class.

"Right then, everyone. Open-" She stopped mid-sentence, staring directly at me. Her expression didn't change as I attempted a smile, but after a few seconds she shook her head and started anew. "Open page 75. We're going to study phenotypes today."

The lesson went on, and despite my raised hand, I never got the question. Usually I didn't bother raising my hand, because I didn't want to attract unnecessary attention to myself, but for some reason it felt important today.