❝ So, I went missing and your common sense went with me? ❞
Cressida Grace was not having a good day at all, and that was before she realized that she had amnesia.
Octavian x fem!J. Grace ; L. Castellan x fem!P. Jackson
The Tales of Andromeda Jackson...
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𝔜ou know that moment, just after you wake up, where you don't know where you are and everything feels wrong? I was having that feeling. Every hair on my arms was standing up, like I should be on the lookout for something and my guts were twisting with apprehension.
When I woke up, I was in the backseat of a school bus. A girl was reclining next to me, her legs over the top of mine but I didn't know where I'd seen her before or who she was or how she was familiar with me.
A few dozen kids were sprawled around in front of me, listening to iPods, talking, sleeping and just being teenagers but I couldn't place any of their faces either. They looked about sixteen, or maybe seventeen and on that note, how old was I?
Who was I?
The bus was rumbling along a bumpy, dirt track style road and out of the window, a desert rolled along beneath a bright blue sky. Do I live here?
"Hey, Cress," I froze. The legs on mine gave me a kick as I turned to face the other girl who was now watching me. "You alright? You've gone kind of pale."
You know, now that she mentioned it, I felt kind of faint. Where the hell was I and why was I here?
The other girl, the one who called me Cress, wore faded jeans and remarkably clean hiking boots, that were on top of my own legs. She had a fleece snowboarding jacket, her dark hair pulled back into two braids on either side of her head. Baby hairs curled around her ears, some hooking through the hoops of her earrings. Her eyebrow cocked, dark brown eyes seeming to stare straight through my soul as I watched her. Had I met her before?
"Uh, I don't-" I shook my head, but was cut off by a shout from the front of the bus.
"All right, cupcakes, listen up!" I couldn't see who was speaking until I turned and leant out to the left to look past the seats. He was short, a baseball cap pulled low over his hair so that you could only just see his beady eyes. Below that was a wispy goatee, and his face was pulled into a sour expression like he hated kids.
His buff arms and chest pushed against a bright orange polo shirt. His nylon workout pants and Nikes were spotless white. A whistle hung from his neck, and a megaphone was clipped to his belt. When he stood up in the aisle, one of the students called, "Stand up, Coach Hedge!"
"I heard that!" The coach scanned the bus for the offender. Then his eyes fixed his eyes on me and his scowl deepened. I shivered, pushing myself further back into the dusty seat. This guy, Coach Hedge, knew that I wasn't supposed to be here. I feared, for a moment, that I was going to be called out and dragged off the bus.
