Date on Earth: Tuesday, October 3
I hated Coco Puffs.
Actually, that's a lie. I loved Coco Puffs. They were probably my favorite food ever. In fact, if I could, I'd probably eat it for all three meals of the day. If it offered any trace of nutrition.
But anyway, that's off topic. Maybe I was feeling some detestation towards Coco Puffs, but it wasn't the cereal's fault for being the cause of my dilemma.
What I really hated was the sense of uselessness.
You know, that emotion you get deep in your gut when everyone around you is doing something, and you are off on the sidelines. People think you can't do anything useful, so they exclude you entirely.
I had always tried to avert the feeling as best as I could. Like not asking for help. Pretty much depending on myself.
But not feeling that way when I had been confined to a wheelchair for fifteen years was kinda impossible.
Especially when I had managed to drop the cereal box onto the floor right under my feet. And unfortunately for me, flexibility was most definitely not my strong suit.
I reached down as far as I could, which was somehow even farther from the box than the last fifteen times I had tried to grab it. I started to feel the strain in my back.
Shaking it off, I tried one last time.
Almost got it, almost got it...
I felt the tips of my fingers graze it before a sharp pain erupted in my back. I groaned and sat back up, silently cursing the box of Coco Puffs.
"Need a hand Ash?" I heard the voice of my best friend say from behind me in his usual snarky tone.
"Nope, I'm all good. Just give me a sec and I'll have the cereal good to go in no time."
"You sure?"
"Yup, I-hey!" I exclaimed as Dion completely ignored my statement and moved me to the side to pick up the cereal. He walked over to the dining room and placed it on the table.
He laughed as he saw my expression.
"Aww relax bud," Dion teased, resting his hand on my shoulder. "Everyone here knows how big and tough you are."
"Haha," I laughed halfheartedly. I went to the table and dumped cereal into my bowl as I yawned. A minute later Mrs. Nancy, our foster mother, walked into the dining room.
"Good morning dears," she said, carrying a pile of washed clothes in her hands.
"Good morning Mrs. Nancy," me and Dion responded. I gave her a forced smile as my mind flashed back to the dream I had last night.
Fire creeps up the walls and smoke covers me like a blanket. Screams of kids pierce my ears. A feeling of failure washes over me as I watch the flames consume everything in its path. And in the midst of it all, a sweet voice echoes in my ears. "Never underestimate anyone. You never know what secrets that person may hold."
I always kept my dreams to myself. No one needed to know how crazy I was. That my dreams would warn me about the future.
And that I was almost one hundred percent certain that something horrible was going to happen today.
"Oh sweetie, don't worry about school. I'm sure you'll love it and make plenty of friends!" said Mrs. Nancy, probably misinterpreting my grim expression.
I decided to play along. "Yeah, I guess you're right." I gave her the biggest grin I could muster. She smiled back and kissed me on my forehead. It was funny how she treated everyone as if we were five.
"But not too many friends. Don't want you forgetting about us now do we?" Dion joked. I rolled my eyes and laughed.
"I don't know, maybe I could find a better best friend."
Dion's response was cut off by yelling down the hallway. He rolled his eyes. "Ugh, it's too early for this," he groaned as he took a bite of his own breakfast. Four small children came running into the room.
"Ash! Look at these cool new toys!" shouted Ben, a six year old boy with vocal chords so big that everything he said sounded like screaming. He held up one blue and one red toy car to my face.
"Wow, that's really cool Ben! Where did you get these?"
Mrs. Nancy answered the question for me. "A wonderful stranger donated them! They gave us two boxes full of toys and clothes. It makes my heart so happy when people do such kind things."
"Well that's nice," a girl, Sadie, interjected. Her blond hair was wild and she rubbed her eyes as she walked into the dining room. She held her phone in her hand and sat down with a thump. "But you know what would be really nice? If they took these screaming monsters away so I could get some sleep."
I mocked horror as the other kids gasped. "Sadie! How could you say such a treacherous thing?" The children faked-cried as I wrapped my arms around them. "Don't worry you guys. I'm sure Ms. Grumpypants didn't mean it." Sadie made an epic eye roll, turning her attention to her phone as me and Dion chuckled.
That was the thing about living in our foster home. Everybody was one big happy family. We laughed, teased, and joked all the time. It didn't matter what our past was, or that we were orphans. We had each other, and our bond was probably just as close as any other blood-related family.
Of course I wouldn't know. Out of all the other children in Mrs. Nancy's foster home, I was the only one that had been an orphan all my life, without ever getting to experience what a real family was like. Which, I guess from a certain perspective, is a good thing. I can't miss them if I never met them.
The identity of my parents is a complete mystery. I was found abandoned on the side of the road wrapped in a small blanket. My legs were crushed and twisted. The people who found me were sure I was dead. I should've been.
For a few years after that, authorities searched for who could've been cruel enough to leave their newborn son injured and alone next to a highway. They never found my parents, and I was glad. I didn't want them to. In fact, I never do. Why dwell on the past if the present is so much better?
After breakfast I went to the bedroom that me and Dion shared and put on the clothes that I had laid out for myself the day before. It was a simple blue Adidas t-shirt and black sweatpants with sneakers. The same outfit I wore pretty much everyday.
Struggling for five minutes to put on my pants, I finally managed to put them on and packed my school supplies in my black backpack. I quickly stopped to check myself in the mirror. My dirty blonde hair stood out all over the place. I stroked a few hairs out of my green eyes and tried to tame the rest with my fingers.
I smiled, not big enough to show my dimples, but real enough to hide the fear I felt circling through my brain. It was constant, really, but I never showed it. And I never told anybody the reason why I could never sleep for more than four hours each night.
I don't know what happened the day that I was found and taken to the hospital, but sometimes I would get flashes of memories. I would see a pair of red eyes. Echoes of screams. The pain that overtook me as my bones shattered. It didn't make any sense that I would remember anything of that night; I was only a few hours old. What could've been so horrible that it would still haunt me fifteen years later?
I shook the thoughts out of my head. I should've been thinking about my first day of school, where I would be a freshman making the transition two months into the school year. I had been homeschooled my whole life. It had made it easier for Mrs. Nancy since she didn't have to drive everyone around; a tutor could just be hired to teach the foster kids.
However, I always wanted to go to a real school and be like a normal kid. My butler(who was totally not actually my therapist) really thought it would be healthy for me to go to a normal high school and interact with kids my age. The only problem was that then I would have to take the bus, and there were no buses that drove past where we lived. However, after a series of long telephone calls, they were finally able to send a bus to the foster home.
I rolled out of the room while checking my watch. I had five minutes until the bus would stop by. In front of me stood Mrs. Nancy. She looked at me with tears in her eyes. I barely refrained from sighing loudly. "You know I'm only leaving for six hours, right?" I told her.
"That's not why I'm crying," she gave me a sad smile. "You are growing up too fast. I still remember you as a baby, such a strong cry..."
She went off on a tansian, and I had to interrupt her when I saw the bus coming from around the curb.
"Oops, sorry Mrs. Nancy, the bus is here! I gotta go!" I got a few feet before she stopped me. She bent down and gave me a hug.
"You may be going to a big school," she said sternly. "But you are still my baby. And you are still required to hug me goodbye."
I gave an exaggerated sigh and said, "Yes, Mrs. Nancy."
We bid our farewells and I quickly made my way towards the bus. My breaths got shorter as I rolled down the driveway. The bus screeched as it came to a halt. A breeze plastered strands of hair against my forehead. It had gotten longer over the past three months, but I had refused to cut it. Running my fingers through my hair, a loud puffing sound came from the small bus door opening. The frowning face of the driver came into view.
"Asher?" his voice gruffed. He was a small man with a baggy shirt and pants. And he definitely did not look like he was having the best of days.
I gave him a lopsided smile. "Yup. That's me." The driver gave a huff and studied me. What was his problem?
"How ya gonna get on?" He asked. I barely restrained myself from snorting. Is he serious?
"You are supposed to help me, sir."
He looked at me and huffed again. "Well, I guess you won't be too heavy..." He looked at my legs that were hanging limply and were pretty much all bone. I scowled. Yeah, I might've been a little skinny, but it wasn't like he was a tough guy either. I could easily beat up his-
You're in a wheelchair, stupid.
Maybe it was a good thing that I was unable to walk. Otherwise I'd probably get in a heck of a lot of trouble getting into fights with others. Dion would always tease me on how I could be the nicest, happiest person one moment, and wanting to beat someone up the next. Oh well. It wasn't my fault that some people were so punchable.
Come on Asher. Focus.
The tiny man hopped out of the bus and attempted to pick me up.
"You're heavier than you look," he said through gritted teeth. I could feel his arms shaking as he held me by my waist.
Don't drop me. Whatever you do, don't drop me. I chanted this to myself as the bus driver carried me up the steep stairs. When he got to the top, he put me on the ground and went back for my throne(not my wheelchair).
The driver placed my throne in front of me and I was lifted up. Stares surrounded me, making me feel queasy. Suddenly the scars on my legs and waist felt very visible, even if they were covered by my sweatpants.
I smiled a little bigger, trying to appear as friendly as I could. At the front of the bus, there was a one-seat row, giving me room to park. On the seat to my right sat a boy who looked slightly older than me. He had dark curly hair and light brown eyes. His whole persona radiated "player boy". Music blasted through his headphones and he stared out the window, lost in thought. The boy didn't even notice when I stopped right next to him.
I sat there awkwardly as the bus started moving forward. The chattering of students echoed against the sides of the bus. Suddenly, I felt someone touch my shoulder. I jerked my head back. It was a girl with a brown bag in her hand.
"Hey, new kid!" she said in a whispered tone. When I looked at her she started to talk again. "Can you give this to the kid next to you? Say it's from me." She looked almost like she was shaking from excitement as she held out a bag for me to take.
"Do not give him that bag." A red headed girl with side-swept bangs and glasses cut in. Her friend shot her a dirty look. She shrugged. "What? It's bad enough my parents force me to hang out with him. I told you, he's a jerk. And he's definitely not worth your cinnamon roll," The redhead snatched the brown bag away.
The friend snatched it back. "You don't get to tell me what I can and can't do." She held out the bag again and this time I grabbed it, much to the redhead's dismay.
"Tell him it's poisoned!" The redhead added quickly before her friend hit her playfully on the arm. I tuned them out and turned my attention to the boy next to me.
"Hey," I said quietly, trying to get his attention. Not surprisingly, he didn't hear me. I tried again, louder this time. "Hey, kid with headphones!" That got his attention. He took off his headphones and turned towards me.
"Yes?" He responded tiredly. He had dark circles under his eyes and he rubbed his right wrist.
I held out the girl's brown bag. "This girl told me to give this to you. I think it's a cinnamon roll. Oh, and it may or may not be poisoned."
His mouth turned up to a smile as he took it. "Thanks. And thanks Mia! You too Diana!" he called over his shoulder. The redhead growled while the other girl looked like she was about to melt into her own seat.
The boy turned his attention back to me. "Haven't seen you before. You new?" He asked me. I nodded.
"Yup, it's my first day."
"Freshman?"
"You know it. You?"
"Sophomore." His gaze shifted to my legs. Even before anything came out of his mouth, I knew what he was going to ask. I braced myself for the question everyone asked me.
"Name's Tristen," came out instead. I thanked him silently. I was not in the mood to explain my injury's unknown history.
"Asher."
After introducing ourselves, we talked for the rest of the ride. It turned out that we shared a period in school, despite us being in different grade levels. Tristen was a basketball player(of course he was), which suggested that he was popular. But when I made a remark about him probably having a lot of friends, he grew quiet and changed the subject.
The conversation started to die off as we neared the school. The building towered over the bus, as if trying to intimidate the students. On the wall facing forward hung a poster of a dragon, their mascot. It held a sign, reading, "Welcome to Davis High School, Home of the Dragons."
Well, at least our mascot was pretty cool. Definitely better than the "roach" mascot of the neighboring high school. Apparently that mascot was chosen to show their resilience.
Yeah, I'll pass on that.
The bus stopped around the building, and the students rushed out to head to their friends and classes. This time, it was Tristen that helped me get off the bus. I thanked him as he placed me back on my throne.
"Guess I'll see you around," Tristen said as he started to walk the opposite direction of me.
"Bye," I did a small wave goodbye, surprised to find that Tristen was walking the opposite way of the school building. Probably off to ditch his first period.
Actually, scratch that. I wasn't surprised at all.
I pushed the double doors open and started forward. It opened to a large room. On the right was the cafeteria, and the other side was the media center. Students everywhere were conversing, and occasionally I would see someone staring at me. I stuck out like a sore thumb.
A loud ringing echoed against the walls. I took a deep breath of motivation.
My first day of school had begun.
...
I was so lost.
It was already 10:57am, meaning I had missed both my first period and most of my second one.
To be clear, I was not ditching. I just couldn't find anything in this prison. It's like trying to find your way through a maze. Right then may have been a good time to ask for help, but I didn't need any. I'd find my classroom.
Eventually.
Another shrill sound from the bell rang through the air. I groaned. For nearly two hours, I'd been moving around cluelessly. Sighing, I pulled out my schedule again. My third class was in room 069, and it was the period that I shared with Tristen-if he wasn't ditching that one too. I looked at the number of the classroom next to me. Room 012.
Well, better get to it.
I continued down the hall, reading the numbers of each room I passed. When the second bell that marked me tardy rang, I made a muffled scream in frustration and stopped to think about my situation. Yep, that's what I was doing. Thinking. Definitely not moping.
"Asher?" I heard a voice behind me say. I quickly turned around and sighed with relief to see Tristen, ditching class after all.
The boy looked worse than he did on the bus. His face was an ashy white, and his eyes seemed to be full of terror, as if he had seen a ghost. He barely resembled the boy that I had sat next to on the bus. What happened?
"You okay man?" I asked him. "You don't look too good."
He avoided my question. "Didn't realize you were a ditcher," he smirked at me. I was tempted to keep a little of my pride and agree with the statement. But...I needed to get to class somehow.
"Well, technically I'm lost, but the ditching excuse works too." I tried to say it as nonchalantly as I could, but he must have noticed the strain behind my voice.
"Don't worry. Everyone gets lost on their first day," Tristen reassured me. He looked at his watch. "You follow me now, then we'll just be a few minutes late."
"Oh, okay. Yeah. Thanks," I said awkwardly. I followed him down the hallway and he led me to room 069.
I would've never found the classroom. It was a small tucked-away door with a faded sign, making the numbers 069 nearly unreadable.
Tristen reached up and knocked on the wooden door. I noticed a slight wince as he raised his arm, but decided not to comment.
The door opened to reveal a tall woman with a clipboard in her hand. She gazed down at me and gave me a kind smile.
"You must be Asher," The teacher held out her hand for me to shake. "I am Mrs. Jane, it's a pleasure to have you in my class."
I shook her hand. "Thank you m'am. Glad to be here."
The teacher changed her gaze to Tristen. "Late again I see."
Tristen shrugged. "Here now aren't I?"
Mrs. Jane rolled her eyes. "Well, I guess that is an improvement." She wrote a check next to his name that marked him tardy. Thankfully, she didn't do the same to mine.
"Since you two have already acquainted, why don't you sit next to each other? There's an empty spot next to Tristen. You can sit there," Mrs. Jane pointed to a desk in the back.
The teacher went back to her lesson as me and Tristen got settled in the seats. Tristen put his headphones from the bus back on.
I took out a pencil and rolled it on the desk, not even bothering to catch up to what the teacher was saying. I yawned. Searching for the classrooms had really drained me.
When I looked up, I caught Mrs. Jane staring at me. I quickly averted my gaze. People stared at me all the time. I was used to it. That didn't mean I liked it.
The teacher walked up and put a worksheet on my desk. "If you need anything at all, feel free to ask me. I understand that you may need more help completing certain tasks than others," Mrs. Jane told me.
"Mrs. Jane, I mean no disrespect, but I am fully capable of doing many tasks by myself, and I don't want to be treated differently than any of your other students." I tried to say it as politely as I could, even with the irritation that was building up. The teacher smiled at me.
"I can respect that. It reminds me of something my grandfather used to say. 'Never underestimate anyone. You never know what secrets that person may hold.' Of course I always thought it was because he was still bitter from that one time he lost a card game to a frail man with dementia," she joked.
I laughed, trying to figure out what in her statement made me feel so uncomfortable.
The sudden realization struck me like a freight train and I felt my mouth go sour.
The words she had said were exactly the same that had been in my vision.
That meant that whatever bad thing that was supposed to happen today was already happening. My mind flashed back to the fire and the screams.
All that was going to happen, and soon.
I thanked Mrs. Jane for understanding, trying to keep the shakiness out of my voice. I turned my attention to the paper in front of me. It was on the different layers of the atmosphere, which I knew nothing about.
I proceeded to doodle little monsters all over the sheet, attempting to distract myself. They were round with sharp teeth and spikes and pretty much the extent of my drawing skills.
The room had gotten strangely quiet. Everyone's attention went to their work. I still didn't understand how people could stand to concentrate for that long without going crazy. I looked at my sheet again. I had finished one question, and it was a guess.
I gazed around the classroom, taking in everything. That's when I noticed the absence of someone: Mrs. Jane.
No one seemed to have noticed her leave, and I tried not to pay too much attention to it. She could've just been going to the bathroom.
But when it had been thirty minutes and the teacher still hadn't shown up, I knew something was off.
I tapped Tristen on the shoulder. "Hey Tristen, do you know where Mrs. Jane went?"
Tristen looked around. "Huh, didn't even notice she was missing. Probably going to the bathroom or something." He started to put his headphones back on.
"For thirty minutes?" I asked skeptically.
He shrugged. "Mrs. Jane's weird. Just ignore it."
I took one more look at the door to see if Mrs. Jane would bust through it. Still, there was no sign of her.
I sighed. I was probably overreacting. I mean, what did I think had happened? She had gotten abducted? Trapped in the janitor's closet like in those high school movies?
But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't get the uneasy feeling out of my stomach.
Nothing happened.
She's fine. She's fine. She's fine.
Then I smelled something that made my throat close up tight.
Smoke.
"We need to get out of here," I quickly told Tristen, already gathering up my things.
"What? Why?" He put his headphones away, probably noticing my urgency.
"Just hurry!" I snapped, catching the attention of the other students in the class.
"Is that smoke?" I heard some kid say from the other side of the room. Her eyes were wide as she stared at the classroom door. Surely enough, a black cloud arose from the crack of the door.
And just like that, the room burst into flames.
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Author's Note:
Thank you so much to anyone who has read this so far! I'm sorry for the slow beginning; I wanted to get an opportunity to introduce the core characters and their perspectives before the story really started moving forward.
But I promise in the next chapter the story will really start...