When I wake up I’m aware of three things (Three being the magic number). One, Ray is gone; this troubles me a little more than it should. Two, the pain in my stomach has not lessened. At all, in any way. And three, I am in a room painted a ghastly shade of lavender. And I recognize it.
Gritting my teeth, I carefully move myself into a sitting position. It’s exactly as I left it, and I mean exactly. Fourteen year old clothes poke out of the open draws of my chest of drawers. Nail polish remover is uncapped on the vanity, a selection of coloured polishes lined up carefully next to it. Pictures adorn my walls. Me -hopelessly young in so many ways- laughing and smiling; I am completely oblivious to what I am. Shifting my feet to the floor, I let my soles revel in the softness of the carpet. For a moment I shut my eyes and try to remember what it was like to be this girl. I can’t. There are a collection of dresses littering the floor and I faintly recall desperately trying to find the perfect dress for my date.
It was my second date with Seth. There was no third. That would be because I killed him. I can almost imagine the scent of lilacs drifting in on late summer breezes, it was bliss.
I wonder why I’m here. And then I understand. Thanatos’ safe house isn’t safe anymore, so he let George take me here. If he thinks that they won’t find me he’s mistaken. Unless he can find a witch (yes they exist; have you ever heard of Circe, Medea?) I doubt he’ll be able to hide me. The door opens quietly and I find myself face to face with Mike, my younger brother.
“Mike.” I whisper, and we just stare at each other, neither moving.
“Why’d you leave?” And his voice is so confused, and I can’t seem to lie to him.
“I can’t tell you.” Hurt clouds his face, but nothing I can say will make that better, especially not the truth.
“Dad and I were alone! You left us, and you weren’t even going to tell us you were back were you?” There’s an accusation in his voice and I can see that he already knows the answer. He gesture’s angrily at my wound. “We only found you because of that, not that you’ll tell me how you got it.”
“You’re so selfish! It would have been better if you had never come home.” He leaves my room, slamming the door.
I sink back into my bed and close my eyes. I wish I could sink into the sheets and never get up. Just lie on this bed until I die and turn to dust so my dad can vacuum up my remains and dump them in the trash. I sit up abruptly and stand up. However much my stomach hurt from the movement it was better than that thought I had just had.
After rifling through my closet for about five seconds I see that everything is one, too small, two, too pink, and three, just disgustingly girly. After a moment’s thought I go to my mum’s room to see if she had anything that could fit me.
When I push the door open I immediately see that no one had been in here for a very long time. The room has obviously been cleaned after her death, everything was in its place, but there was a fine layer of dust that coated everything. I pad across the room and throw open her closet, revealing rows and rows of clothing. After a second I pull out sweatpants, which I roll at the waist, and an old t-shirt. When I inhale the scent of the fabric, it still smells a little like her. Fresh air and soap.
I wander downstairs, stopping periodically to gasp in agony and wallow in self pity. When I finally reach the kitchen I pause, hearing my brother and father arguing.
“I don’t want her back.” It’s Mike. He and George are standing in the kitchen arguing in hushed voices.
“She’s your sister, and she’s welcome here any time.”
“She left us dad!”
“She was scared. She witnessed two deaths.”
“Don’t you think that’s a little coincidental? Maybe she did kill them.”
“Michael!”
I’m not one to be discreet, so I don’t pretend not to have heard as I wander into the kitchen. Mike has the grace to look guilty, but I’m oddly proud that he suspects me. Yeah, I don’t know why either.
“Water?” I ask. Mike hands me a glass that was on the table. I smile and take a glug, softening my throat.
“Hailey.” I look up, unused to the name. “I’ve enrolled you in school. You’ll start on Monday.” I choke on the water.
“You’re kidding right?” I have horrible visions of people in armor attacking me during biology, of battling evil in algebra.
“You did go to school while you were missing.” He looks a little unsure. I nod, not wanting to expand on the truancy issue.
I point at my midsection. “I was stabbed. Do you think I want to go to Calculus? Besides, everyone will act strangely around me.”
“And whose fault is that?” I’m sorry Hailey, but you’re going to school and that’s final.
I cross my arms. “You can’t make me.”
I sit glowering out the window as we pull up in front of the school. Clearwater High is printed in large blue letters over the entrance. I would have been punishing George for this, but the coward got someone else to drive me to school.
Next-door neighbor, crush’s older brother, diner boy, and the brother of the boy I killed. Also known as Caleb.
“Why are you driving me again?” I ask, feeling like a child being carpooled around.
“Because you can’t drive, your dad is busy, and you can’t take the bus.” He deadpans. “It’s just school. You won’t die.”
“Wanna bet?” I mutter.
“What?”
“Nothing, you don’t have to come in, I know the way.” I force a smile and a thank you before climbing out of the car in borrowed clothes (although they’ll do) and a black backpack.
Kids stream in the front entrance. It’s chilly, so only a few smokers are loitering outside. The rebels, they probably think they’re so hardcore. Smelling bad and dying of cancer is so in these days. Thankfully no one notices me as I slip in with them and make my way to the office.
“Hi. Hello. EXCUSE ME!” I finally yell at the secretary. She’s middle aged with winged glasses.
“Oh, hello honey. What’s your name?” She has a pencil tucked behind one ear and a picture of children on her desk. I decide that I like her.
“Hailey Reid.” She looks surprised and does a double take.
“My, haven’t you grown up.” She takes in my nose ring and short black hair with minimal distaste. “Here’s your schedule. I expect you know your way around, but you can always ask someone if you forget.” I nod and smile and say thank you. Then the schedule is in my bag and I’m making my way to the back parking lot.
I only make it ten yards when I’m intercepted.
“I can’t let you leave cuz, sorry.” It’s Morpheus.
I shrug my backpack up higher on my shoulder, wincing slightly as the stitches in my abdomen stretch. “Why?” My answer is curt and short, I’m not in the mood for being told what to do.
His answer isn’t what I expect. “We can keep you safe here. The family’s got you protected, the school and the house. So long as you only travel to those two places, we can practically guarantee your safety.” I’m tempted to shove past him and leave anyways, but the, now familiar, pain in my stomach brings me to my senses. I should take time to recuperate, and then I’m gone, this time for good.
“Fine.”
“Yeah?” He looks surprised and just a little suspicious.
“Yes.” I’m on the mood for answers so I ask a question. “Remind me why Zeus wants me dead.” My cousin cringes and rubs his head.
“Don’t take it personally.” I narrow my eyes. As if reciting from a text book he says, “Subject has been deemed dangerous by the counsel of the twelve Olympians. Due to its unpredictable lapses in control, subject is to be eliminated.”
“English.” I say, but I caught one word, ‘its’. I’m not a person to them. Although maybe I should be more worried about them calling me ‘Subject’ like I’m from a bad horror movie.
“You’re unstable and dangerous so they’re sending demigods after you to kill you.” I nod tersely.
“Keep Ray safe.”
“I will.” I turn around and march back into the school.
Amazingly, I’ve just slumped into my Calculus seat when the bell rings. Glancing around I see impeccably dressed teenagers, their hair brushed, their clothes ironed. The difference between them and me is cataclysmic. I’m wearing a rumpled band t-shirt and a clean pair of jeans, but that’s as much effort as I put into my appearance this morning. I have dark circles under my eyes and when I rake a hand through my short, dark hair, it’s full of tangles. I grin, flashing a silver lip ring.
Students keep shooting me looks. They probably think they’re being surreptitious about it, only glancing out of the corners of their eyes, but I see them. I’m wondering if they recognize me, I don’t recognize them, when a kid bursts through the Math door.
At first I think that he has white hair, but then I see that in fact, it’s just a very pale blonde. He displays slightly crooked teeth as he smiles at the teacher. I scoff at his clothes though. He wears a simple tee and jeans, but over them he flaunts a leather jacket and boots. Clearly he thinks he’s all that and more. When he slumps in the seat two away from me it dawns on me that this is the school bad boy.
Back at the schools I spent my high school years in the bad boys were real, not just playing at it, and I can’t help smirking at his lame attempt to be cool.
“Pst, hey new girl.” I focus on staring out the window as his words drift into my personal bubble. The trees have almost lost all of their leaves now. In a couple of weeks kids will be pounding the streets in search of candy.
A ball of paper whizzes past my desk and lands on the floor. I grit my teeth and think of my plan. Lay low and then you’re gone. I start to chant it in my head.
“New girl!” I ball my fists and the surrounding people glance my way. Suddenly, something hits me in the head, a paper ball, and something in me snaps.
This is new. Normally I would be Miss cool and collected, on the outside, completely in control. Lately, on the other hand, life has gotten rather stressful. Maybe it’s the fact that I always have to stay calm because gods forbid I freak out and kill someone. Or maybe it’s because there are demigods searching for me with the intent to kill. Or maybe it’s because I have to move in with the people who make me feel so guilty I want to scream.
I just don’t need some obnoxious teenager breathing down my neck. I turn to look at him. He’s lounging at his desk like he owns it, smirking at me as he opens his mouth to speak again.
And then somehow I’m lunging over the girl between us and punching him straight in the jaw. He flies backwards and lands hard on his back, I loom over him. He’s just some stupid kid I tell myself as I lean over him, air going dry around me. I take deep heaving breaths that tear at my stitches. It works. I calm down and walk over to my seat and sit.
The teacher stares in shock and the kids are frozen in their seats, identical expressions of horror etched in their features.
The kid sits up, cradling his eye in his hand. For a moment I wonder if he will cry, but instead he does the unexpected. “You punched me.” He says. It breaks the spell and my teacher, a smile red headed woman, starts to yell at me.
“Ms. Reid! How could you attack a student like this?” She seems at a loss for words and I get the feeling that she’s never had this happen before.
I stand up reluctantly, it’s awful, but I really don’t care that I just hit the kid.
“She punched me!” Blonde boy says incredulously.
The teacher looks flustered as she says, “Mason, go to the nurse. Uh, Hailey, go with him.” She looks relieved to have found a way to get rid of the situation.
“Don’t you want me to go to the principle?” I say, confused.
“Oh, um, yes. Mason, show her to the principal’s office after you see the nurse.”
“She punched me.” This time he almost seems like he’s pleased with the fact.
Oh how I love school.
Sorry this took almost two months to update. I have absolutely no excuse other than that I have lost all motivation to write and am literally dragging words out of my mind and forcing my fingers to type.
So sorry if this is lame and a pathetic update after so long.
Three new chatacters.
Mike- the brother
Caleb- Seth( the boy she killed)'s brother, you met him at the diner
Mason- Blondie
If these weren't clear please tell me.
If you have any questions or are hopelessly confused, just ask! :)
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Really, thanks for reading!