Those Who Cry Green Tears

By M.V. Marguerite

On an Earth much like ours, a secret war wages, hidden from the knowledge of any mere human. Auria Isadele, 17, believed shed already seen all the darkness her world had to offer, but quickly realized she was wrong when terrifying creatures raided her small town of Stonington, massacred and ate its citizens, kidnapped her family, and for some mysterious reason, left her alive. David Adams, 18, suffered the same fate, and when the two teenagers are forced to take shelter in the forest, they soon find they are connected in more than just the capture of their families; in fact, the task they are forced to fulfill together is both horrible and magnificent, and incredibly larger then their original mission.
Because of a haunting past, at first Auria is against having anything to do with her handsome companion, though unfortunately she learns that its either trusting David or most probable death.
They dont have the choice. They are chosen.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: May 24, 2013
• ISBN: 9781483644363

M.V. Marguerite

M. V. Marguerite is 15 years old and attends high school in Sudbury, Massachusetts. As the result of being an obsessive reader, she began writing at six years old and hasn¡¦t stopped since. She thanks whoever is reading this.

Book preview

Chapter One

So, Auria, you’re new to this section of the school? Mr. Tage, the principal, tapped the ends of my forms on his desk to even them out. He signed the paper on top of the forms before licking the tip of his finger and leafing through more of my records. He looked up at me, expectantly.

Yes, I recited. I asked for a different placement.

Your records show you are a very successful student. There are no obvious reasons for your request. He looked up at me again. I didn’t answer. Is there? he hedged.

I wasn’t satisfied with my classes, I stated monotonously. That was only partly true. Honestly, I’d requested a different placement in the hope of finding better classes.

The principal nodded again as he found the paper he was looking for and smoothed it on his desk. I’m afraid Stonington High doesn’t offer any different courses from the ones you’ve already taken. But I’m sure a change of atmosphere will do you good. He smiled encouragingly. My lips mimicked his without missing a beat.

As you know, he continued, taking another pen and scribbling something at the bottom of the sheet, we are a very big school. If there is anything I can help you with, please let me know.

As I nodded and smiled, going through the usual routines, I noticed how worn his face looked. I wondered if his lips felt tired from smiling and repeating the same fake words day after day. I know mine did.

Of course. Thank you, Mr. Tage.

No problem. Now, here’s your new schedule. He pushed the paper towards me. I also wrote down the number and combination of your new locker.

Thank you.

Good luck.

I stood up, shook his hand, and walked out. Two minutes later, I was standing outside of the school gym. I could hear the echo of people running laps, basketballs bouncing, and the aged gym teacher, who was yelling so much his voice was already hoarse this early in the morning. I looked through the small glass window. The class had started half an hour ago. I wondered if I should just skip and wait until my next class started. Anyone late to Mr. Kertin’s class would certainly attract a lot of attention and that was the last thing I wanted. I stood outside hesitantly for a moment, then pushed one of the double doors open.

I ignored the loud groan the door made and stepped inside. The gym smelled sweaty, dirty, and old. I turned to close the door behind me, wishing I was closing myself out, and not in.

Hey you! someone called.

I turned towards the voice. It was Mr. Kertin, making his way towards me. You’d think his vision would have lessened given his age, but his eyes were as sharp as an eagle’s.

I think you’ve got the wrong class. Get out before I make you do push-ups.

I’m a new student, I said calmly.

Mr. Kertin then paused and turned around to bellow at one of the students who had paused on the other side of the gym. Simal! Get your ass moving before I come over there and move it for you! Then he turned back to me. His cheeks were covered with the stubble of neglected shaving, and his skin hung off his face like an old grocery bag. An identifiable smell drifted off him. Who did you say you were? he asked.

Auria Isadele, I answered. A new student, I added when Mr. Kertin continued staring, confused. Some daring students looked over at us from behind his back.

Mr. Kertin smiled in an unfriendly manner and said, A new student, eh? I nodded. Well, go get yourself changed. The locker room is over there. You’ve got thirty seconds.

Twenty-nine seconds later, I was out in a pair of shorts and an old tee-shirt, with my hair pulled up in a ponytail.

Laps! Mr. Kertin hollered. I want five of them!

Somehow, I ended up at the beginning of the line. My muscles were stiff and cold, but running, even in this disgusting situation, came as a grateful release. I just thought about my breathing.

Breath in, step, step.

Breath out, step, step.

I only realized how far ahead I had pushed when I stopped at the end of the fifth lap. Everyone ran past me to finish their last round. I glanced at Mr. Kertin, confused. Had I really lapped them? He gave me a stern nod and then began threatening failed credits to some students stumbling at the back of the line.

I received many curious looks and whispers once everyone had finished. The whole class grouped in a messy throng around the teacher and I stood at the side. Mr. Kertin rolled out a ball bin from a closet and pushed it to the center of the gym.

All right. Today we’re playing dodge ball. A collective groan passed from lips to lips around me.

If you’re tagged out, the rowdy gym teacher continued, you have to do jumping-jacks until someone brings you back into the game, so I suggest you support your teammates. People immediately began assembling into two teams, calling for the better students and ignoring the smaller, younger ones. I looked around dejectedly and then drifted to the closest team.

I caught a few annoyed glances but no one said anything as we set up the nurf-balls on the half-court line marking the basketball court.

Faster! We don’t have all day! Mr. Kertin brought a shrill whistle to his lips. Three, two, one, play! Most of the players huddled to the gym walls, and only a few students ran to the center of the court. I ran to the line, grabbed the first ball I touched, and hit the closest boy out. He looked up at me, surprised, as I went down the line, pulling the balls into our side of the gym until we had more than half of them. The opposite team glared at me and my team looked at me curiously for a second and then continued on playing.

We went on for about half an hour until the only players left were me and three guys on the other team. The tallest blond one aimed a clumsy shot at me. I dodged easily and it bounced off the floor at me feet.

Catch the ball! someone yelled from my team, performing jumping jacks with wobbly legs. I caught the next ball aimed at me, bringing in a small girl with the brightest red hair I’d ever seen. She gave me a bright smile showing her small, pearly teeth.

The next ball obviously came from a baseball player and barely grazed my side, but it got me out. He leered at me from the other side of the gym as I walked calmly off the court, giving the redhead a chance to knock him out. He shouted insults as he stalked off the court.

The game went on for five more minutes, and the redhead was able to catch three balls, relieving three teammates from jumping jacks, and in the end we won the game. When Mr. Kertin blew the final whistle, some kids dropped to the floor with exhaustion, and several asked for permission to go to the nurse. No one left the gym.

Good game, but we still have ten minutes. Medicine balls are in the cart. Find a partner; I want twenty-five chest passes. Mr. Kertin ignored the complaints.

I sighed. I didn’t like partner exercises, especially when I didn’t know anyone. I walked over to the cart and took out a twenty-pounder. Some guys snorted as they passed me. I ignored them and went to the wall of the gym, hoping to be left unnoticed and do the exercises alone.

Hey, great game. I’ve never seen you around. Are you new? someone asked from behind me. I turned around and saw the small girl with bright red hair from my team.

Yeah, I said, taking more time to look at her. She had pale skin, cheeks sprayed with freckles, and bright green eyes. Delicate glasses balanced on her pointed nose and her bright red hair was pulled back impeccably, but it was so short that the ponytail stood straight out from the back of her head like tail feathers.

Do you mind being my partner? All the other girls already have one. She asked.

Sure, I agreed, glancing at her relatively small stature and skinny arms with skepticism.

Don’t worry, I’m stronger than I look. She grinned. I almost blushed from embarrassment at being caught staring. Almost.

People are usually different from the way they look, I agreed automatically.

She smiled. I’m Cassidy, by the way. She put her hand out.

Auria, I replied. I shook her hand quickly, surprised at her confident grasp.

Cassidy turned out to be right; she was much stronger then she looked. So strong, in fact, that I had the urge to go on beyond twenty-five chest passes to see who could keep going longer, but after the last one, I dropped the ball in the cart.

All right. Class dismissed. Next time I want more effort from everyone, Mr. Kertin ordered. I guess he said that at the end of every class. I immediately turned and made my way towards the lockers, not wanting to be stuck changing in a room full of other girls. I forgot about Cassidy, but not for long. I soon felt her presence at my elbow again.

Where do you usually eat lunch? I could meet you there if you like. I’m kind of a loner myself as well, she said proudly.

What makes you think I’m a loner? I asked in a monotone, but inside I was surprised. No one had ever asked me that so directly.

Well, for one thing, your cell phone is still in your pocket.

I turned to look at her, confused, but then realized she was right. More than half the girls had already whipped out their phones, their thumbs clicking away at the speed of light. They crowded in front of the mirror, yelling over each other and tossing hairbrushes around.

Anyway, about the lunch place, where’d you say you usually eat? Cassidy repeated.

I tried to avoid mentioning a specific place. Um, you know, anywhere.

Then the courtyard it is! She seemed happy to continue the monologue. I sighed but didn’t reply. I tried to get to my locker as quickly as possible, but it was too late. Cassidy had held me back, and now I was in the middle of a swarm of high school teenagers. Clouds of perfume quickly gave me a headache as I stepped over tights, jeans, and clothes strewn across the tiled floor until I reached my locker, so I decided to go change in one of the regular bathrooms around the school instead. At least it would be less crowded.

I made sure Cassidy didn’t see me slip out. Five minutes later, I emerged from the bathroom stall wearing my jeans and v-cut top, my sneakers squeaking on the linoleum floor. Once outside, I unslung my backpack from my shoulders to dig out my schedule and locker location, where I’d stop to leave some books.

Hall B, locker 103, I muttered under my breath, glaring at the small numbers printed at the top of my schedule. I had a terrible sense of direction. You could have given me a map, compass, and directions, and I still wouldn’t have been able to get to the destination.

And I hated things I wasn’t good at.

I grabbed my bag and made my way through the throng of students. I knew that if anyone were to look at me, their eyes would have continued on to something more interesting, because I looked completely normal on the outside; I’d always made sure of that. But they had no idea of the things they were missing just beneath my skin. After all, there’s more to a book then just its cover.

I walked straight past a large map framed on the school wall. Two large words, STONINGTON TOWN, told me what all the thin lines, drawings, and depictions were on the old paper.

I lived in a town called Stonington, a place lost in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by hills and forested mountains, as proven by the sudden lack of intersecting lines two inches around the perimeter of the town on the map. We were a pretty large town, but despite our numbers, the citizens of Stonington hardly heard from other human populations. Honestly, we weren’t very well off. There was no main cause for this; it was a mix of many things like a lack of food, declining economy, etc. The only upside was that we were far enough in the middle of nowhere to be pretty much left alone by other human divisions. Little skirmishes and raids weren’t uncommon in these areas, but there had only ever been one attack I’d heard of, and it had changed my life forever.

I shook my head to get away from my thoughts and focused on getting to my locker. I knew I was in Hall B; the letter hung by nails on the walls at regular intervals, but the lockers were so packed by students, it was hard to see the small numbers on their fronts. There was only one high school at Stonington so everyone was here.

I headed down the corridor, hoping the throng would diminish. Soon enough, I started to see the numbers better and took a silent relieved sigh when I saw that locker 103 didn’t have any neighbors. I dropped my bag with a clank on the floor and started twisting the small knob.

~David~

It used to take more than an unfamiliar face to grab my attention. There were over a thousand students at Stonington High so I saw new faces every day. But there was something different about this one face. There was an unsettling detached look in her eyes, as if she were staring from the inside of an orb that closed her off from the rest of the world. But the strange thing was that even though she seemed so cut off and in the clouds, her movements looked incredibly down to earth, precise, and real. The mixture was confusing and I wanted to move closer, but then a wave of students assailed me and I saw no more.

I felt eyes on me. It was a sort of a sixth sense I’d developed over the years. It wasn’t very useful in school for everyone was always looking everywhere, but at home it told me when I had to stay composed and when I didn’t have to anymore. I kept working on the lock, getting frustrated in the process, while ignoring the eyes. I had a sort of if you don’t bother me, I won’t bother you policy that worked well enough; it was a win-win situation for both sides. I finally managed to pry my locker open and stuff some things inside before I started off to find my way towards my next class, history, with Mrs. Melone.

~David~

I caught another glimpse at this strange detached girl walking down the hall. As I’d noticed before, her movements seemed preplanned, as if she’d planned and practiced all her movements days before. Yet she seemed to not take in the world moving around her.

Class was boring. I sat at the front and listened to Mrs. Melone drone on about the various wars fought in the last century. My thoughts wandered off when she started speaking about the worldwide epidemic that hit ten years after the Battle of Hywenock north east of Stonington.

I thought about school. I was okay with history, but everyone was usually pretty biased with any historical event so it was always hard to get the facts straight. That was why I liked math. It was precise and infallible. You could solve a problem in a hundred different ways and you’d still end up with the same answer. It was a constant I could count on. I also loved reading literature, but most of my teachers always focused on poems, which irritated me immensely, especially when we were asked to interpret them. From my point of view, poems were a waste of paper and ink, going on and on and chasing their own tails, and in the end saying something they could have said in three sentences. My mindset used to be, If you have a message to get through, say it loud and clear. Don’t waste your time trying to make it interesting or confusing.

My thoughts were interrupted when Mrs. Melone ended the lesson.

And that was the major lead up to the Pacific War. For homework tonight, I’d like a persuasive paragraph describing why an event of your choice was another cause of this war. Class dismissed.

I scribbled the homework on a notebook I used as a planner and quickly packed my stuff up.

I had two more classes and then it was lunch. As in any other high school, the origin of our cafeteria food was questionable, so I always packed myself food in the morning. The older students were allowed to leave campus during free time, so I intended to go find a quiet spot somewhere along my shortcut trails in the surrounding forest.

As I walked against the current of students, I passed by a pair of glass doors leading into the inner-school courtyard. I paused to look inside and saw Cassidy sitting alone at one of the lunch tables. She sat with her hands on her lap, obviously waiting for somebody. I moved away from the door just in time as she turned her gaze towards the entrance.

If I went in there, we could become friends. We could hang out after school, talk about boys and nonsense. We could paint each other’s nails, have sleepovers, go to parties, and watch the stars and learn constellations. We could have codenames for people we hated and maybe even a meeting place somewhere in the forest.

But it wouldn’t last long. Soon one of us would get distracted with something or someone else. We’d grow apart, and maybe even start hating each other. Or something might happen. One us might have to move away, or worse, get sick and die, leaving the other alone. For the sake of preserving myself, I’d learned the hard way that it was easier to not get close to anyone to start with. So I walked away, and not for the first time. I tasted some resentment, as usual, but I knew it was the best for me.

I felt freer and my mind clearer when I stepped outside. I made sure no one followed me as I took one of my shortcuts up into the forest, my satchel hopping back and forth against my side. When I reached my usual tree, I tossed my bag up into its branches and climbed up after it.

Climbing trees was one of the few things that hadn’t left me after the accident. I liked to consider it almost part of my blood and that if I ever had any children, they would inherit it after me, and their children after them.

Like a cat, I scaled up almost to the top. I’d never climbed to the very top but the temptation was always there, at the edge of my mind. I didn’t doubt my skills as to if I could reach the top, but I liked to think of it as a treat for just the right moment.

I sat with one arm wrapped around the trunk and the other reaching into my bag for my sandwich. Sometimes I’d dream about what it would feel like to fly; the fear, the adrenaline, the wonder, all crushed into one moment where the world was a hundred feet below me and I was as free as a bird in the sky.

That was my wish: to fly. If I were one of those characters I read about in books, whose fairy godmother or genie appeared out of nowhere to grant three wishes, I’d choose to grow a pair of wings and be able to roam the skies for the rest of time. That was also another reason I’d never been to the very top of my tree. I was scared that once I saw the world from so high, the temptation to try to fly would be too strong and I might lose sense of reason. I might really try to let go.

The trees were filling up with leaves again with the approach of spring, even if the muggy and wet weather didn’t really feel like it. I couldn’t see past the foliage and felt as safe in the leafy cocoon as I might feel free in the sky.

But I kept a close eye on my watch and after half an hour, I reluctantly climbed back down and headed back to school.

I had three more classes and then at last I was free to go home. As usual, the front door was unlocked. I slipped inside and stopped by the kitchen. My mom had left a note on the counter.

At Joyce’s school, another tree-climbing problem with the principal. Be home soon.

Kisses!

Mom

I smiled and tossed the note in the trash. Against my mom’s will, I’d taught my brother how to climb trees too and now he seemed happier up in branches than on the floor. I went up the stairs two at a time and dropped my backpack on the floor, but then paused. The window was open.

I usually kept it open because I liked the breeze, but not when I was at school. I usually opened it when I came back home. I walked over and leaned out, my hands on the windowsill.

A hint of a familiar forestry scent wafted by. Laughing voices rang in my head and suddenly I was in this same spot three years before, swinging my leg over and scaling down the small rope ladder I’d nailed to the windowsill. Ash and Lucas were waiting for me at the bottom. The sky was a starry show, and we knew where to go to see it best.

I shook my head violently and shammed the window shut. What was wrong with me? It seemed everything I did today reminded me of the past, when long ago I’d promised myself never to leave the present. Ever. Once again, it was a matter of self-preservation.

Homework, I thought, that will keep my mind safely on other things.

I had a small vanity pushed up against the wall opposite the window, which I used as a desk. I sat down and pulled my books and planner out of my backpack. Less than two hours later, I was done and had nothing to do again. I brushed past my bookshelves, my fingers caressing the age-old spines of the many volumes. I loved to read, to dive into someone else’s life for hours at a time, but I’d read all the books I owned at least twice.

My room was spotlessly clean. I couldn’t stand a mess so everything I owned was in some kind of order; whether it was age-wise or alphabetically, I always knew where everything was. I tried to make myself believe that precise organization would erase any margin for error in every part of my life, but unfortunately, that wasn’t true for everything.

I passed my window and out of the corner of my eye I thought I saw a dark figure streaking in the shadows. I turned back towards the glass and leaned closer but saw nothing. The days were gradually getting longer, but the light was already husky in the sky. After a moment of meditation, I opened the window and leaned out one more time, surveying the short yard, closed off from the adjoining forest by a small picket fence. I saw nothing suspicious. I shrugged and closed the window again, then heard the front door open.

Auri? my mom called.

Upstairs, I called.

Your brother’s not getting out of the car. She didn’t have to add anything else. I was very close to Joyce, and I could get to him at times when not even my parents could. My mom liked to consider herself a pacifist and hated to get into fights with anyone when she could avoid it, so instead of raising her voice with my six-year-old brother, she usually had me deal with it.

Coming. I walked downstairs.

Thanks, hun, She walked past me and carried some grocery bags in the kitchen.

I walked off the porch and across the front yard. Our age-old car stood in the driveway. I opened the back door to find my brother sitting in his car seat with his little arms crossed over his chest. He was trying very hard to pout and bring his eyebrows together at the same time. I tried not to laugh.

What’s the problem, chief?

His sky-blue eyes glared up at me. I got in trouble for climbing a tree.

Who got you in trouble? I asked, scooting in next to him and closing the car door behind me.

Miss Fendle.

And how many times have you climbed that tree?

A lot. Even though he was only six, he could easily speak better than a ten-year-old.

Have you already gotten in trouble because of climbing trees? I guess this was my fault, since I’d taught him how to climb in the first place.

Yes.

I sighed. Joyce, I know you love climbing trees. You know I do too, because I taught you. But you have to know when the time’s not right. I don’t think it’s a good idea to climb in front of Miss Fendle, or any teacher for that matter.

What about Mommy?

Probably a bad idea as well. But you can climb in front of Dad.

Why doesn’t Daddy get mad? Joyce asked innocently.

Because he understands us better. This was true. Between my mom and dad, Samuel had always been the one to encourage our adventurous spirit.

But, Joyce, you have to promise something. He didn’t look at me.

Joyce Isadele, I said sternly. He turned to look at me, still pouting, You have to promise me that you will never ever climb on your own, understand? You always need to be with someone, preferably with me, okay? I reminded him every chance I got, because I never forgot the risk that came along with teaching him to climb trees. I would never forgive myself if something bad happened to him because of me.

Yes. He sighed.

I smiled and kissed him on the cheek. Don’t be mad. Mom’s just worried. She loves you very much.

I know.

At that moment, my mom appeared in the doorway of the house. Her silhouette was darkened because of the background light coming from the kitchen.

Come on, you two. You father will be home soon and dinner’s almost ready! she called.

Coming, I replied, and then turned to Joyce. Come on, let’s go. You don’t want to stay in here all night, do you? The monsters will eat you.

There are no monsters! he squealed, excited. Later, I thought about how ironic his answer soon turned out to be. I unhooked his belt and pulled him on my back, giving him a ride to the doorway before gently dropping him to the floor. He ran to the kitchen to make up with my mom. I smiled and wished I could solve my problems so easily. But instead of following him, I went back up to my room.

~)(~

My first class the following morning was English, with Mr. Philip.

His classroom was even worse than the others. The room was filthy, the windows smudged, the desks ruined, and the chalkboard dirty. When I walked in, students were lounging on the desks, smoking, and laughing in their guttural and cracked voices. I crossed the class to sit in an empty seat next to a window. Maybe some fresh air would rid me of the nausea that was rising in my throat. I tried to visualize myself at the top of a very high tree, far away from here.

I felt a dozen eyes land on me as I crossed the room. Maybe it was my non-highlighted hair, or my non-purple lips, or my non-high-heeled shoes. Or just the fact that I didn’t stop and bow down to their royal-ass highnesses. I had a feeling today was going to be an off day.

What’s up, long legs? A boy with dark hair whistled at me from across the classroom. I continued on as if no one had spoken and settled silently in my seat, taking out my English books.

Yeah, Carver! whooped one of his neighbors. Going for the new girl.

He and Carver started passing a football across the room. I folded my arms across my chest and waited for the teacher who, by the look of the grimy coloring of the ceiling, was probably also smoking somewhere. I looked outside the window, hoping to see a blue sky, but the first sunny day since winter had yet to make an entrance.

Suddenly, the football crashed into an empty vase on the teacher’s desk, shattering it into a thousand pieces that spilled across the floor and around my feet.

I gripped the edge of my desk, my knuckles turning white.

Easy, I told myself.

Oops. That was an honest mistake, Carver said slyly. His friend laughed, settling himself against the wall. Out of my peripheral vision, I saw Carver make slow progress towards me.

~David~

And there she was; the girl I’d been seeing in my mind again and again all last night, just barely twelve feet away from me. Even if I could only see the back of her long hair, I knew it was her; the stance was recognizable. Carver slowly approached her, like some kind of sick predator. I knew what he wanted. He wanted the same thing out of every prey. I grinded my teeth and looked away, telling myself I didn’t care, and that it was easier to stay out of it.

Suddenly, I felt his presence right behind me.

Touch me and you’re dead, I said without turning around, without thinking. Suddenly, I felt a hand wrap painfully in my hair.

"Oh really? And how do you suggest that would happen, little bitch?" he hissed. I gasped as he twisted harder, anger thundering through my veins, and before I knew what I was doing, I was out of my seat with a handful of broken glass in my hand, shoving them in his face.

Carver let go of my hair with an angry grunt, grabbed my arm, and then threw me against the desk before someone came and pulled us apart.

Break it up! The young man shoved Carver back. Come on. Carver, just leave it, he said. It’s not worth the trouble.

Just then, Mr. Philip stumbled in. He looked around for a second, probably trying to remember what his name was and what kind of teacher he had to pretend to be. I picked myself slowly off the ground, wiping away a drop of blood from my lips. The student who’d put himself in between us pushed Carver to his seat, then glanced over his shoulder at me. Grey eyes looked at me curiously but then I turned away. Before facing the front of the class again, I caught Carver’s face, scratched and bruised from the glass.

Next time, bitch, he mouthed. I resisted the urge to stick my tongue out at him.

~David~

Thanks, man, Carver muttered, I coulda killed her for that.

Yeah, no problem, I said softly, glancing skeptically at the red cuts on his face. Leaning forward to look at her lean figure, I doubted he could have killed her. The bruises that were already starting to form along the bridge of his nose told me that much. This girl knew how to protect herself, but I didn’t say anything.

I touched the painful split on my bottom lip with a finger and sighed; so much for not attracting attention. But it had felt satisfying to finally hit something, to let out the raging emotions I’d grown so accustomed to hiding.

Mr. Philip then began droning on about a math formula. He’d obviously forgotten he was the English teacher. In the middle of the class, he remembered again and switched to possessive nouns, even if we learned those nine years ago, and by then he’d lost the little attention only I was giving him. I tapped my nails lightly on the old wood and turned to glance at the clock, but then something caught my attention. This was very strange, because these days nothing ever caught my attention, because nothing was worth my attention. So I was suspicious when I paused to look over my shoulder again.

When I registered what’d caught my attention, I immediately turned to look at the chalkboard again. I’d held his eyes for only a fraction of a second, but I was sure he’d been looking at me before I’d turned. I waited a couple of minutes, then peeked over my shoulder again. He was still looking, and didn’t even bother to look away. I glared at the boy with grey eyes who’d put himself between Carver and I.

As if I’d needed his help.

Class dismissed, Mr. Philip finally said.

~David~

And she was out of the classroom before I could stand up.

~)(~

Except for the cut on my lip, I didn’t carry any proof of the fight with Carver, but the news still managed to spread like wild fire. The trip to my last class was like walking in front of an audience, but I didn’t mind. Maybe they would receive it as a clear warning to stay away. The rest of the day would have been charmingly uneventful had it not been for Lucas.

He crossed my path out of the blue, talking to someone on his right, and it was passing time between block six and seven, so the hallways were terribly crowded. I didn’t see him in time to swerve out of the way before he knocked my books out of my hands.

Oh, sorr- He quickly glanced at me, leaning down to pick up one of my textbooks before our eyes locked. His lips froze, parted in a half-said word.

~David~

Something passed between her and the boy. I turned from my locker curiously, ignoring the blond girl batting her eyelashes at me.

I stared down at him, I could tell he hadn’t expected it to be me. I certainly hadn’t expected it to be him either. For seconds, my face was dangerously open to interpretation, and in the time it took me to regain my composure, someone knocked into me from behind and I fell forward. I felt something rip from my neck as Lucas jerked to a standing position again.

~David~

I didn’t know her name. I’d never even spoken to her. I didn’t know who the hell she was. But when she fell to the floor, I shoved my books back into my locker and started pushing my way through the crowd.

I fell to the feet of the throng of students around us, constantly moving like tides in an ocean. Their shadows passed over me, casting me into darkness and then into light again. I looked up at him. How stupid and weak I must have seemed, like a deer trapped in headlights. He looked down at me with frozen features, memories and thoughts flying behind his eyes. Then, he forgot about the person he was talking to, turned around, and walked away.

I looked down at my books sprawled beneath my shaking hands, waiting for my brain to start up again, all the wheels to begin turning once more and tell my sluggish body what to do. I knew what I wanted to do. I wanted to run after him and punch him, or throw him out a window, or tear out his heart and rip it to bits a thousand times. Maybe then he’d get the message. But I sat up and started picking up my books as fast as I could.

Are you okay? Someone kneeled down next to me, reaching for my bag, which had zipped open and sprawled its contents. I looked up and found overwhelming grey eyes staring into mine. I recognized him as the boy who’d intervened during the fight this morning.

I ignored him. Tears were quickly spreading in a thick film over my eyes. I grabbed the satchel out of his hand, hugged my books to my chest, and walked away, concentrating on the ground in front of me. My shoulders were shaking. I felt claustrophobic from all the students packed in the corridors. I pushed my way to the nearest double door exit. I didn’t care where it led to as long as I was alone.

The courtyard was thankfully empty and there was only one door where people could look in from. I made a point of sitting against that wall so no one would be able to see me.

I pressed the palms of my hands against my eyelids until I saw colors behind my eyes.

Stupid, stupid, I told myself, stupid! Look where you’re going next time, and this won’t happen.

I bit down hard on my tongue until I could taste blood and then clenched my hands into fists and pressed my forehead to my knees until my heart slowed down and I could breathe normally again. I took a deep breath and leaned my head back, looking at the grey sky. It was drizzling slightly and the mist felt good on my hot face. Then I heard one of the two double-glass doors open.

I turned to see who was interrupting my private moment. That guy, Carver’s friend, stood about ten feet from me, one foot in the courtyard and one still in the school hallway. He seemed unsure of what to do.

~David~

Her lips were slightly tinted red, her lower lip split from the fight. I wasn’t sure what to do. I wondered if I should offer to go beat up the guy that ran into her, but it seemed a little too straightforward. I had no idea what had happened, but a growing feeling in my chest yearned to know what was wrong with her, what made her so brave, yet so clearly afraid of something…

What? I demanded. I only spoke because I knew my voice wouldn’t shake. Rule number one: never let others know your moments of weakness.

Are… He hesitated. Are you okay?

~David~

Some part of me warned me that if I stepped completely into the courtyard, there was no going back. I couldn’t exactly explain it, but for the first time in my life, there was something mysterious and attracting and new. I wasn’t going to let it fly through my fingers.

You already asked me that before, I said icily. He’d probably taken the wrong door anyway.

But then he fully stepped into the courtyard and moved closer. What did he want? I didn’t know. Maybe Carver hadn’t passed on the responsibility of getting back to me, even though he didn’t seem the type to pass on a good beating. Too bad he wouldn’t be getting one out of me.

Yeah, he agreed. But you never answered.

I turned to glare at him.

~David~

Her eyes were thunderous, like a storm. I’d never forget the feeling of being pierced by their anger. And suddenly, I felt as though I were being challenged. Like a wild animal daring you to step closer, to see how close you could get without being bitten.

But his face looked completely sincere. He even decided to take a couple of steps forward. I shifted through a series of emotions in my head, unsure of which one to show as I looked at him suspiciously. In these few moments, I was able to observe him better. He was tall, taller then me, and had a lean physical composure. He had dark brown hair and eyes that hinted at silver, which irritated me because there was no such eye color as silver and I couldn’t decide whether they were green or blue. His casual stance warned me even more to stay on my guard. He was what most people would call disarmingly handsome, but what I liked to call a deceiving bastard who takes advantage of his looks. Why else would he be here but to try and cause more harm? He had no reason to be nice to me, and people aren’t nice unless they have a reason to or they want something from you.

~David~

Suddenly she was up on her feet with her bag on her shoulder and brushing past me, her long dark hair flicking against my face, leaving me stranded.

I’m not taking anymore crap today, she muttered as she slammed the door behind her. And I was left in the courtyard, alone, thinking one thing.

There’s nothing I love more than a challenge.

~)(~

Honey, is that you? my mom called from the kitchen.

Yeah. I ran up the stairs two at a time.

How was school? She appeared at the bottom of the staircase with an old pot and a kitchen rug in her hands, wearing an apron.

Great. I wished we could get past pretending that I was normal. I loved my parents and I knew they were smart enough to sense that I wasn’t the same girl anymore, so I didn’t understand why they still tried to act like… before. It was really starting to annoy me. I dropped my bag on my bed and walked towards the window. I paused next to the old mirror hanging from my wall. I looked as normal as a Stonington high school student will ever get; long, dark hair, olive skin, brown eyes, high cheekbones. But inside, I wasn’t normal. Not anymore.

I pulled up the bottom on my shirt and twisted to look at the reflection of my back. A long line of purplish bruises was forming near my right hip where I’d been pushed against the desk. Then I turned around to face the mirror again and my eyes widened when I looked at my neck. I brought my hand to rest on my collarbone, where for three years a little silver dove charm had hung on a delicate chain. It wasn’t there anymore. My eyes immediately fell to the floor, hoping I’d just recently dropped it. Since I’d first put it on, I’d never taken it off. Ever. And since then, my hand had gotten into this little tick of reaching up to touch the tiny bird with my fingertips and make sure it was still there.

Damn it, I muttered, trying to think of when I’d last touched it. Then it came to me. Today in the school corridor when I’d run into Lucas, I’d felt something tear from my neck. I bet I’d dropped it then.

So I suddenly knew where it was. I didn’t even stop to think, because if I’d paused to really think it through, I knew I would have never done it, not after everything that had happened yesterday and today. So I calmly turned and walked down the stairs again,