Huntress Claimed

by M K Masterson

  I'm not even sure I can shorten the summation of my life story up until this point, but I'll try. As far as I know, my name is Caden Walker. Shortly after I was born, my mother, name unknown to me, was killed in an "accident.” No one seems to know how, or even what type of accident. And no one seemed to know my father. And so, her friends, from what they have volunteered to tell me, Flora and Martin Walker, adopted me into their family and raised me as their second child. I had not even turned one when they brought me into their home. Their first child, a daughter named Sera Walker, was nine.

  Details about my past have always been left blank and were encouraged to be left blank. I only knew that Flora and Martin loved me very much, and so did my mother. Even though they would never tell me her name…or anything about her, which I found extremely odd, considering that these people that had "adopted" me considered my mother their friend.

  And this type of observant thinking led me to problems with making friends, especially kids my own age. Not to mention that my adopted parents had descended from a Romanian, nomadic gypsy tribe, who seemed compelled to move every few years. We never moved out of the state of Ohio, but we certainly moved around it. Never to very populated cities or always on the outskirts in suburbs, but regardless, making friends was difficult.

  I was always the new "weird" girl. I can't tell you what exactly would make me "weird," but whenever I would speak up in class or talk to the teachers or other students, I would get strange looks, and my peers would walk away from me. Or I would get the weird looks, and be told that my "thoughts" weren't normal. I remembered coming home one day after school when I was five, crying to Flora, that some girl said I was "weird." To which, she held me, brushed her hand over my long brown hair, and told me that I wasn't "weird," but rather, I was observant and more advanced than kids my own age. She had kissed the top of my head and had told me that there was nothing wrong with that, giving me the comfort that I couldn't find with my own peers.

  So by the age of ten, I had learned to keep my thoughts to myself, but by doing this, I became the kid who didn't talk to anyone, and thereby, becoming the "weird" "silent" girl. And this may seem sad to many, but to be quite honest, I was actually okay with that. I had the acceptance and comfort of my family, and I knew that we wouldn't be staying too long in that city. I just went through the motions of daily life until we would move.

  Then, two months after my twelfth birthday, Flora and Martin died in a car accident. They were coming home from picking up dinner, while my sister, Sera, was watching me. The roads were slick from the recent rain, and the car coming in the opposite direction lost control and hit them head-on. And because the driver of the other car was going 55 in a 35 mph zone, everyone had died. I had lost what grounded me for so long, what made me feel safe and comforted. Sera did too.

  I think I must have been in shock because I don't remember packing up the house with many of Sera's friends, even though I remember them being over; although, I do remember moving into an apartment a few weeks after Flora and Martin's remembrance service. And I do remember parts of the ceremony in which there were many people I didn't know saying their goodbyes as we scattered our parents' ashes in the wind off a cliff-side on Geneva's coast because our nomadic parents didn't want a stationary grave to keep their spirits still. I must have been living in a cloud because the rest of that time period is hazy for me. There was so much sadness and grieving.

  Sera and I were both inconsolable for a long time. Not only had I closed up around other people, but I also shut myself off from Sera too. My safe harbor was gone, and it was difficult to put my faith in another even though I had grown up with Sera. Especially because I had grown up with her, I worried that she might disappear too. I'm sure she probably closed up around me as well, not that I had noticed.

  Sera's life had dramatically changed. Flora left in their will that Sera had to take care of me if anything happened to them. I needed to stay in the "family." So, at the age of twenty, she dropped out of college and became my legal guardian. She gave up the lease on our apartment (we had never bought a house since we kept moving), and we moved away, again. And over the following two years, we moved to two other cities before coming to Erie, Ohio, my freshman year of high school.

  Over those years, I learned to open up to Sera again. We may have even become closer than what we would have been otherwise given our age difference. I would never see her as a mom, but she was the one who I ran to when I had nightmares, which was quite often after our parents' deaths; and they were usually the same nightmares. There was nothing that I could particular make out at the time, but they always felt the same. I always felt suffocated, and when I woke up, I was sweating and out of breath. And she was always there to comfort me.

  We, of course, had our sibling spats, which was healthier than the distance. And whenever we got into fights, and I felt a move coming on, I would always snap at her that she was just running away from our past. It was one of the many pieces of ammunition I threw at her when we fought. She would always remind me that we were nomadic, and told me that one day I would understand. Ultimately, I admired her strength. I don't think many twenty-year-olds could handle the lot that fate gave her like she did with a maturity well beyond her years.

  So then, last year, we moved to Erie, Ohio, just in time for me to start high school with everyone else. In fact, Sera barely found us a house to rent before school had started. She had mentioned at the end of my eighth-grade year that she wanted more of a job in a high school setting. She really wouldn't tell me why. She tried to fool me that the hours would compare to mine, but when she worked at the local library as a secretary, the hours were very close to my school hours. I was pretty sure she was looking for a job in the high school to keep an eye on me; especially since we had been fighting more and more. She was probably worried I was going to become the rebellious teenager all those television shows depicted. I'm not saying that she was wrong precisely, but come on, a little more faith in me would have been nice.

  And a week before I was supposed to start at Jackson Township High School, Sera announced that she had gotten a position as an assistant librarian at Erie High School, two hours away. It really was fortunate for Sera, since she wanted a school setting, and she didn't need a degree for an assistant librarian. It did help that she was enrolled in Ashland University's Museum Studies program before she had to drop out to take care of me. But of course, this was another big move, and it had to be a fast move. Erie High School started three days earlier than Jackson.

  I don't know if it was particularly sad that there really wasn't much to pack, but the move was a 10-foot U-Haul with Sera's red, Kia Rio being towed behind it. And really, even though we had been in Jackson for two years, we were still living out of boxes. Most of the comforts I had grown up with while Martin and Flora were alive were in "storage" somewhere that I couldn't remember. Thus, "box moving" was easy. Unpacking was still an entirely new concept I think for both of us.

  When we arrived in Erie, we mostly pushed the boxes into the appropriate rooms of our rental house, which was larger than all the apartments previously, but not as big as the house I remember living in while Flora and Martin were alive. And Sera unloaded her college furniture so that we had couches, beds, a table to eat at, folding chairs, and the like; but we did not have the fortitude to unpack anything besides our clothing, bedding, towels, and essentials before school had started for both of us.

  Chapter Two

  Erie High School was relatively different from my other schools. Although it was considered a small school compared to the busy city school next to it, two thousand students were enrolled. My previous middle school in Jackson Township had a little over a hundred and fifty students enrolled, about eighty eighth graders. That was the largest class or school size before Erie that was part of my education, and even with eighty kids, I was still known as the "weird quiet" girl. I had higher hopes for Erie High that I could get lost in the crowd, instead of the former.


  Starting high school with everyone else was pretty awesome. My first day at Erie High was more memorable than any other of my school days. I had tried my best to blend in, wearing a matching blue long-sleeved T-shirt to go with my faded blue jeans. There wasn't anything on my shirt to draw attention to myself, and I knew it wasn't a color that made me stand out. The blue was perfect for blending in.

  However, as soon as I walked into my homeroom for the first time, this innocent looking girl smiled at me. Someone had actually regarded me and smiled. I glanced behind me, just to make sure it was me she was looking at. When I didn't see anyone else, I looked back at the smiling girl with twinkling blue eyes who had freckles that covered her baby-faced cheeks and tiny, pert nose. Thick beautiful, burnt-orange hair fell in tight curls down her back, making her green blouse stand out over her brown layered skirt. Sitting down, she looked shorter than me, which was a feat to accomplish since I was only five foot five. She waved me over to sit next to her while others either ignored me or gawked at me. She was just as kind as she looked.

  "I'm Meredith. Are you new?" She had asked me.

  I nodded as I timidly took the seat next to her.

  "I can't say that you are going to love it here because let's face it, school sucks. But stick with me, I'll get you through the worst of it. Let's see your schedule. Maybe we have some of the same classes."

  I had handed over my schedule to her wordlessly, and she glanced over it, hmming as she went.

  "Your name is Caden?"

  I nodded again.

  "That's really pretty and different. You're in a lot of advanced classes. That's awesome. My schedule is similar but backward. Band is only offered fourth-fifth, and I don't get math. So I am in General Geometry." She stuck her tongue out in disgust. "But we have the same lunch, which really is the most important class. And I'll introduce you to the best people you will ever meet. Especially Nate. He's a sophomore so he will look after us."

  I wish I could have said something cool after that, but I was so stunned that someone was actually talking to me, let alone taking me under their wing that all I could do was smile.

  Before we could have had more of a conversation, our homeroom teacher began giving us, freshmen, the rundown of rules and expectations for the high school. It wasn't too surprising to me, but I could hear a couple of other boys behind me groan. At least no one was staring at me. I had blended in with the class and had even made a friend.

  After homeroom, my first and second-period classes (American History and English 9th CP) weren't any different from any other school. Students stared and whispered when I entered the room, and being freshmen, we, of course, had assigned seats. Thank goodness, the teachers were somewhat predictable, and we were placed alphabetically. Being that my last name started with a "W," I was toward the back row. By the time the class had started, most of the students had forgotten about me.

  Third period had me meeting my other best friend, and the love of my teenage life, Nathan Spencer. I shyly walked into my Algebra 2 class full of upperclassmen, and again all the students gawked. A few even snickered. I had entered just as the bell rang, leaving me the center of attention, while students were already in their desks.

  "I think you're in the wrong class, little girl," a blonde-haired guy in a white and red striped, button-down shirt and khakis had snorted from his desk, (later I would find out that his name was Blaine Robertson. More like "Lame" Robertson).

  I had wondered at first if I was in the wrong class. I didn't see any students from my previous class. I was aware that Algebra 2 was the class most sophomores and juniors took, but I had taken Geometry already in eighth grade. Math was something I had understood. It had patterns, rules, and was analytical. And as long as that held constant, it was easy. Foreign Languages were like that for me as well. I had excelled in Spanish I and II in middle school and was placed in Spanish III, which was in the afternoon right before German I. I would probably be seeing some upperclassmen again in Spanish III. It was time to swim in my sea of upperclassmen sharks.

  "This is Algebra 2, isn't it?" I had asked quietly, keeping my voice from wavering.

  "It is," the most gorgeous guy I had ever seen responded. He had reminded me of the lead singer of an alternative rock band, wearing a black T-shirt that hugged his chest, and black jeans to match. Even his hair was pitch black with dark blue highlights. It was short and spiked. He didn't look too much taller than me, but he was built. He had sparkling hazel eyes that stood out against his tan skin.

  At the time, I believed he could hear the pounding of my heart as I stared into his eyes because he smiled mischievously at me. I had wanted to assert myself by saying, "then I'm in the right place," but I could only stand there and gawk.

  And I was truly grateful to Mr. Rybrick, our Algebra 2 teacher (even though I had later learned was one of the slimiest male teachers there; as he couldn't help but stare at the bare legs of the cheerleaders whenever they wore their uniforms on Fridays) dispelled the moment before any students could make fun of my awestruck reaction. Even if it was to ask me if I was Candace Walker, assuming that his list was wrong.

  "No, it really is Caden Walker," I had replied, to which there was more snickering.

  "There's an empty seat next to me, Mr. Rybrick," the punk rocker responded.

  Mr. Rybrick had glared over his glasses, the light reflecting off his balding head, as he towered over us before nodding. "I don't see that being a problem, Nathan. Don't make it a problem."

  "I won't, sir." Nathan motioned for me to sit next to him with a great big smile on his face.

  I practically fell in love with him in that moment. And as quietly as I could, I slid into the desk next to his, mouthing the words "thank you."

  There really wasn't much time for us to get to know each other, as Mr. Rybrick had started with his lesson for the first day. It wasn't much different from the other teachers that I had had earlier in the day: the class syllabus, grading, expectations, books, etc. In the previous classes, I had listened but zoned out here and there. In Algebra 2, I couldn't even concentrate. I could see Nate out of the corner of my eye, and although he was faced forward, I had a sneaking suspicion that he was having trouble concentrating as well. It was just a feeling that I couldn't explain, but it had made me feel antsy, excited, and hyper-aware.

  I had noticed that Nate was tapping his pencil almost to the beat of the neurons firing within me as if he was trying to find an outlet for my extraneous energy. It had been a long period, but when the bell had finally rung we both jumped out of our seats.

  "So, Mr. Rybrick said your name was ‘Candace'?" He had asked, turning toward me, as we collected our books and folders off the desks.

  "Yeah, he said my name was ‘Candace,' but it isn't. It's Caden."

  "Caden, I'm Nate Spencer. It's nice to meet you." Nate had extended his hand toward me, which I couldn't grab because of the books in my hand.

  But I had nodded and smiled. "I'm sorry. My hands are full. But it's nice to meet you." I turned toward the door, and he was in sync with me.

  "Where are you heading?" He inquired.

  It was a good question. I had completely forgotten to look at my schedule while I gathered my belongings. Fortunately, my schedule was open on top of my books.

  "Creative Writing with Mrs. Dine."

  "Ah, well, I can walk with you down the steps to the first floor. I'm across the way in Band."

  "Oh! I just met someone this morning that is in Band. Her name is Meredith. I'm not sure of her last name, but I would guess that it would have to start with a ‘W' since she was in my homeroom-"

  "Weber. Her name is Meredith Weber-"

  "Yes! She was super awesome."

  Nate smiled again, but it was soft and tender at the mention of Meredith. "Mere has been my best friend since before I could remember. Our parents work together at the hospital. Meredith's mom is a nurse, and my parents are doctors. So, yeah, we have known each other forever." He laughed to h
imself. "We even live on the same street. Granted, she lives on the one dead end of it toward the woods, and I live closer to town, but it's within walking distance of each other."

  "Oh? Do you guys live close to the school?"

  "Yeah, we do. We are on Crabtree. It's that long road that parallels the school."

  We had approached the steps, and I almost dropped my books. I wanted to bounce up and down from excitement, but I refrained.

  "Oh, my gosh! I'm on the corner of Chestnut and Crabtree! That is crazy! I can't believe we have so much in common!" I exclaimed.

  He smirked at me as we headed down the stairs. "I'm sure that we have more in common than either of us even knows."

  At the bottom of the steps, I moved over to the side and lingered. My social skills were lacking since I tried not to talk to anyone, but I was starting to become excited about Erie High. Already, I had made two new friends, and Nate was the only boy that I had even taken a second glance at…ever. I was definitely feeling excited and giddy, and Nate couldn't seem to keep the smile off his face as if he was feeding off of my enthusiasm.

  "I have to go right, and your class is to the left. I'm glad we got a chance to talk. Perhaps I will see you again today," Nate responded.

  "I hope so." I turned away from him with a bounce in my step. I remembered thinking how fortunate my day was going; especially after years of not making any friends, and school had just been a place for education, which was the reason I was in advanced classes. I had the time outside of school to really study and do homework. But I was making friends, and I might even have the opportunity to do those things that teenagers do that I had only read about in books: hang out with friends after school or the weekends, go out on dates, kiss a boy. The world was finally opening up for me, and I could feel that it was my time.

  Chapter Three

  What I could remember about fourth period was that I was anxiously just waiting until lunch. That was all I could focus on. I hoped that Nate had the same lunch as Meredith since they were both in band together. He could have another class right after band and have lunch after since there was another lunch period after that, but I wouldn't think about that.