by Elena Monroe
My dad joked that I was surveying the land, mentally marking threats, and doing exactly what he does on a much more precarious scale. He loved finding small things connecting us since I was my mama’s shadow. It made him feel important so I never harped on it. Small victories.
Arianna
I transferred in a few months into my senior year, which meant everyone started classes and most likely fell into their groups already. I would be the odd one out, finding certain classrooms and trying not to eat lunch alone outside, until someone took pity on me.
I roamed around with nowhere to be, since it was the weekend and knew no one in this God-forsaken town. The campus was large and reeked of old money. The buildings looked like churches with the moldings and stone appearance.
They mocked us - out living us all.
The Seattle overcast created a strong sense of doom that didn't help brighten my mood one bit. I looked up at the light gray sky, cursing my existence and questioning the chain of events leading me here out loud.
“If you keep doing that, people are gonna think you're crazy. Don't want you stealing my role around here.”
The slender, brooding, raven-haired boy sat up against his elbow from the laying in the lush grass. His eyes were strikingly green with flecks of dark emerald. I squinted, trying to pinpoint any signs of imperfection but his skin was smooth and glazed with a brush of bronze. His pile of necklaces weighted his neck like chains, and my eyes scanned down the length of his barely buttoned red shirt that had a black palm trees pattern on it. The ends flew open threatening to detach the only button holding his shirt around his body.
“The only ones here who are this quiet are the nerds… or you're the new girl the school's been buzzing about.”
His words crashed down around me, breaking the thick layer of fog he induced around functioning.
“The latter–new-always new,” I responded.
His gaze fell down to my beat up shoes. A snort shook his body, as he said, “At least something about you is new.”
My peculiar set of eyes, a hue of violet rimming the ocean blue, darted down to meet his. “Can't say your brand of fashion is my favorite either.”
He took inventory of me, looking at my expression, as the sass slipped out of my mouth, for any insecurities. He wasn't going to find a hint of apprehension.
I struggled to find the shame in the words I said—that was the problem with my silver tongue.
He stood up pushing a hand out between our bodies and offering his name: “Austin-resident crazy. Empath. Running back.”
I looked at his hand, debating if I was going to go down this road again - for the fourteenth time - of having to say goodbye again in a quick nine months when we all chose separate colleges. An ache as heavy as all my other goodbyes made me painfully aware, and I locked my heart away before I looked down again.
“Look, I'm only here for nine more months ‘til college. There's no point of getting to know me.” My hands were up, and I even backed away to drive it home—a clear warning to stay away from me. I was heartache waiting to happen at the ring of a relocation phone call.
He stepped forward anyways, pushing his hand out even further. I noticed the rings, all big and bulky like they were heirlooms, not just jewelry. “Nine months is a long time. You want to be miserable? Come on.”
Who shook hands anymore? Who was this guy, and why wouldn't he give up?
I sighed, letting my shoulders bounce, before I pushed my hand to meet his.
“I’m Arianna. You should feel accomplished.” I stopped talking as soon as his palm touched mine to yelp out an “Ow!” instead, when the shock sizzled against my palm.
He looked up at me devilishly. “Well, isn't that a sign? Besides, I'm supposed to be showing you around campus, and Mr. Alba would lose it if I actually blew you off.”
He waved me along with a graceful hand gesture and I followed. Of course I followed, he was perfect, and we literally had sparks just fly between us. Even with my heart safely locked away, I couldn't ignore some kind of divine intervention.
I stopped suddenly, logically. “Why were you in the grass then?”
He laughed, turning around in his funky button down, barely held together still and ripped jeans. “I blew you off but now I'm into it. Curiosity piqued.”
My eyebrows jumped up into an arched position, looking at him in mock shock. He had the infection of an independent tongue too; all his honesty was a breath of fresh air.
I didn't ask where we were going. The futile journey around campus fed my hunger for an adventure. He pointed out various buildings unenthusiastically. His vibrancy faded quickly, and he was just as gloomy as the sky. Now, I understood the crazy he dubbed himself.
I was on board with his self-diagnosis and positive Web MD would confirm. He didn't perk up until he pointed out the faculty building—a whole building, just for the teachers. I really didn't belong here. In the public school system, teachers were barely paid a decent wage, never mind having a building to themselves.
He turned around, walking backwards. “Off limits. Keycard won't work.” His voice was soaked in curiosity and misguided behavior I found irresistible in men. The willingness to break a rule for a good time wasn't only something I admired but a trait I valued in myself. My own version of fearless, much more reckless.
Who would want to break into the faculty building? Nothing about that seemed fun, even though his childish grin spurred me on exactly how intended.
He clutched my arm, dragging me past the building as he announced our journey to the dining hall. Something about the faculty building drew my eyes back for one long, last look taking in the details of the old structure. The whole campus was out of an old gothic novel, complete with gargoyles at the entrance paired with an iron gate. A prison had come to mind as we drove through the gate earlier.
He opened both doors to the dining hall dramatically, letting them open widely for us to walk through. Someone should have given him a bullhorn or mic to just shout my presence to the flooded room.
Thankfully, no one was looking my direction, and if they were, then I was willing to add it up to the vibrant guy next to me, not actually me. He turned towards me, clasping his hands together in a praying motion, even though this campus gave more of a witch vibe than a come-to-Jesus one.
“So this is the dining hall. Overwhelmed yet?”
I squinted my eyes and smiled sweetly, giving him the perfect pair of salty and sweet in one look. “I've been the new kid fourteen times. I'm a pro now.”
He snickered, not a full laugh, as he stood in the same place next to the doors that closed behind us, overlooking the room, scanning it expertly.
“So what's the deal here? Everyone is stuck up? Rich?”
He waved a finger back and forth into a “no” in front of my face. “Here at Arcadia Prep we are inclusive, offer four scholarships a year, and wear uniforms to create unity.”
I snipped, “I read the brochure, asshole.”
His face immediately melted into a full laugh, slapping his own leg in amusement. “Arcadia Prep is every other cesspool of stereotypes, drama, hookups, and break ups.”
I scanned the dining hall with the long tables pushed together drilling in the inclusiveness the school was clearly built on. There was one table sitting horizontally on a pedestal of four steps that looked like an old stage. A group lounging all over the steps, like they reigned over the rest of the students, caught all of my attention. I wasn't doubting the truth in my assessment when my eyes glued themselves to the girl dead center of the group.
Austin’s shoulder crashed into my focused body, and I felt my balance immediately absorb the hit, catching myself before I fell over.
“That didn't take you long. Kate, senior, and she's Queen Bitch in these parts.”
I looked at him, trying not to be disgusted. It wasn't my first time being met head on with the Miss Popular type. I didn't have the same flare for dramatics. I held my own when it came to sni
de remarks, dirty looks, and pretty much pissing those kinds of girls off with just my mere presence.
“Not my first rodeo. Who are the rest? Some kind of cult? Her slaves? Followers?”
His carefree face turned dark, serious even, as his head snapped to me. I stared back at him, unsure of what I said that turned our conversation sideways. I wanted to bump into him in the same playful way but we didn't have that rapport yet. His serious expression honestly put me on edge, so much on edge I fell silent, waiting for him to speak.
The silence didn't last long before he dove in, telling me exactly who each person was on the stairs: “The one next to Kate is Luna. She's class president and going to make the perfect mom. Jasper is the one stealing all the attention without trying. Beau and Leo are our resident gay couple—probably the only one this school has ever seen. The twins? Cheyanne and Omari. It's pretty clear which one you don't wanna be on the bad side of. Nyx is our man of mystery. I'm surprised we even know his name. I can't keep up with the rumors explaining why he's so off limits.”
My eyes slid over the group, putting names to faces, when I realized he left out the guy sitting on the top step with his forearms resting on his legs. He was wearing red suspenders that looked like restraints. His intense and impatient glare wasn't directed at anyone particular, but in fact, everyone. He looked like he despised everyone equally.
Mental eye roll. A bad boy mad at the world at his feet. I am drawing a line and thanking myself later for caging my wild organ.
Otherwise, I'd be screwed.
If my heart was free to swoon, it would’ve.
His dirty blonde hair with darker roots was the best mix of good and bad I had seen. Apart from the scowl warding people off, his eyes did the opposite. They drew me in, dark with depth I wanted to understand.
Damn it, even caged, my heart still swooned for his muscular body and attitude to match how highly he thought of himself.
I was going to ignore he existed.
Pretend I hated him.
Austin started walking and my gaze followed, wondering where he fit into the hierarchy of high school. “What about you?”
Before I knew it, we had made our way through the dining hall and were only a few feet away from the group that you clearly needed an invite from to even speak to. That much was obvious when no one even attempted to sit near them, even at the tables close by. I never wanted to fit in that way—the kind of way that makes you compromise some part of you. I was content making people uncomfortable. It was easy being brave when everywhere was temporary.
“Queen Bitch? My girlfriend.” His voice was flat as he ambled over to her, leaned down, and proved it by having their lips meet with ease.
I felt my jaw suddenly go lax with shock, when the guy sitting above everyone quickly got up and fled the scene. He breezed by me angrily, like the presence of two more people set him off. He didn't say a word as he left dust in his wake. I found myself twisting around to watch him storm off, stuck on his crimson suspenders and the necklace around his neck hanging perfectly in the V of his shirt, showing off a pair of ram horns hanging from the thin chain.
How fitting. Aggressive, angry, powerful, and drawing me in - all at the same time.
I was so focused on him bolting from my presence I didn't notice every set of eyes on me. I turned back around, letting the noise creep in, a skill I was born with, the ability to drown out anything around me and focus. This time wasn't on purpose and certainly not the best time.
“New Girl! Hey!”
The snapping of the Queen Bitch’s perfectly manicured fingers cut through the haze left over, making my head snap in her direction.
“It's Arianna. Not ‘New Girl’.” I stressed the not, and she dropped her hand to her lap and smiled back at me placid, neither offended or excited. She was a tiger, lying in wait to pounce, completely unseen but lethal.
“Okay, New Girl. We aren't the enemy. Bolton, the guy who darted past you...? Debatable.”
Austin made eye contact with each person left sprawled along the stairs purposely when introducing me officially. I never knew someone to put so much value on eye contact, except parents when they drove home the same unsolicited advice for the tenth time. Eye contact did not mean you were soaking in whatever they wanted you to. Words were messy. Meaning was a hurricane made of feelings, motivation, and maybe some of your astrological sign feeding off the position of everything else.
“So what's his problem?” I asked in pure curiosity but a small part of me took it personally. How could I not?
Another guy, Nyx, the one Austin told me was a total mystery spoke, and the group fell silent from their small chatter. “She doesn't look that special to me, Austin. Purple hair, really? I'm out. I got better shit to do.”
He stopped in front of me, letting his fingers clamp around a runaway strand of my purple hair, giving it a swift tug as his eyes bore into me. Austin scoffed, with his arm around his perfect girlfriend, who had no reason to be a bitch. She was perfect on the outside.
That was the second guy to bolt from the room since I walked in. Was I missing something? And what did he mean special? Was I supposed to be? I raised an eyebrow, not sure how I fit into this environment yet. Solitude was so much easier. I didn't know why I was entertaining Austin and his insulting group of friends anyways.
Actually, I did know why. Even with a caged heart, I was still trying to fill the spaces left vacant by the love that was hard to feel between continents and a parent whose love was something I had to dredge up past memories to feel.
Bolton
A few days had gone by since the new girl had settled in Arcadia Prep, like she had been here the whole time and wasn't, in fact, new. She blended in with the group with no real proof she belonged.
I wasn't wasting my time on another flawless face. I was trying to find the last person our circle was missing, not a girlfriend or best pal.
The rest of the circle forgot that when they integrated her in without my approval. I let them pretend she was special—the one we had waited for, for fourteen years. They knew better than to cross me and get too attached.
Austin said he felt the impact of a shock as soon as their hands touched. I wanted lightning and the world to split open undeniably. I wanted unequivocal proof she was the one, so I watched her every move—not in the bathroom or her bedroom. I had boundaries. I'm not that much of an asshole.
She was painfully normal. She was naturally curious, though, which made observing her a dangerous game.
My new favorite game.
Every time she went by the faculty building, her gaze scrutinized the doors, willing its secrets loose. Secrets I protected fiercely for the group’s safety, tucked into the basement, behind limited access. No one could know why the unlikely bunch of us were friends, why we snuck into the building every Wednesday, or what Mr. Alba’s involvement was.
We weren't just friends.
We were Fate and Destiny wrapped up into unavoidable responsibility. None of us were able to move on until Fate and Destiny were satisfied with us, enough to spit us into the real world.
Arcadia was too small to not have classes together. The senior class was maybe pushing one hundred at this point. Everyone knew everyone’s business.
We all had one class together, Ancient History, taught by none other than Mr. Alba himself. He referred to this class as babysitting us, even though there weren’t enough students to get lost in a crowd.
Ancient History was more than the history of the United States, but about gods and goddesses, magic, and everything we didn't have to play down. We could talk freely and arrogantly as we wanted, because we knew our own history better than the books.
Alba made it clear that was our problem: arrogance. He was convinced if we just gave in to our humanity, we wouldn’t be in this prison.
We knew we were above humans, and we flaunted it just as much as our over-privileged asses or off-putting personalities. Each of us was slightly different.
I preferred a scowl above talking, listening, or any real effort for anyone else. Kate, our Queen Bitch, preferred pointed jabs, while Nyx preferred not talking at all. I would have loved to not talk but nothing would get done if my lips were sewn together. I was the only one making decisions.
Heavy is the crown who wears it, right?
I refused to learn her name or let anyone else deviate from the path of only labeling her as “New Girl.” I watched her clumsiness guide her into History, nearly tripping over her own feet as she juggled too many books.
This was the only part of her not adjusted.
Arcadia Prep was a college-level preparatory school, and everyone was already the smartest person in the room. She obviously came from public.
Nyx twisted in his seat in front of me, giving me a smirk and a raised eyebrow. We were both judging every part of her messy appearance.
Her uniform didn't look ironed, and her wrinkled white shirt was only half tucked into her skirt. One knee high sock landed at a different place on her shin, and her distastefully purple hair landed disheveled at her jaw line. It begged for attention, and without even trying, she had it.
Everyone’s. Except mine.
She sat down next me to with a loud huff displaced, shaking Alba’s disposition at the front of the class. Out of all the scholarship kids that came through here, she was by far living up to pity.
I glared at her, wondering why she sat next to me when I tried so hard to seem un-relatable and unpleasant. “Seat is taken. Move it, New Girl.”
Nyx started laughing into his closed fist, making it hard to deliver the statement without grinning too.
She glanced around the room at the empty seats and back at me before she quipped, “Finders keepers.” The shrug drove her lack of caring home.
I couldn't blame her adolescent answer when I was acting the same way. The seat was only taken by my annoyance of her being in this class too.
Alba’s presence between us demanded attention but I didn't bother looking up for the scolding. “Do we have a problem, Bolton? Hate to send my best student to detention.”