Naomi Grim
Book One of the Silver Scythe Chronicles
(Part 2)
Naomi Grim
Book One of the Silver Scythe Chronicles
(Part 2)
Other books by Tiffany Nicole Smith:
Books 1-4 of the Fairylicious Series
The Thing About Scorpions (Scorpions 1)
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author's imagination or, if real, are used fictitiously.
Copyright © 2013 by Tiffany Nicole Smith All rights reserved. No parts of this book may be copied or reproduced in any matter whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. Printed in the United States of America.
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Twisted Spice Publications
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Naomi Grim
Book One of the Silver Scythe Chronicles
(Part 2)
Tiffany Nicole Smith
Naomi Grim
Part 2
Chapters 11-21
Part Two
Kennedy High
Chapter 11
Bram, Dorian, and I followed the herd of students into Kennedy High’s main building. The three of us received a few stares. New kids dressed all in black, wearing shades. Three Grims in a public high school. We obviously stuck out.
Bram took a folded piece of paper from the pocket of his hoodie. The paper contained Doyle's instructions of what we were supposed to do once we arrived. "We need to go to the front office to get our schedules."
As we entered the building, I had a queasy feeling in my stomach. I willed my knees not to shake.
Groups of kids huddled in different areas, carrying on conversations. Two loud girls walked behind us. "Oh my God, when he did that, I just died," one said.
Dorian turned around. "Who? Who just died?"
I grabbed his arm and turned him back around. "It's just an expression."
"Oh, right."
Fluorescent lights reflected off the gray tile. Beige walls decorated with colorful posters surrounded us. Glass cases filled with plaques and trophies lined the school's entryway. The words that came to mind were noisy and shiny—the hallway was too much of both those things. The strangeness of the place made me homesick immediately.
We entered the front office. It smelled . . . different. That was the only way to explain the odor. It just wasn't a smell I'd encountered before. I identified the smell as coffee mixed with something else. The three of us stood at the front counter as adults and kids milled around the busy office.
A lady in red-rimmed glasses came over to us. "May I help you?"
"Yes," Bram answered. "We're the Griswalds. It's our first day." Doyle thought it would be best if we didn't use our real last names—Grim.
"Oh, yes. First, I'm going to have to ask that you remove your hoods and sunglasses while inside the building. It's school policy," the woman told us. We did as she said while she went to a computer at the end of the counter. "I'll print out your schedules and then Morgan, our new student liaison, will show you around."
As we waited for our schedules to emerge from the ancient-looking printer, a girl who I assumed to be Morgan arrived. She was way too cheerful for this time of morning. She wore all pink—a pink pleated skirt and a pink polo under a pink sweater vest. Her blond curls were pulled into a side ponytail.
"Welcome to Kennedy High!"
We stared at her.
I think Dorian finally muttered a thanks.
"Here we go," said the woman, whose name we learned was Mrs. Clark. "There's also a map of the school. Here are locks for your lockers." She handed us the locks, wrapped with a sheet of paper. "The combinations are on the page. Just choose an empty one and put your lock on it."
I took my lock, schedule, and map from her. I was classified as a sophomore, which apparently meant I was in my second year of high school. Bram was a senior and Dorian was a freshman. I had Homeroom, Language Arts, Biology, American History, Spanish, Algebra I, and Physical Education. I suddenly wished I had paid better attention to our studies the past few days.
"All right, I'll show you all to your first classes," Morgan practically yelled as she led us from the office.
Bram folded his schedule and shoved it into the pocket of his jeans. "You can show these two around. I'm sure I can follow a map," he told Morgan. "I'll see you guys after school. Good luck."
I watched him walk away, leaving us in Morgan's clutches. Dorian and I looked at each other.
"Okay, let me see your schedule," Morgan demanded, snatching Dorian's schedule from his hand. "Your homeroom class is right down the hall. I'll take him, and then I'll take you to your class."
I nodded. Morgan sounded like my mother. As we walked Dorian to his class, my eyes scanned the hallway for Keira and Josh. Where were they? Surely they would have to go to the office also to claim their schedules.
Morgan pointed to the classroom as if she was showing off a new house. "Here you are. Now meet me in front of the staircase after your class so I can show you where to go next. Good luck!"
"Later, Dorian," I said.
"Later," he muttered. I hated that he looked terrified. I imagined I didn't look much better.
My classroom was upstairs. I followed Morgan as she shared important facts about the school that I tuned out. There was no need for me to know any of those things.
"Here we are," Morgan announced. I got the same instructions Dorian got about meeting her in front of the staircase after first period.
"Thanks, Morgan. I appreciate your help," I said, trying to be as nice as I could possibly be.
She left me, and I stood in the doorway. I remembered Doyle telling us to go up to the teacher and introduce ourselves. I tried to recall what he'd told us to say.
A woman with short black hair in a yellow dress sat at a desk in front of the classroom. She typed on a laptop as students filed into the room. I looked at the silver watch Father had given me for my birthday. Class was scheduled to begin in four minutes.
"Excuse me," a girl said from behind me with an edge of annoyance in her voice. I was blocking the door. I entered the classroom and stood to the side.
I took a deep breath. Mother and Father were the only teachers I'd ever had. I didn't want to start off on the wrong foot with my first human teacher. I walked to the desk. "Good morning, Ms . . ." I looked at my schedule. Her name was long and impossible to pronounce, so I stopped talking. She must have thought I was an idiot. Great first impression, Naomi.
She stood and smiled. "Everyone calls me Ms. G."
"Today's my first day. My name's Naomi Grim—Griswald."
Ms. G. offered me her hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Naomi. Hold on a sec."
She went to a cabinet and pulled out a book. "Here's your textbook, and you can have a seat in the first row, second desk."
I took the heavy book and followed her directions. My first class was homeroom, but it would turn into American History. I slid down in my seat. More students entered just as the bell rang. No one paid any attention to me, which was a good thing. I wanted to blend in.
Ms. G took attendance. She called my name last. "Griswald?"
I said nothing. I was busy staring out of the window. Someone in a security uniform was
wrangling up stray students on the school's front yard.
"Griswald?"
That was me. I would have to remember that. "Oh, here." The other students had said that when their names had been called. Now everyone stared at me. Great.
We listened to the morning announcements over the intercom. I heard something about a bake sale and a basketball game. After that, homeroom was over. It was time for American History. I tried to be interested, but I wasn't. The information wasn't anything I needed to know. It wasn't my history. Grades meant nothing to me. I spent the period staring out of the window. It probably wasn't a good idea for me to have a window seat—I fell into daydreams easily.
After class, I spotted Morgan standing in front of the staircase in all her pinkness. She looked around, probably searching for me and Dorian. I went the other way to avoid her.
On the way to Algebra, I spotted Keira in front of an open locker. I pushed my way through the crowd of students toward her.
"Keira!"
She turned and smiled, relieved. We hugged like we hadn't seen each other in years. She was dressed just like me, all in black.
"I'm so happy to see you," I said. "Where were you guys this morning?"
"Nay, it took both my parents and me to pry Josh from his bedroom this morning. All of a sudden he was terrified. He made us late."
I felt bad for Josh. I hoped he was okay.
Keira closed her locker. "So, how was your first class as a human teenager?"
I was about to answer, but then the bell rang. The hallway was completely empty. "Uh, I think that means we're late."
Keira sighed. "Great. Look there's an empty locker there." She pointed to a locker three spaces over from hers. I removed my lock from my backpack and claimed the locker.
Keira pulled her schedule from her pocket. "I have Algebra next, Room 308."
I looked at my schedule. "Me too." I grabbed her arm. At least I wouldn’t have to walk in late alone.
We found the 300 wing. Mr. Bertelli was our Algebra teacher. The door to his classroom was locked. Keira knocked. A boy with shaggy hair opened the door for us.
The class was silent except for Mr. Bertelli, who was explaining something at the front of the classroom. He stopped mid- sentence and looked at us. "Can I help you?"
"Sorry we're late," Keira said, "but it's our first day."
Mr. Bertelli nodded. "That's quite all right, but only because it's your first day. There are two seats in the back."
Keira and I made our way to the back as everyone eyed us. I felt totally self-conscious. Thankfully, our seats were right next to each other.
Mr. Bertelli was a plump man who was almost completely bald except for a ring of fluffy hair that surrounded his head looking like brown cotton candy. He was saying something about variables and exponents and then he stopped. "I think this would be a great place for our new students to introduce themselves."
Again, all eyes were on us. What was he talking about? Ms. G hadn't made me do anything.
"Why don't you go first? Please stand," Mr. Bertelli said, pointing at me.
I looked at Keira. She gave me a small smile as I stood. "My name is Naomi Griswald." I remembered that time. I didn't know what else to say. "Can I sit down now?"
"Where are you from?" Mr. Bertelli asked.
"Nowhere."
Some kids snickered.
Mr. Bertelli frowned. "So you're a comedian?"
Keira cleared her throat. I looked at her, and she shook her head.
"Oh, I mean Sacramento, California." That's what we were supposed to say when we were asked that question. What was I thinking?
"What brings you to Kennedy High?" Mr. Bertelli asked.
"My father's job got transferred." I was happy I didn't blurt out, "Some of you are going to die, and I'm here to collect your lifestones. Nice to meet you."
Finally, he let me sit and asked Keira to stand. She gave her introduction flawlessly. Her name was Keira Griffin and she was from Seattle. We received stares for a long time after that. I hoped it was just because we were new and not because we looked like we didn't belong.
The bell rang, and we gathered our things for our next classes, which we didn't have together. I stood and slung my backpack on my shoulders. I heard Keira gasp.
"What?" I asked, concerned.
She nodded toward the door. "Look at that girl."
I looked in that direction and spotted the girl she was talking about. She wore a red dress and black heels. Aside from that, she was surrounded by a faint yellow light. That glow meant only one thing—the girl was one of the Fated, doomed to die. It wouldn't be long now.
Chapter 12
My next class, Biology, was uneventful. The whole time I thought about how much Dorian would love that class. I had one more period before lunch, Physical Education. I had been dreading this one.
I found the gymnasium and followed the other girls to the locker room. Some girls were already changing. They took off their shirts and pants, revealing their underwear, all without a care. I didn't think I could do that. I reached into my backpack and pulled out the T-shirt and shorts I had brought until I was given an official PE uniform.
"Better hurry up, Casper," said a girl with red hair. "Coach makes us run laps if anyone's late."
She was looking at me, but I didn't know who this Casper was. Was she talking to me or not? Still, I went into a stall and changed as fast as I could. When I stepped out, I felt cold and naked. This was new for me. In Nowhere, we were always covered. I looked down at my legs. They looked strange. I slid my boots back on.
"You're going to PE in boots?" asked a brown-haired girl with a multitude of freckles.
I looked down at my feet. The other girls were wearing sneakers. "I guess. It's all I have. Today's my first day."
"I know," the girl said. "I was in Mr. Bertelli's class."
A sharp whistle summoned us from the direction of the gym.
"Come on, guys," yelled the red-headed girl.
I followed everyone out into the gym floor, feeling extremely awkward and out of place. I longed for my jeans and hoodie.
The woman with the whistle was named Coach Bayne. "Kailey, lead the warm-up exercises, please."
A husky girl with thick, bushy brown hair ran to the front of the group. Everyone else spread out, forming four straight lines.
I was between the red-head and the freckle-faced girl. Kailey instructed us to sit on the floor and extend our left leg out as much as possible.
"The new guy Ashley was talking about is a senior. I saw him. He's smokin'," said the redhead. I realized she was speaking to Freckles on the other side of me.
"You have to point him out to me," Freckles said.
"Ashley already called dibs."
Freckles rolled her eyes. "We've been through this. You can't just call dibs on a guy. He might not even be interested in her. If she wants him, she better move faster than me."
Kailey told us to stretch the other leg.
"You haven't even seen him."
"I know, but he sounds like my type."
Please, don’t be talking about Bram. I hoped another senior who was making girls drool had enrolled this morning.
"Where is Ash, anyway?" asked the one with freckles.
"Cutting. She said she had something to do. You know what that means."
The freckled girl rolled her eyes. "Yeah, she has someone to do. Slut."
The redhead giggled, and I tried to figure out whether they were friends with Ashley or not.
After stretching, we played a game called volleyball. I remember reading about it when we researched sports in Human Studies. It sounded fun in theory, but I didn't like it very much. I only hit the ball once and that one time hurt my hand.
When PE was over, I drifted into the locker room, completely depressed that I had to be subjected to this torture every day. At least it was right before lunch, and I was starving.
I was happy to change back into my comfortable
clothes. In front of the mirror, I ran a brush through my hair. When I was done, I sat on the bench to stuff my gym clothes in my backpack.
"Have fun, Casper?" Red-head asked.
"Why are you calling me Casper?"
"Because you're so white. Casper the Ghost?"
I shook my head. I had no idea what she was talking about.
Freckles laughed. "It's a cartoon."
"Oh. I don't watch TV," I answered.
Red-head nodded. "That explains a lot."
That explained what?
Red-head and Freckles left the locker room giggling. The door shut behind them. A second later, Redhead opened it back up. "Come on, Casper!"
I grabbed my backpack and followed them out of the locker room and to the cafeteria.
"You're new here, but I'm sure cafeteria food is all the same. Buy the packaged stuff and you'll be safe," Freckles told me.
The cafeteria was loud and hectic. It felt like a thousand kids were crammed into one room. We grabbed trays and stood in line. Mashed potatoes and chicken nuggets were on the menu. It looked good, but I got the same thing the other girls got—a can of Coke, a bag of Cool Ranch Doritos, and a brownie wrapped in plastic wrap. Not the healthiest meal, but I was trying to fit in.
The other girls were in front of me, so they paid first. "We'll be at the table over there," Freckles said, pointing.
I pulled my backpack off and unzipped the front pouch. I reached inside and pulled out my wad of money.
"Whoa!" said a boy waiting in line behind me. He shoved my hand back into the pocket of my backpack. I wasn't sure what to make of it. His hand was warm, but my inner alarm was going off—this boy wasn't supposed to be touching me. Thankfully, he removed his hand.
"Don’t pull cash out like that for everyone to see. You want to get jacked?"
I wasn't sure what jacked meant, but I figured he was only looking out for me.
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