by L.A. Jones
Chapter Four
As her father drove her through the main entrance, Aradia noted that Salem High appeared to be a stereotypical American high school. It was primarily brick and plaster, with exposed metal struts and enough marble to show it had some prestige. The individual buildings that made up the school were all large with almost-opaque windows. The school's name was embossed in large, bold, red letters near the roof, prominently displaying both its notability and its notoriety.
The school itself seemed isolated. A low fence bordered the school, creating a weak but meaningful division between the students and the community.
As for facilities, it was equipped with the usual football field and track. Salem High also boasted a half-Olympic size swimming pool, which was pretty noteworthy. Aradia couldn’t make those features out yet first hand, but she could form clear mental images from the pictures she’d seen on the SHS website and Facebook page. The school’s Twitter feed hadn’t really been too helpful for her in that regard.
According to Aradia's intel, her new alma mater also boasted an impressive computer lab, classrooms of approximately fifteen to twenty students per teacher, an assembly hall, not one but two gyms, and a library.
A single-story library, Aradia recalled with a sigh of relief.
The one thing that definitely set Salem High School apart, though, was the black logo of a witch riding on a broomstick that seemed to be etched onto every facet of the school, including the website’s header.
“Have a great first day, Aradia,” her father wished her well.
“You too, Daddy,” she replied. He gave her a sharp, curt nod. Most people might have brushed the gesture off, but Aradia knew that from her father, it was a sign of both thanks and respect.
She stepped down from her father’s SUV and watched as he drove off, obeying the school’s five mile per hour on-campus speed limit the whole way. At that, he was gone, and she was completely on her own.
Unfortunately for Aradia, none of her research could help her navigate the school’s confusing room numbers and maze-like hallways. Without any experience in the new territory, her summoning ability wasn’t of any use either. Her ignorance was completely understandable as a newcomer, but it also reinforced her notion of being an outsider. She felt hopelessly lost.
Luckily, her father never got anywhere less than twenty minutes early, and she had a fair amount of time to wander and get her bearings. Other students milled about in the halls, mostly catching up on how they had passed their summer breaks. She didn’t even cast them a glance. She’d meet her fellow students later; right now, her number one priority was making it to her first class of her first day at her new school on time.
"Who is that?" Saul whispered to Keon, his commander.
The pair stood near their lockers, both wearing black and having no idea what clichés they were. Keon leaned casually against his locker. Saul stood dutifully on his right.
Keon shrugged flippantly, but nevertheless narrowed his eyes and focused on her. "I don't know. I have never seen her before."
"She’s definitely new," Saul continued. “Look how she interacts with her surroundings. She’s not comfortable here.”
“Neither am I,” Keon replied. “But I agree with your assessment. She is new. She smells like she is of the hidden race though.”
Saul sniffed. “Agreed. I can tell that even from here. I can’t place her scent, though.”
“No,” Keon agreed. “Definitely not vampire or werewolf.”
“Fae?” Saul proposed.
Keon sniffed twice, quickly, before definitively replying, “No.”
By chance, her path led Aradia right past the two agents. After she was out of earshot, Saul suggested, "Could she be a shape shifter? Might that throw off her scent?"
Keon shook his head, rejecting that hypothesis. "She is something more exotic, I am sure of it. Shapeshifters can only change their form. Their scent remains. They smell acrid and bitter, regardless and always. And she definitely does not smell like a shape shifter."
"Smells pretty damn good though," said Saul with a crude smile.
Keon glanced at Saul disdainfully.
Aradia was wandering back. They were on a twenty-five minute break between the second and third periods. Keon studied her as she glanced around the hallway. He presumed she was learning her environment, but she looked like a lost kid who had wandered away from her parents at the mall.
Finally, Keon muttered, "I should report this to the Sovereign."
Saul looked at him quickly. "Sir? She’s definitely something strange, but do we have enough cause to notify the Sovereign? You know how he can be."
"More than you know," Keon replied, "but that is irrelevant. We are duty bound. He commanded we report all strange activity."
"So far she only smells strange," Saul argued, but Keon was no longer listening. “She might just be something unusual from overseas.”
“I’ll make the journey tonight, personally, after sundown.”
Taking pity on his crestfallen comrade, he added, "While I am gone, you will keep an eye on her."
In spite of the fact that it was his command, Keon was concerned to see Saul's eyes light up at the order.
"Passive observation only," Keon added. “You are not to interact with her in any way without my explicit instructions. Understood?"
Saul nodded eagerly and distractedly, all the while keeping his gaze fastened upon Aradia, slowly licking his tongue over his fangs.
Aradia managed to get herself all the way to her third class without a hitch. Her first period, English Literature, had been a bore, and she was not at all looking forward to starting her day with that class. She found the subject dull, and the teacher had the strangest habit of looking directly to the left of the person she was addressing. It was both creepy and annoying.
Her second period, Biology, was much more promising. She looked forward to the section on botany. She imagined she was the only person in the class who could say that.
She enjoyed Break, the twenty-five minutes between second and third period. Most of her classmates used it to socialize and eat a snack, but she took the opportunity to wander the halls. The corridors were indeed extensive, but she was nearly familiar enough that her latent summon, as she thought of the non-glowing version of the power, would become useful. Once she got there, navigation would not be a primary concern.
One aspect of her new school did concern her somewhat: the students. At first, Aradia was too distracted to notice the students’ reactions to her. Indeed, most did not seem to notice her at all. After a while, she noticed some kids seemed fixated on her, not with repulsion or revulsion, but with fascination.
She had to admit seeing so many cute boys looking at her intensely was flattering. What was discomforting though was the fact that the girls seemed to be staring at her the very same way. As if they were seeing something that none of them had ever seen before.
Only a certain amount of the students seemed to be staring at her. Some of the kids, who appeared to be ordinary, slammed their lockers and chatted with their friends without taking a moment's glance at Aradia. However, right next to them there would be people who seemed a bit too beautiful to be real, and they would be gazing at Aradia vividly.
Is it just me or is this school seriously weird? Aradia asked herself. She then heard the warning bell ring, and quickly scuttled down the hallway to get to her class. All the while trying to avoid and forget the stares of the students.
Without realizing, she rubbed the spot on her left forearm where, after her and Kasey’s fall, her tibia had actually pierced her skin.
Eh, she thought, it’s probably just curiosity about the new girl. She put it out of her mind as well as she could and focused on the moment.
Third period was Algebra, and she imagined she’d enjoy that even less than English. At least in English class she might get to read Macbeth or The Crucible or Nancy Drew. She doubted they would find their way into he
r math course, though.
If a bathtub, volume V, is half full of water, she imagined, water drains at rate A from the drain, and Grendel drinks water from the tub at rate 2A, how quickly would Harry Potter have to cast a water spell to fill the tub within three minutes?
She was pretty sure that equation wasn’t solvable with the information she provided. She was the first to admit, though, that math was not her strong suit.
She was shocked out of her mind-numbingly dull daydream by, what else, a boy. He had light hair curling down to his shoulders. Most people would call it golden blonde, but she detected a hint of strawberry. She usually thought long hair looked silly on a boy, but this boy in particular looked anything but silly. He was clean-shaven, but his skin tone was so fair that subcutaneous facial hair was clearly visible, giving him something of a permanent five o’clock shadow. That looked good to Aradia too. He wore a buttoned up purple shirt, dark blue jeans, and appropriately fatigued black boots. The way the clothes hung on his slight frame, Aradia imagined he was thin, but very toned and muscular.
My God, he is so hot! Aradia thought before she could catch herself. Aradia, you don’t usually fawn over a handsome guy, she chastised internally. And by not usually, you mean never, of course.
She still allowed herself to stare. He seemed less like a real person and more like some living, breathing teenage girl fantasy.
Fortunately for her, he sat a row ahead of her and immediately to her right, giving her a clear view of his profile while she could pretend to be studiously watching the teacher. She enjoyed her view.
The teacher, a pretentious man named Mr. Davina, droned on about syllabi, final projects, and the pros and cons of a flat versus bell curve. Aradia mostly ignored him, listening just for keywords that might be of more interest. Just then, the boy she was happily objectifying turned suddenly and looked directly at Aradia.
This time it was she who quickly diverted her eyes. She played it far less cool than the students who, she imagined, were catching glimpses of her all day. She covered her face with her hand, as if that might hide the tomato red flush of her cheeks.
The boy, however, just gave a silent chuckle and turned back to the teacher. He knew I was staring! she realized, and turned an even deeper red.
Despite herself, she noted his clichéd perfect pearly white teeth.
After class, she hung by the exit to ambush her fascination. Stalking an attractive boy was no more her style than staring at one for a forty-two minute class, but maybe Salem was bringing out a new side of her.
No matter her efforts, she lost sight of him in the bustle which resulted from the end-of-class bell. He blended into the crowd amazingly well, even if there were fewer than twenty people in the class.
She was just about to use her latent summoning to find her way to the new boy. It would help if she knew his name, but he had to be close enough that she could find him, even name-unknown. Just when she’d focused herself to begin, her concentration was shattered.
"You're new around here.”
She turned sharply, annoyed at the intrusion. “So…” she began.
That was when she set eyes on the second-handsomest guy she had ever seen in person. The newcomer had long hair, too, but his was a rich, dark brown, which almost looked less like hair and more like the chocolate waterfall from Willy Wonka.
He was not dressed like any high school student Aradia had ever seen before. In fact, he looked more like he should be heading to the club than to fourth period. His shirt was silk, his well-fitted jeans were Armani, and on his left wrist he wore a green bezel fiftieth anniversary Rolex Submariner. She recognized it because it was just like one her mother had gotten her dad as a combination birthday present, anniversary present, and congratulations for winning a big case. Salem High must be higher profile than I’d realized.
“So?” the new boy asked.
He had the most charming smile Aradia had ever seen. She could tell it was rehearsed; there was no way a smile like that came naturally. She honestly didn’t much care, though. He wasn’t the guy she had been looking for, but for now, he’d do.
“Sew buttons,” Aradia replied and chuckled awkwardly.
Her new friend gave her a polite smile.
She then quickly added, "Is it that obvious that I am new?"
"No," the boy responded. "Believe it or not, you hide it remarkably well."
"Wish I could say the same about my bad grades," said Aradia.
“Well,” he leaned in even closer than he already was, and winked as he whispered, “for hiding those, it helps if you don’t announce them to the first stranger you come across.”
The boy joined her in laughing at his own joke and said, "My name's Tristan. What's yours?"
"Aradia."
"It’s a pleasure." He raised an eyebrow. "Aradia, now there is an interesting name."
"Yeah, so it suits me just fine, doesn't it?" said Aradia playfully.
He laughed again and asked, "We should be heading to our next class. I’d hate to make you late. Where are you off to next?"
Aradia dug her schedule out of her backpack and replied, "Study Hall. No! That’s fifth. Next is, uh, Gym. Then Study Hall, then lunch.”
"Well, being a freshman and a new student, you're liable to get lost, you know."
Aradia scowled. "Believe me I know."
"I’ll escort you to your next class," Tristan stated, holding out his arm to Aradia.
"Sure!" Aradia replied enthusiastically.
They really had eaten up most of their time between classes flirting, so they rushed as Tristan led them down the hall, through a doorway, and around a sharp corner. Aradia was so smitten that she was caught completely off guard when her supposed benefactor shoved her through an entrance which had been concealed by the sudden turn.
She was sturdy, but Tristan was surprisingly strong, and she stumbled through two doorways before she regained her footing. It only took Aradia a quick survey of her surroundings to realize exactly what room Tristan had shoved her into. About a dozen guys stared at her entrance, expressions ranging from surprised to amused. In horror she rushed back out through the same set of doors by which she had so unceremoniously entered. In bold, black letters, the sign on the outer door read, "Boy’s Locker Room."
Irate, Aradia demanded, “What the hell was that!”
Tristan nonchalantly replied with an awful but satisfied smile on his face. "What?"
She glared maliciously at him and spat out, "You know? You might look hot, but you're actually one cold son of a bitch!"
She then pivoted on her heel to salvage her dignity with a grand exit. Before she went, though, she turned and added over her shoulder, “And newsflash, hot stuff: those jeans are way too tight!” With that, she stalked off.