by Cici Wickens
I walk fast, following the brief directions scribbled on the paper beside each name, and get to the classroom before anyone else. Mrs. Sweet was a very small lady with short red hair. She assigned me a text book and gave me a seat in the third row. I thank her and compliment her on the polka-dotted blouse she was wearing, which earns me a smile.
Once everyone entered the class, she greeted, “Bonjour e´tudiants.”
I immediately respond, “Bonjour!” I thought the class was going to say it with me, but they all remained silent with bored looks on their faces.
Mrs. Sweet smiled at me and said in French, “Turn to page 431 and fill out a translation box for the paragraph.”
I glance around to see my classmates. They ranged anywhere from gothic, to country, and to some long-haired potheads. There were a few guys towards the back texting on their phones and tossing a football back and forth. It was a small class of around ten to twelve students.
One cute guy sat to my right. His skin was a few shades darker than mine and it looked like he had just gotten a haircut. I glance at the name and warning he had doodled along the side of the green binder that laid on top of his desk. RON BURLEY’S BINDER! IF LOST PLEASE RETURN. IF STOLEN I WILL BEAT YOU’RE ASS!
Hm. He obviously isn’t one to be messed with…but his grammar could use some work.
To my left sat Dara. She strategically combed out her bleach-blonde hair with slim, manicured fingers, and rubbed off the invisible fuzz on her skirt. I knew that her name was Dara because one of her friends had said to her, “Dara, you’re throwing a party this week, right?” And yes by the way, she is.
I sigh and focus on the task at hand. One of my strongest subjects is foreign language. It’s one of those natural talents. I pick up my pencil to begin working.
Once I am finished, I turn to Dara. “Am I supposed to bring this up there now or do we wait until the end of class?”
Dara gave me the evil eye and didn’t answer. My mood sinks. What’s her problem?
I jump in surprise when Ron patted me on the back and whispered, “The name’s Iris, right?” I nod. “Well, I’m The Ronster, with a The.” He introduced himself with a charming wink. “Here’s a little bit of advice: You should stay out of Dara’s path. I don’t know what you did to get on her bad side, but she’s got it out for you. And that’s no bueno.”
“Thanks for the tip.” I respond and start packing up my things. The bell should ring any moment now.
“No prob.” Ron stood up and held out his hand. “I’ll take our papers.”
I smile and hand my work to him.
Dara held up hers too. He ended up taking several more but didn’t seem to mind.
After class ends I go to second period. I have Chemistry with Mr. Collin.
When I enter, he gives me my Chemistry book and a form for my father to sign. He also told me we were allowed to sit anywhere we wanted as long as we didn’t cause trouble. I sit down in the middle of the front row after asking if the seat was vacated.
He called role and I learned that the girl with the earbuds I had encountered earlier was named Minerva Corvin. Mr. Collin walked to the ancient chalkboard in the front and began assigning partners. Sadly, Thomas got Ron, and I got Minerva. I wondered if fate was laughing at me. Minerva let out a sound of protest but was immediately silenced by one glance from Mr. Collin.
She reluctantly moved to sit beside me, slamming her book on the desk and plopping down in her seat.
I chew on my cheek for a few seconds. “So your name is Minerva, right? Mine is Iris. I just moved here from the outskirts of North Florida, and I’m staying on Howard’s Road. Where do you live?” I take in her caramel skin, blue eyes framed by thick lashes, and the long glossy black hair that reached her butt. She has wide lips and a strong nose.
“I don’t care what the hell your name is, and you need to mind your own damn business.” She snapped.
“Sorry, I was just asking.” I murmur and turn my head back towards the teacher. Jeez.
“Alright, students listen up. I know that everyone’s just got back from Christmas break and from celebrating New Year’s, but we’re back. So, it’s time to dive back in and get a good start on the semester. Some of you could use it. During this term we are going to focus on observations. Collecting data. Things in that area. Now I know that you’re all probably thinking to yourselves, ‘Why do I have to know this? How will this help me in the real-world?’ Well…I’m here to tell you that it doesn’t help at all. You’ll probably never use the things I teach you in your life again.”
“Why am I learning it then?” I hear Ron mutter under his breath.
“For your assignment, you will need to get to know your partner better. For example, Chloe you will go to Dara’s house, see how she lives, get to know her better, blah blah blah. I want each of you to understand that everyone has their own lives, and I want you to observe each other as though you’re observing a new species. Completely unbiased, factual. Then you will write a paper on what you learned.” It was an interesting take on a science project. You’d think we’d be balancing chemical equations or something instead. “Then the next day, Dara will do the same to you. You will be each other’s projects. This will be a part of your 2nd semester exam which shall count 30% of your grade. So, don’t screw it up. If these partner arrangements are problems for any of you or you don’t think your parents will be alright with it, please raise your hand now.”
I couldn’t believe Minerva raised her hand high and proud. I gawk. He strictly ignored her. I spent the rest of the period telling myself that I didn’t care if she didn’t want to be my partner anyways.
The bell rang, causing me to wince for a second time that day. It was so shrill and piercing to my sensitive ears that I wanted to cry. I always hated it.
I gather up my books and stroll to my next class. But, along the way, I spot Minerva slipping into the bathroom and decide to ask her about the project. The bathroom smelled faintly of smoke but was surprisingly clean. I gathered up all of my courage and walked up to her while she was reapplying eyeliner, even though she still had plenty.
I glance at myself in the chipped mirror before taking the plunge. “Hey Minerva, do you want to hang out this afternoon for the project? We could go shopping or something. My dad drove me to school this morning, so my car is at the house. But he could drive us home, and then we could head to the mall.”
After a couple of moments she said, “Sure, what the hell. The sooner we get it over with the better.”
I sigh in relief. “Awesome.”
I told her to meet me on the stairs after school, and then left the bathroom to go to 3rd period Calculus: Mrs. Wilder.
I enter her room, and something feels different. No. Strange. That’s the right word. A feeling of déjà vu washes upon my skin, sending shivers down my back.
“Hello!” My teacher greeted warmly.
I look at my teacher and notice that she seems familiar. Pixie-cut red hair, dark brown eyes. Doesn’t exactly ring a bell, and yet it still feels like I know her from somewhere. She gave me my text book and showed me my seat next to a girl with glasses and shoulder-length blonde hair, known as Jen. I sit down next to Jen and hold out my hand, hoping she wouldn’t leave me hanging. Luckily, she took it anxiously. I let out a breath I hadn’t been aware I had withheld.
“My name is Iris.”
“I’m Jen. You’re the new girl. Boy, you sure told Joshua this morning! I saw it, though you probably didn’t see me.” She laughed and pushed up her glasses. I decide to ignore the fact that it sounded like she had been spying on me, and stare at the thin paperback books with Japanese writing on them that adorned her desk. “You are not from around here, are you?” She said in a slightly mouse-like voice. It was more a statement than a question.
“I just moved here. I live on Howard’s Road.” I reply. “Heard of it?”
“You live there?” Her honey brown eyes widened. “I’ve driven down that road once or twi
ce. The properties down there are beautiful.”
“Really? Well, I’m celebrating my 18th birthday on Saturday. You can come if you want. You’re the first person I’ve invited so far.” Probably the only one I will, I want to add. I’m not sure why I invite her to my birthday party, this girl I only just met. But, there’s something about her that lets me know we’ll be great friends.
She squealed, and Mrs. Wilder shot us a suspicious glare. Jen quickly lowered her voice. “That would be sooo cooool! I’ve never been to a party before. I could even spend the night, and we could get manicures, and do all of those things I’ve seen in the movies, but only dreamed about!”
“That sounds perfect.” She is a little bit odd, I’ll admit. Just a tad. But who am I to talk? I kind of appreciate her bubbly personality. “So, what are you reading?” I ask, curiosity getting the best of me.
“It’s manga!” She beamed.
“Oh, some kids at my old school were interested in that kind of thing, but I never really got the chance to get into it.” I say, recalling their dedication.
“I can let you borrow some if you want! I’m sure that you’d love this series. It’s my third time reading it.”
“That’d be cool.” I say, fueling her buzz.
The tardy bell rang, and Mrs. Wilder walked up to the board to begin teaching. She wasn’t very tall, so she had to use a stool to draw our lesson at the top of the board.
“Begin observing the examples on page 257. After you’re done with that, do all of the questions on the following page.” She said, sounding almost bored.
Her voice causes my breath to hitch. I finally place what seemed so familiar about her. Her voice. It sounded like it belonged to the woman in my dream. But that would be impossible. I shake my head, heart thumping and palms sweating. I’m being paranoid. It isn’t her. There’s no way. I’ve just got to calm myself down and stop letting this stuff get to me.
Perhaps I should discuss this with my dad? As much as I hate to admit it, I might need to visit a counselor or therapist. This can’t be healthy. I sigh and focus on my schoolwork.
I rushed through my work and finished early. I hesitantly walk up to her desk to turn my paper in. She gave me a pretty smile that does little to ease my churning stomach. I move to walk back to my desk, but she called out. I turn around slowly, afraid of what she was going to say.
“You forgot to write your name, sweetie.” My eyes meet her pleasant gaze, and I am unable to tear them away.
An awkward laugh escapes my lips. “Sorry!”
“Hey, Jen. Is Mrs. Wilder new?” I hear myself ask as I settle back down in my seat.
“Yeah. Just got here today. Our past teacher got fired for threatening us...or something like that.”
I’m not sure how to respond to that one, though I do relax a little. I had that dream last night, so this woman couldn’t be Queen Valencia. Too little time had passed for her to pull something like this off. Oh gosh, why am I even having this conversation with myself right now?
I had Mr. Grady for Gym. I quickly changed into a pair of shorts and a tee in the locker room. When I finish tying the lace on my left tennis-shoe, I walk out of the locker room and up to Mr. Grady, who was sitting on one of the old bleachers.
The gym has an unappealing smell about it. I glance at the windows—the windows that weren’t letting in much sunlight. The few rays that had made it through were at war with the dust particles that filled the air. I try not to breathe too deeply.
“Does this school have a swim team?” I ask, hopeful but highly doubtful. I sit down beside him, but not before wiping off an inch of dust where my butt would reside. Alright, maybe that’s a bit of an exaggeration.
Mr. Grady nodded his balding head, “Why yes it does. You’re looking at the coach.” I take in what appears to be a beer-belly. No offense, but he doesn’t look like the swimming type. As a matter of fact, if he were thrown into a pool, it would be a true miracle if he made it out alive. I’m honestly surprised that the school would have a swim team though. I wouldn’t think that it had a budget with that kind of allowance.
“Do you think I could join? I know the season is over, but I’d really enjoy the practice time.” I just wanted some swim time in. You’d think with my new house being so big it would have a swimming pool. That’s the one thing it lacks though. I needed to ask my father about getting one.
His eyes widen excitingly. “Of course! I could use another excellent swimmer to inspire the younger ones. You can tryout after school next Monday. Don’t disappoint me kid.”
“I won’t.” I promise.
Mr. Grady looked around and noticed that everyone was done getting dressed. “Alright, everyone outside! It’s time for y’all to run the mile.” I hear multiple students protest.
We walk out the double doors and stand outside by a big oak. “Alright. Those of you who do not know this…” He looked pointedly at me. “You need to run four laps around the fence line of the school, no cuts. You are allowed to walk if you can no longer run.” He looked off into the distance as if remembering something. “I remember being forced to run when I was younger. It was not a fun thing. I hated it. Everyone would laugh, you know, because I was overweight. I used to cry myself—” Mr. Grady flushed red. He’d obviously hadn’t realized he was speaking out loud. I felt bad for him as a couple of the guys snickered. He cleared his throat. “Alright! Into positions.”
I plant my feet on the concrete, getting into my stance to run. I smile at Ron as he took his place beside me. “I didn’t know you were in this class too.” I say.
“Unfortunately, I have to take a gym class to graduate.” Ron muttered as a few of our other classmates surround us.
I chuckle.
Mr. Grady held up his watch counting, “One…two…three!”
I’m quick to start, loving the feel of the misty, wet, wind in my lungs. It was such a drastic change from the stinky air inside. I listen to my footsteps pounding on the cracked concrete, wishing I was in a moist forest or even running on water.
“The new girl’s fast!” A guy retorted.
“We can’t let her beat us man, come on!”
I quickly finish my first lap, the guys now nearly half a lap behind. I smile to myself and run harder, taking steady breaths. I pass some girls who were walking, and accidently bump into Dara. “Watch it!” She snapped.
I don’t stop or even slow to apologize. The guys are about 30 yards…20 yards…10 yards…5 yards away from me. I slow down my pace when I run up beside them. “Hey guys.” I say with a smug smile.
Their eyes widened. “What did they feed you at that other school?”
I shrug my shoulders and run past them. I realize that a guy with dark hair is right behind me. Had he been there the whole time?
I ignore him for now and lap the guys again. The dark-haired boy stayed right behind me, as quiet as ever. I try to speed up, to test his speed. He matched my pace. I quickly finish off my last lap, running the fastest I had ever run, and yet he still stayed right behind me.
And then the mile was over, and we walked over to Mr. Grady. “4 minutes and 10 seconds.” Mr. Grady said incredulously to me.
“What was mine?” The dark-haired guy asked. I want to ask him how he was able to run that fast, but I don’t want to be weird.
“4 minutes and 12 seconds, Blaze.” Cool name.
Blaze nodded his head and walked off without asking permission. Mr. Grady didn’t seem to mind though.
“How do you two run the mile that fast? That’s incredible!” Mr. Grady asked me, wanting answers.
“I’ve always been able to run like that.” But I don’t know how he ran that fast.
Ron sauntered over to me, looking pleased with himself.
I cross my arms over my chest and eye him closer. “You didn’t even break a sweat! How?” I demand unbelievingly.
Ron laughed until he doubled over. He huffed dramatically. “As if I’d run a damn mile! Let’s just say that I ha
ve my ways…and girl, you took off and left me behind! Here I was thinking that we were gonna’ run together, that we were friends! But you shot off like a runner in the Olympics!”
I wince. “My bad.”
Ron and I chat for a while, and eventually, he asked the question that I’ve been dreading. “So…how come you transferred?”
I kick at some rocks to by myself some time. I get the feeling that he wouldn’t judge me. Still, he’d be the first person that I shared the details of that horrid night with.
“It’s alright. You don’t have to tell me. I get it. But if you want to, I’m all ears.” Ron told me, sensing my discomfort.
I take a deep breath, suddenly filled with the urge to tell him what’s been going on in my life. “Well, about a month ago my mom...” I explain what happened in detail and feel a lot better afterwards. We end up sitting against a chain-length fence by the time I’m finished. We watch some students as they finish their last lap.
After a few seconds Ron said, “That’s…I don’t even know what to say.”
I shrug and pluck at a blade of grass. “I wouldn’t know what to say either. You’re the first person I’ve talked to about it. And it gets worse.”
Ron eyed me warily. “How?”
I grimace and wave him off. “Never mind. You’ll think I’m nuts. I don’t even know why I’ve told you this. I barely know you.”
“Come on, tell me! I can handle it.” Ron gave me a bright grin and elbowed me in the side.
I lean in conspiringly. “I’ve been having crazy dreams…visions, or something. The people in them keep saying weird things. They mention Hell-Cats and a pocket-watch. I think that something’s going to happen on my 18th birthday. At first, I was sure it was dreams I’ve been having, but the last one that I had…felt real. I could feel the moisture on my skin. And then, I tried talking to them and they freaked. The Queen, she tried to get Caesar to kill me. And I get the sinking feeling that this said Queen is my 3rd period teacher. And all of this stuff might be true because I’ve got some weird allergies.” I chuckle nervously, fully realizing how ridiculous this all sounds. I’m not doing a very good job at explaining it. I look at Ron from the corner of my eye. He had been quiet the entire time. “I sound crazy, don’t I?”