The Huntress Book 1 Memories

by Mihaela Gheorghe

  When I saw the shoes in my visual range, it was rather late to be able to avoid the impact. It was as if I hit a wall that I've not seen. I fall down, the books pervasively. Of course, all the eyes were turned towards me, a fact that I hate whole-heartedly.

  I get up and I try to gather my books, fully aware that, in reality, I was the one who did not look where I was going. The first shock I felt was when I saw the person that leans along with me to collect my books. The second, I feel when I look at him. It's a new guy. I have not seen him before in our school. And perhaps he is a senior, or something, because he's a lot bigger than most students, with his football players or rugby stature, maybe even a little taller and broader. I've always been very high. Much taller than all the girls, and even than many boys. So I had a third shock when I had to sweep back my head back to look at him A face with a skin too smooth, like that of chicks fighting over popularity, with golden brown hair, thin nose, thin lips slightly effeminate. His irises caught my attention the most, because I've never seen such a color. If you have ever seen how topaz or amber with yellow spots looks like, then you know what I mean. If not, then I find it impossible for me to describe the color. A strange golden-orange brown. When he smiled, dimples appeared in his cheeks.

  “I believe these are yours.”

  He hands me out my books. I give him a hefty and a “Thank you” through my gritted teeth. I leave fast enough. Because of him, on me are focused almost all the eyes. I don't even need to lift my head to see that everybody is making fun of me.

  I hear behind me, something like "Who's she? But I don't look back to see who's talking. He's probably a new student. Because there is no other explanation. Somehow I almost burst into a hysterical laughter. /"Who am I? The poverty!"/ I could tell with hysteria.

  As usual, no one asks me why I was gone. Not me, in any case, which I am non-existent for people who call themselves norms. As if I would never be a human. It was as I wasn’t one of them. And, in fact, I am not one of them. I've never been. And also, as usual, time passes slowly. For some reason, the new pupil seemed vaguely familiar, but I wouldn't say why. The certain fact is that I've never seen him before in my life, but some of him was somehow familiar.

  The sound of the bell puts an end to Grey’s monotonous voice, the Biology teacher, and everyone else already has collected their books and booklets, hurrying toward the dining room, at the table. I move slowly. Out in the yard. It only mists. No more rain with buckets. I have never entered the school cafeteria. I didn't have any reason. I choose to leave the impression that I go out in the yard for me to eat my lunch, a sandwich or a fruit that never existed. My stomach is protesting again, but it's its natural condition. I rub it a little. Usually, this motion calms it down. The rain prevents other students to get out. I can only say I enjoy this thing.

  “Why you're not inside with the rest of you?”

  Before I get angry, I'm astonished. I think this is the first time when someone talks to me at school. And I know already who was doing such a thing. The new pupil. He's not too clever, poor him, if he doesn't see that I'm a pariah, if he does not see how I look.

  “Dude,” I say, “thank you for talking to me and all this, but if you want to have in this high school any social life, you better you back and stick with them.

  I look up at him. There wasn’t born the man whose eyes I can’t look. It seems to me that his irises have a life of their own, as if it would move something inside them. The eyes of this guy are the eyes of a tiger. That’s why I got the impression that I am in front of an animal. And now I realize something else.

  “You are the dude from the River, eh?” I say.

  He nods consenting.

  “I'm Dane.” he says.

  "I'm Pat.” I respond.

  Neither I, nor he, do reach out our hand. Usually, people feel disgusted with my poor and ragged appearance. Apart from the usual irritation, I do not feel any further annoyance. Just because he's a newcomer doesn't mean he's different from the others. So, I shrug with indifference.

  “So, shall I get that you’re still not hungry?”

  He smiles slightly, but he irritates me even worse. As if he would know how my entrails move inside my stomach. I do not bother to answer him. I look at him with boredom, giving him to understand that I would prefer to remain single. I don't mean to be rude to a person who has paid any attention to me. But neither would I hesitate to be, if he steps too much on my nerves.

  “Well, you know what? I'm a little hungry/” he continues as if he can’t see my attitude.

  And his eyes gleam, as a predator. If I would not be so set against what it seems to me that there are ironies on his part, perhaps I would retreat as in the face of danger. He annoys me even more when I see him looking at me so... from head to toe... like how he would evaluate me. I look back at him the same evaluative glance. He is dressed in the most expensive clothes, and wearing the finest shoes. Everything about him seemed to shout /”I am rich! Filthy rich!”/ The entire hair on my body stands on its end of anger.

  “Now look, dude, just because you’re full of money doesn't mean that you can treat those around you as you want! Leave me alone! Go inside, with them, where you belong! I'm not like you, don't you see?”

  I stretch my arms so he could get a better look at the absolute poverty in which I think.

  “I'm not like you.” I say then more slowly.

  I turn my back at him and I break into a run. I do not care where I'm going yet. The important thing is to get rid of him, of his searching look, of his yellow, freaky eyes. I seem to hear a softly “I'm not like you…” behind me, but it can equally be echoing in my head my words that lent his voice. I stop and turn my head back. He's in the same position.

  It seems to me that he was looking after me. I walk more slowly now. What do I care about what he thinks him and those like him? Too much time has elapsed since I don't care anymore.

  The rain started. Droplets are large, cold and especially wet. The wind began to vibrate. I get a shudder. I am not yet so cold. But rather I feel so very alone!

  Chapter Three

  The last few days were sunny. I'm glad of it, because I don't know that it isn't long and I will not bear the cold again. I went back to the routine. At school, it's all the same. I haven’t even seen that so insufferable man, with his scissorbill aura.

  “He is definitely deadly gorgeous!”

  “Tell me about it! I am dyeing after his freak eyes! And fir he is!”

  “Yeah, and especially how rich!”

  “Handsome, smart, and rich! The perfect man. What could you want more?”

  “Him!”

  “Do not even think about it! Dane Stoler is mine!”

  “Why do you think he so missed school? He and his brother?”

  “I do not know, but I already miss him. And I hope you put it in your head that, as I said, Dane is mine!”

  The voices of the most popular girls in school became suddenly hostile. It's normal for everyone to talk about those new students. For I have heard that he has a brother who learn as well in our school. I find it quite strange though, that with all those money which it is obvious they have, they prefer to study in a high school with no reputation, in a little time forgot town. I'm not too interested in this aspect, however. Rich people have their peculiarities also. I hear again, unintentionally, the conversation of the two girls.

  “Then... if... you take Dane, will you leave with me his brother, Sky?”

  I swell laughter. You think they were talking about being at a cattle market wining over the fattest and the most beautiful calf.

  “What are you laughing at, misery?”

  On hearing this word, all my easily amused status disappears instantly. I lift my head and look at the blond haired through the curtain of my hair.

  “Yes, yes, I'm talking, to you, misery!”

  Everyone looked at me. Most laugh. I take a fever and my throat is clogged eardrums.

  “Are you talking
to me?”

  I almost no longer have a voice because of the wrath.

  “Do you know any other greasy, filthy leprosy and mangy, like you around?”

  My judgement was clouded. I see red sight. I go slowly up to her, however, to everyone's surprise, including mine. Without any warning, I crack with my backhand her nose. You could hear a sound like a broken bone and a shout. Blood flows in abundance from her nose.

  "Dear God, she broke her nose!”

  I hear a flurry around me.

  “You broke my nose! You broke my nose!”

  Vera, that's her name, by the way, cries and screams. From what I know, she might hurt very badly. But it's certain that she will remain with her nose flattened for the rest of her life.

  “Someone comes!”

  Vera is just getting increasingly hysterical.

  “What's going on here? Vera, what's the matter with you?”

  Yap, Mrs. Sheldon, the English teacher, is very intrigued by what happened; especially as such incidents do not happen.

  “That… that… poverty... Broke my nose! Call an ambulance or something! And the police! Call the police!”

  I stick back at her and she stunts in fear, her hands on her nose, with blood streaming down her blouse.

  “You want some more?” I ask her, still angry.

  I feel that my entire body is shaking with the need to hit something or someone. I don't know, however, that it would be a better thing to do. I have to control my anger, because I am convinced that I would get worse, as if I would do a foolish crisis in which there I no longer take account of anything.

  “Geoffe!” Mrs. Sheldon admonishes me. “Stop right now! Tune immediately in the director's office! Now”!

  I pass with indifference among the rest of the class. They look at me with a certain fear now. Their eyes are still disapproving, but they are no longer scornful. It's as if they were afraid of me. I perk myself up like a turkey, full of myself. It may seem strange, but I'm rather proud that I have, for the first time, taken attitude. I did not expect quite break her nose though. I cannot believe I have so much power. Maybe it was from all those stones and boulders carried to the river, or from the climbing in the trees, or from cutting wood in the forest with rudimentary tools. I do not know why, but I am definitely stronger than I suspect.

  “Reformatory calls for you!”

  I figure out a little later than that the director Watson yells at me as if I was a slave, his face red, and the vein in his neck thudded steadily and angry.

  “Well, it's useless to call your parents at school, I know that! You're all a bunch of losers!”

  My heart rate starts to stir angrily, again. Trying not to notice what he says, I look out of the window. I see a tree, with its branches’ near the window. It has enough leaves, so I'm trying to count them.

  “Geoffe! Did you hear what I have told you?”

  I look up to Mr. Watson, who is about to make an attack of nerves. I don't know why, but the image of him amuses me.

  “Yes, sir, “I approve, not really knowing what.

  “Headmaster Watson!” he corrected me, showing off.

  /”Yeah, yeah, whatever…”/' I say to myself, looking straight into his eyes.

  He stands my gaze for a second, then his eyes slid somewhere to my right. Weak character, I infer. Overall, I developed a so to speak ability to read humans’ characters.

  “As for this one, you will be punished by doing the cleaning in the school yard for two months!”

  I stifle a yawn. Mr. Watson seems to notice and his face turns red again.

  “You can go, Geoffe!”

  I can feel him looking at my back, while I turn to go out the door. I know what he sees. Too short jeans, too loosely and too tight, since they are probably two measures smaller and a short shirt with sleeves rolled up. My bare feet I are slipshod in some rubber slippers. However, his look is more insistent than usual and it makes me feel uncomfortable, differently than before. It has something in it that makes me feel some kind of nausea.

  When I came out of his office, I can see through the window the ambulance. I smile. A whole fuss for a miserably nose. I would at any time have I broken nose for some nice clothes and a pair of sneakers.

  Chapter Four

  No rain, but it's quite cloudy and the wind is strong. I can’t be happier because, on this kind of weather, nobody comes out in the yard to watch me collecting the trash. It may seem to me, but since I was punished by the “headmaster” to clean the school yard, this is dirtier than usual. Soda cans, packaging of all kinds, cigarette butts, papers, gum stuck on the fence and even snivel. At least this is what to be this sticky and greenish stuff Next to a tree is something thrown on the ground. I pick it up just to find that it is thin and oval, flask. At one edge, it ends in a form of a titty I've never seen anything like it before. I thought teens wouldn’t play with balloons at their age. I put it in the trash bag. It is slightly sticky and it smells rather ugly and pungent.

  Suddenly, I hear a peal of laughter. From all around. From the windows, all high school students concern me with laughter and ridicule. I see Vera with her nose caught in splints watching me with satisfaction.

  “I always pay my debts.” She says to me.

  I do not know what the reason for laughing so hard at me is. However, even if I don't know the reason is, the moment fills me with nerves. I gnash my teeth, trying to control myself. I don't want to be the one who resigns.

  The laughter suddenly stops, as in command. I look around to see what the reason for the miracle is and I see the dude gathering the trash with me. It seems that he either does not feel disturbed by the quite low temperature. I look at his fine shoes as they fill with dust.

  “What are you doing?” I asked as a fool, for it is obvious what he does.

  “Isn’t that obvious?” he asks me in a calm tone.

  Instead, however, his tone calming me down, I get angrier.

  “You know what? Why don’t you let me do my job, and you go among those like you and do what you know better? And that is laughing at those like me? Come on, go!”

  He glanced his strange yellow eyes at me. Instead of walking, he keeps picking the trash with the same quiet.

  “Do you need some help?”

  I suddenly turned toward the unfamiliar voice I hear.

  About my stature, with a dash of quite slender, but not overly thin, there is another guy, with brown hair combed after the latest fashion. He wears brand sneakers, and brand dressed. I don't know what brand his jeans are, but his shirt has the unmistakable Nike logo. If they hadn't had the same strange colored eyes, I would never guess that he was Dane’s brother, Sky.

  “It never hurts an extra helping hand.” says Dane.

  I feel humiliated by their attitude. I know I should be grateful, but I cannot afford this luxury. I can, instead, to apologize.

  “Listen,” I say to Dane, “I'm sorry I snapped you.”

  He gave me one of his strange looks. I can see he is amused now. But I can see that he’s not laughing at me.

  “Hello! I am Sky! And you Patricia, have I got it right?”

  He, as well as his brother, does not stretch out his hand.

  “Hello.” Came my answer to him. As a matter of fact I'd rather be called Pat”

  “But Pat's a name for a boy!” Sky protests.

  He has a spark in his eyes. He’s not distant. And he's not condescending to me. I like him, although I didn’t intend to. I shrug.

  “It suits me. I do not differ greatly from one of them.”

  “Are you serious? I've heard something else.”

  And his eyes slid languidly toward his brother. I seem to hear a snarl. It sounds like an animal growl. I look at him, a little surprised. But he only concerns his brother odd, as they communicated only by looks. I look at Sky. He shrugs and smiles. I am not interested in their silent conversations.

  “Anyway,” Sky speaks again. “I'm glad to meet you. I've heard enough ab
out you.”

  I looked at him again, harder. I could pretty imagine what he would be able to hear. The words that I've heard since I was a kid: "Scumbag", "Poverty", "Misery", "Beggar", "Hunger-glance" and so many others that I don't even remember them all.

  “Yeah, I'm sure.”

  My tone is pretty harsh and challenging. It seems that he notices it, and he quickly adds:

  “Only the good stuff, I assure you.”

  The idea itself seems so hilarious that I burst out laughing.

  “Yes, I can imagine that.”

  The brothers seem a little uncomfortable

  “You know, I heard a lot about you too”. I said.

  At once, their relaxed attitude changes to a tense one. Their eyes seem like being warned. They looked at each other again, cautiously. I told you that I understand and I interpret the eyes of those around me.

  “Seriously? And what that might be?”

  “Well, the entire high school talks only about the two of you.”

  The atmosphere expands suddenly, even though I do not know what the reason for which they were both tense was. Sky laughs. His brother doesn't seem amused, however. Even though, it seems to me that he is a little bothered that I speak so much with his brother.

  “Including you?” Sky asks me oblivion.

  I no longer want to joke. My smile suddenly fades.

  “It might seem funny to you that all these geese around here to crouch in front of the two of you, but please, believe me, that I am not part of them. And now I ask you to excuse me, I have work to do.”

  I suddenly take the garbage bag in my hand to get out of them.

  “Hey!”

  “Sky, don’t!”

  Sky puts his hand on my shoulder to stop me. And he withdraws it as suddenly as he put it. Dane's voice overlaps to his brother, warning. I find it normal for them to feel disgusted by my appearance that denotes so much poverty and misery. I looked at him, angry.

  “What?” I snarled at Sky.