Judge by the Cover: High School, Drama & Deadly Vices (Hafu Sans Halo Book 1)

by Melissa Abigail

  Alexis greeted her with a sing-song voice. Haruna chimed back. These girls were in her second period class.

  “How do you think you did on the test? It was brutal, eh?” Samantha asked with raised brows.

  Haruna giggled, twirling to face them, “Oh, well I finished early.”

  Alexis and Samantha gave each other impressed looks and laughed. Alexis’ grin revealed her glittering braces.

  Ugh. Haruna did not miss wearing those.

  “I forgot I was talking to you, Haruna. Of course, you totally aced it, as usual,” Alexis teased.

  “Bell’s going to ring soon! See you later, girl,” said Samantha with a polite wave.

  Haruna tittered a goodbye in return, and they resumed the trek to class. The social ritual ended.

  But something strange happened.

  Haruna had moved off quickly. Too quickly. For some strange reason, the floor was slick. Haruna felt her shoes slide. She shrieked, swaying in a strange, meandering dance, fighting to keep her balance. Before she knew it, like a rug had been pulled beneath her, she was on the hard, cold floor, pain shooting up her spine as she glided forwards like a puck on ice.

  Her books and notes were everywhere.

  Grumbling under her breath and praying no one saw, Haruna scrambled on all fours to retrieve her books. She had all but her pencil case. Then she heard the laughter.

  “That look like it hurt,” someone said, their voice rough.

  “So pink is her colour, eh?” said another. “I admit the lace is a nice touch.”

  Haruna felt her insides squirm. Her skirt must have flared when she’d fallen. How embarrassing, but worse, how disgusting for them to comment on it! That’s when she realised to whom those voices belonged and the nausea struck.

  “What a mess,” remarked a third boy.

  Haruna lifted her head, feeling her heart and body tremble. It was exactly who she suspected—the usual gang of slackers and stoners, all standing in a tiny mob in front of an adjacent row of lockers. How? How had she managed to run into them again like this, in such a short span of time? Three short days. Now it was happening again. Towering over her was the dusty-haired blond with wide-set eyes; that one Chinese kid with pin-straight, longish black hair, side-swept; the other, a kind of beefy Asian guy with too-thick eyebrows, acne scars and the air of a bully; some other guy with dyed hair and a tan; and, of course, the one to shame all others, the messy-haired, ever-silent, Ryu Debiru.

  Seth wasn’t among them, perhaps still in the process of being "seduced" by Gabrielle.

  Haruna hadn’t a chance to focus on any of that.

  She now knew where her pencil case had gone: right at their feet. To make matters worse, it hadn’t been fully closed.

  Everything was everywhere, scattered.

  Haruna swallowed hard. She didn’t anticipate the humiliating task she knew would follow—having to recover all of her things, on her hands and knees, while they stood like spectators.

  “Yo, aren’t you going to pick up your stuff?” the blond asked, a stupid grin plastered on his face.

  “Hey, Tim, you should help her. You’re the one who spilled your drink over there,” said the Chinese one, prodding the blond with his elbow. Tim looked as though he was considering it, but Haruna didn’t want to entertain their antics for a second more. She was pretty sure he was the same pervert who had been brazen enough to comment on her underwear.

  “Get a life.” Haruna lifted herself and marched over. She stooped for her pencil case, then her pens and eraser. It was just her luck that the first bell would ring at that moment.

  Classroom doors flung open and those inside spilled out while those who were on lunch flooded the hallways.

  Haruna stiffened, feeling a bout of hives erupt along her back. The wandering eyes and speculative whispers of passing students were on her as she continued the mortifying act of what looked like crawling, grovelling at their feet. Haruna’s right eye twitched. Was that a flash? Had one of these jerks actually taken a picture?

  “The optics of this is pure gold,” murmured the one with the dyed-hair who was in the process of returning a cell phone to his pocket. “Well, I'm out. Later, Head Girl.”

  The boys came to a unanimous agreement with grunts and guffaws like a troop of chimps, and Haruna felt a flood of relief as she watched their feet pivot and shadows fade away. She exhaled. At last, she had everything, books in her left arm and case in right. But when she stood, she flinched, nearly dropping her things all over again as she felt her heart catapult through her ribcage. She was face-to-face with Ryu. He stood like a phantom before her, his back pressed casually against a wall. Her mouth fell as his eyes bore back into hers.

  The others had left. Why hadn’t he?

  “W-What are you doing,” Haruna managed, assembling a mask of annoyance to hide the fright he’d actually given her.

  “You missed something,” Ryu answered.

  He lifted an arm. A small, pink, L-shaped pouch swung between his fingers.

  It had fallen out of her pencil case! She almost forgot—but no, he couldn't see it!

  Blinded by a rush of embarrassment she couldn’t comprehend, Haruna hurtled towards him. He pushed away from the wall, easily dodging her.

  “Don’t touch my stuff!” Haruna’s voice came out like a desperate, angry cry. She flung everything in one arm and thrust out the other. Just short of grasping it, he drew his arm back. He spread his fingers, letting it fall, and Haruna's eyes followed the pouch as it clattered to the floor.

  He didn’t…

  He couldn’t have just…

  She jerked her head upwards, catching a hint of a smirk as he strutted by her and pocketed his hands.

  “What is wrong with you!” Haruna shrieked. This time she didn’t care who noticed or overheard them.

  Ryu stopped dead in his tracks.

  Still faced away, his voice emanated with a tone as cool and clear as a dark, night sky, “Don’t understand, huh? It’s what I hate the most about people like you.” The Asian dragon motif gleamed in snaking coils of electric green from the back of the black hooded sweatshirt, the one he often wore over his uniform. He turned a little, his profile menacing as he finished, “You said not to touch, right? So I thought it would be better if you pick it up yourself."

  At that moment, the second bell sounded. Haruna was sure to be late for class, and yet, her thoughts were muddled, her ears suddenly deaf and body numb to its chime. She stared after Ryu as he swaggered off.

  Things like this didn’t happen to her.

  She was nice to everyone. She was respected and loved. She was an honour student. She was Head Girl! Forcing herself to withhold the tears that were sure to come, Haruna squatted and retrieved the pouch with stiff limbs, glowering as his form disappeared around a corner.

  She hated him.

  She hated him when he was quiet, when he watched her with that mean, analysing, demonic gaze. Hated that he was so passive most times, but when he acted, he acted so callously, like it came naturally. After all of this he had only reaffirmed what she knew she hated about him most of all.

  His words.

  CHAPTER three

  much ado about everything

  "You're a few hundred dollars short."

  The Devil Half looked up from a stack of bills laid out on the counter, eyes resting on a man who could only gawk back in crippling terror. His round, fat face was dewy with sweat and his eyes popped. His mouth gaped open like a goldfish. This was the manager?

  What a joke.

  "It's… it's all I have… " the man stammered.

  Dev nodded towards the register.

  "You mean to tell me that that's empty too?"

  The man gulped. In a fluster he sank to his knees, arms raised as though in prayer, the onset of tears forming in his eyes. It was the last ditch effort of a man unprepared to lose his entire life savings. A man so used to his prestige, he couldn't hand
le the thought of facing the other side. The side less green.

  "Please… three more days. That's all I ask."

  Sad. He hadn't a shred of dignity.

  Dev faced away with a sigh.

  "Better pay up the next time I drop by. The older guys aren't as forgiving as I am, and I'm guessing you value your life." Dev half-turned, bidding farewell with a glance, bone-chilling. "Three days. That's it."

  Dev didn't wait to see the man get back onto his feet. Dev pocketed the cash, concealed in a brown paper bag, and charged out the door. The entire thing hadn’t been a complete waste of time, but these folks sure knew how to test him. Scowling to himself, he strolled along the West Campbelton sidewalk, hands in his pockets.

  Filthy.

  Everything about this city was, even after street sweepers brushed it clean. Main Street was the East Side's dirty little secret, and its worst kept. But the West Side was even dirtier, inside and out, and not because of the way it looked. It was dirty because of its people. People like the grovelling manager.

  Dev stole a glance at his watch. He pulled on his hood and ran, hoping to make it back in time. Fifteen minutes until the bell, the end of his fourth period spare and the start of his fifth period class. Fifteen minutes, then he'd go from the Devil Half, back to Ryu Debiru.

  Fourth period passed by, a haze of lectures and scribbles on a blackboard. Next thing Haruna knew she was swaying into her final class of the day, sitting in on more lectures. It was quarter-past one in the afternoon. Students took turns reading aloud paragraphs from within their copies of Demystifying the Tales of Shakespeare as Mr. Lee, their teacher, sat on his desk, leg over knee. He nodded, brows knit with strained focus as another student, Arlen Caige, slowly read to the end of page fifty-two. Haruna stared at the page without registering meaning to the words, her chin in her hand as she tried her best not to fall asleep out of boredom. She didn’t enjoy listening to other people read, especially when they weren’t very good and tripped hopelessly over their words the way Arlen did.

  Haruna crooked her head away from the textbook and cringed. Without meaning to, she'd caught sight of Ryu from the corner of her eyes. She sat in the middle and he was at the far end, in the back. He wasn’t looking into the book and following along like most others; he was gaping into space. Typical. Haruna shuddered and refocused her attention elsewhere.

  Fifth period English was the only class Haruna shared with Ryu, one of the rare times she had had the “honour” of sharing any classes with him since grade seven. The incident from hours prior, where he and his crew had attempted to humiliate her, was still raw in her mind like an open sore. Fortunately, he hadn’t paid mind to her since. It was almost like nothing had happened. But Haruna hadn’t forgotten, especially not the way he had feigned helpfulness by “picking up” her pouch before practically pitching it—like the soulless hell-spawn he was—to the floor.

  Haruna was thankful that at least Angelique and Gabrielle were in this class as well. Haruna exchanged a warm smile with Gabrielle, who seemed to be in a much bubblier mood than she'd been at lunch. Angelique was smiling too. They hadn’t time to discuss it, nevertheless Haruna presumed the whole “Seth thing” went well. Although Haruna was half-curious as to what might’ve happened since she had left, the other half of her didn’t want to know. One of two things were sure to happen if her best friend and Seth started dating: they would be seeing less of her or more of Seth.

  Neither sounded like something to look forward to.

  “All right, excellent, now we can move on. You may put away your textbooks,” Mr. Lee announced, springing off his desk and picking up a stack of papers that he passed on to the class, row-by-row.

  Once the stack came her way, Haruna glimpsed the header that read “Mid-Term Assignment” before taking one and handing the rest to the person behind her. The first of November was just days away. It was that time of year: report card season. Haruna continued to read the assignment outline. Two words struck her, sending her mind whirling like a rollercoaster: Group Activity.

  “No…” she breathed.

  “So I thought I would do something a little interesting this year,” Lee said as he paced the room, displaying a grin. “We spent a lot of time reviewing Shakespeare, the man, the writer. Now, I would like for you to consider his works. What are the fundamental lessons? What can we take away? What did it mean for the time it was written and how can we apply them today? Within a group of three, you will be assigned one of Shakespeare’s greatest plays and create a presentation. The way you choose to present is up to you—you can do a slide show, a skit, a news report—be creative.”

  Without raising a hand, someone shouted, “So we’re allowed to pick our groups?”

  “No. This will be decided at random,” Lee said as he manoeuvred towards his desk, then lifted and waved a plastic cup for all to see.

  Haruna gaped at the paper, jaw-dropped. Be creative? Group assignments were the worst! She was always put into a group of unproductive nimrods that left her to do all the work, fighting against all odds to somehow pull off a passing grade. A "Pass" wasn’t anywhere near good enough, either. It didn’t help that they all went home with the same grade because of some crazy-talk about “group cohesion," no matter how much work she was forced to take on single-handed. How was she supposed to be valedictorian if she was going to be dragged down? And this time she wouldn’t even have the luxury of at least choosing with whom to share her suffering?

  “So this is replacing our mid-term exam?” asked Angelique.

  The teacher gave a short nod, arms folded across his narrow frame. Haruna skimmed frantically through the paper to see where it had mentioned this. Angelique was very observant. Haruna hadn’t even noticed it.

  Several students hooted; the excited exclamations of “yes!” and high-fives reverberated through the class.

  Why were they celebrating? No exam? Why not? Exams were her speciality!

  Haruna shot an arm into the air, flailing impatiently, not waiting for a bewildered Mr. Lee to call on her before shouting out, “Mr. Lee, can I write an exam instead?”

  Lee quirked an eyebrow. “Er, no. Like I said, this is replacing the usual exam. For everyone.”

  “Then can I opt out? Please? I ask that I may be allowed to opt out.”

  “There… is no opt-out option, Miss Mitsukai. Everyone, no exceptions."

  Haruna glanced at her friends, seeing the looks in their eyes. They seemed only mildly disappointed. Not Haruna, though. Haruna was anxious. She returned her attention to the front. If at the very least she could be grouped with her friends it wouldn’t be so bad, right? There was hope. Her eyes darted across the room as the cup passed among the others and they drew from it. There were at least four other students she had her heart set on aside from her friends. Top performers. Haruna tensed as they selected their plays, silently praying to be matched with one or two of them. Once the cup came to her, she drew a slip of paper. She unfolded it, revealing the words in navy-blue ink. She sighed internally. It wasn’t her favourite play, but it was one she knew well enough. After five or so minutes of students drawing from the cup, it returned to the teacher, emptied.

  “So raise your hand when I call your play,” Mr. Lee said, eyes gleaming. “Much Ado About Nothing? Okay, Josh, Alyssa and Sandeep. Good! Our first group.”

  Haruna felt her brow twitch. Alyssa was super smart. That was one gone. She swallowed hard. Okay. Five more viable options left.

  “Romeo and Juliet?”

  Haruna’s heart sank as she watched Gabrielle and Angelique raise their hands, along with another girl. They had been sorted into a group with each other? Where did that leave her? She bit her bottom lip as she listened to one more play get called, watching yet another genius raise their hand. She felt her insides writhe with dread.

  “Okay, now Merchant of Venice.”

  Shakily, Haruna lifted her arm. She scanned the room as the others looked ponderously
back at her. None of them raised their hands. Trevor O'Connell? Emma Abbot? The last two class geniuses still ungrouped? Why weren’t they raising their hands? Why? Haruna turned her head rigidly, feeling as though her bones had alchemized into lead, her still-raised arm growing weightier as she peeked owlishly over her shoulder. Nobody else had raised their hand, which could only mean that nobody else was assigned the play. Haruna felt her spirits lighten, relieved, but… confused. Had a miracle happened? Could it be that she was in a group all by herself?

  “Ahem, Merchant of Venice?” Mr. Lee repeated.

  “Oh, yeah. Sorry. Wasn’t paying attention.”

  Haruna’s blood ran cold. She whipped around. Ryu’s arm hovered upwards, bent slightly so it was only an inch above his head. He regarded the teacher lazily before his eyes shifted and lanced back at her.

  “Okay,” said Mr. Lee, marking the names on lined paper attached to his clipboard. “Ryu and Haruna will be working on The Merchant of Venice.”

  Haruna flew out of her seat, and her chair slammed onto the floor with a clang that caused several students to jump and stare.

  “Uh, a problem, Haruna?” Lee asked, adjusting thick-framed glasses that had slid down his nose bridge.

  “You said it was a group of three…” she noted, keeping her voice steady and soft. No, this argument wasn’t good enough. The gears in her mind spun into overdrive as she contemplated better excuses to talk her way out of this nightmare.

  Lee's eyes dropped to his clipboard, then came up again, passing from head to head as though carrying out a mental calculation. He smiled.

  “Ah, yes. Well it looks like there will be four groups of three and one group of two.”

  Haruna’s lower lip quivered. She had no excuses. She was in full panic mode now.

  “Mr. Lee! I can’t! I can’t be in a group with—with him! We don’t work well together!”

  Lee’s mouth became a thin line. His arms dropped to his sides. “I’m sorry. The groups will not be changed.”