AN: basically I don't know if i will ever continue this, but enjoy the first chapter anyways
"There once was a boy in class,
He had a lot of sass,
With bright blonde hair
And a dramatic flair,
He also had a really nice ass-"
"Will Solace!" The class burst into giggles as Will's teacher stood up abruptly, glaring at Will from where he leaned casually against the whiteboard at the front of the room. He grinned cheekily at her.
"Yes, Miss Fisher? Is there a problem?" he asked sarcastically, relishing in the rise in laughter from his classmates.
Miss Fisher's nostrils flared as she breathed out angrily. "I will not tolerate that kind of language in my classroom. When I asked you to recite your poem, I was not expecting… that."
"Personally, I quite liked my poem. And I worked really hard on it. Staying up till past midnight, y'know?" Will said, still smiling sweetly as the giggles died down, the class quieting to watch the scene in front of them.
"Well, personally, I do not appreciate you using this assignment as an excuse to spread vulgar language. You must report back to this classroom after school and your punishment will be decided then." The class oohed at the teacher's curt response, and Will shrugged a little before sauntering back to his desk, unfazed.
It wasn't uncommon for him to get in trouble here in there, he was just trying to spice things up considering how damn boring high school was. Especially english. This year, english was Will's least favourite subject, which was ironic considering it used to be the one he most looked forward to. When he was younger, he would always look forward to reading books and writing poetry and learning new words and everything that came along with the beautiful specimen that was the english language. But, this year, with his new stepdad confiscating his books and Andy Simmons bullying him more than usual and Miss Fisher being a stuck-up prude, english class was equivalent to hell.
Speak of the devil, Will felt something hit the back of his head, and when he turned he saw a crumpled up piece of paper behind him. Sighing and, even though he knew better, he picked it up and unfolded it, reading the messy handwritten message:
"Nice poem, faggot. Prepare to get your 'nice ass' kicked after school."
Ah, the F word, one that Will was faced with every day. No, not fuck. Faggot. It was a shame, really, that such a word would be used as an insult so often, considering that the Oxford Dictionary defined 'faggot' as 'a ball or roll of seasoned chopped liver, baked or fried.' That sounded quite delicious, actually, but hell would freeze over before the word and the meaning were ever associated with each other again.
And, if we're being completely honest, and if faggot was defined by Andy, then technically Will was one. He was gay, and it was hard to not be ashamed. It was hard to embrace who he was when it was so looked down on and he was so ridiculed for it.
And it wasn't just Andy Simmons and his posse of assholes. It was Will's step-dad, too. His name was James and his douchebaggery put Andy's to shame. He was a jerk when he married Will's mum, but he was a jerk with money. And, despite what they say, money goes a long way. Will and his mother had been struggling, so when James came along flashing his hundred dollar bills, they had jumped at the chance. Well, his mother had been enthusiastic, Will was still sceptical considering his last step-dad but he was smart enough to realise that they needed the money to survive.
So he toughened up and dealt with James' colourful character, he put up with everything from his requests for more beer to his meaningless yet hurtful beatings. Will went through it all while his mother stood back and collected the money she wanted, needed, and barely shared with him. He could have told someone, he could have let the bruises speak for themselves, but he didn't, because his mother loved him, surely, she had a plan and one day they would move far away from James.
Well, fantasy is cool and all but the reality is that she left. By herself. One day, it was a Thursday, the second Thursday of April, Will woke up and his mother was gone. Just, gone. She packed her bags and left in the middle of the night with most of the money and without a goodbye. No explanation, no 'I'm sorry', nothing.
James had been furious, of course, because "That bitch stole all my money!" Will could hardly feel or even care about the new bruises and angry scars on his body when he was wallowing in sadness. His mother, the only family he ever had, had abandoned him. She had left him alone with James, who she knew was abusive and manipulative and controlling and every goddamn negative adjective under the fucking sun. She didn't care, apparently, and now Will was alone.
Not completely alone, though. There was still Sam, the closest thing Will had for a best friend since, well, since his own mother, and you can see how well that went. Will wasn't exactly unpopular, but people tended to avoid him because of multiple reasons, the most prominent probably being the target on his back placed by Andy and his crew, another being his dyslexia. It was stupid; the main reasons he didn't have friends were due to some asshole with anger issues and some quality he couldn't control.
But, back to Sam. Sam Free was a quirky guy with brown hair, glasses and bright green eyes. He was enthusiastic and kind, and seemed very determined to be Will's friend, which was strange and led to Will half-heartedly avoiding him, conscious of a possible ulterior motive. It wasn't that he didn't like Sam, Will just thought it was odd how his goal appeared to be to befriend Will, despite the fact that no one else in the school would give him any reason to.
Will didn't really give him a reason either. He usually kept to himself, hanging out alone at lunch, sometimes going to the music room to mess around on guitar. He didn't really talk to people much, but he was still somewhat confident; like today, for example, joking in front of the class and getting them to laugh. He wasn't afraid of being friendly from afar, but he didn't talk to people up close. Not because he didn't want to, but it seemed that people didn't want to talk to him. And he was fine with that.
But Sam was persistent. Will can remember how Sam randomly approached him one day, attempting to start a conversation about the My Chemical Romance tee Will was wearing. He had made it a mission to find common interests between them while Will had stood there slightly confused and barely keeping up with the conversation. He had tried to be friendly back, but he didn't put too much effort into it. He didn't put much effort into anything these days.
Sam kept coming back, bringing new conversation topics with him, and Will slowly got used to it, and now he expected it every day; Sam meeting him at his locker and talking with him until the bell went and they had to go their separate ways. They didn't have any classes together, which was kind of a shame; Will wouldn't mind some company to prevent him from being bored out of his mind.
Which he was right now, sitting back at his desk with Andy's note crumpled in his fist. The clock was slowly ticking and class was almost over, and as soon as it was, Will would rush to his locker, momentarily running away from his threat. He knew he couldn't avoid Andy forever, the beating would come eventually, as promised, but maybe he could get Sam to distract him for a while until school was over and he had to be back to see Miss Fisher. That sounded like a good plan, and as the bell went, he set it into motion.
Will grabbed his things and headed for the door, not even bothering to listen to Miss Fisher's shriek about homework before he was gone, walking briskly down the hallway, happy to be out before the crowds came. Students trickled out of doorways and soon Will was boxed in from all ends, pushing his way through and trying to find the current going in his direction. It was a skill, really, traversing through suffocating school hallways, and soon enough Will was at his locker.
No surprises, Sam was already there, his backpack slung over his shoulders while he bounced on the balls of his feet. This was typical behaviour, and usually Will attributed it to excitement, but today it was different. Sam looked nervous, scared. He didn't have time to ponder it however, as suddenly someone shoved him and smashed his face into the wall of lockers in front of him.
"Hey there, fag," a taunting voice came from behind him, and Will recognised it immediately. He sighed dejectedly as a hand held the back of his neck, pressing his face into the cool metal.
"Since you got punishment after school, your beating's gonna have to wait until tomorrow. Lucky you," Andy said, and Will could hear the sneer in his voice. He didn't grace his captor with a reply, staying silent even when he could hear the laughs of the posse at his back. Andy, realising he wasn't going to get a response, gave up and stepped back, spitting one last insult his way before walking away, his friends in tow.
Will brought a hand to his face and rubbed his skin, and yeah, he was going to have a bruise. Great. It's not like he didn't have enough already. Sighing, he turned to his locker and started working on the lock, not paying any mind when he felt Sam giving him a sad look.
"You good?" Sam asked, and Will didn't even consider answering honestly for a second.
"I'm fine." His voice was slightly hoarse and he cleared his throat, shoving around the mess in his locker until he found the books he needed, chucking in the ones he didn't. Sam didn't say anything else until his locker was closed.
"So, um, do you wanna come to my house after school?"
Okay, where the fuck did that come from? Did Will want to go to Sam's house? Will frowned, confused. Just because he was Will's closest friend, it didn't mean him and Sam were close by any means. They just talked at school, never outside of it. Hell, Will didn't even know Sam's number, much less where he lived. They had never discussed anything of the sort before, seeming to have come to a mutual agreement to keep things strictly on school grounds. Which was fine with Will, he wouldn't want Sam to see his shitty house anyway, but this request was just plain odd.
"Um, what?" was Will's eloquent reply, and he just stood there staring as Sam's cheeks reddened in embarrassment.
"Uh, I mean. Like. Do you, uh, would you maybe want to, like, um. I just thought. I'm sorry, but, I just-" Sam was stuttering, floundering for words and some kind of explanation, and Will cut him off.
"Sam. Stop. Look, I'm not sure where that came from, but I can't go to your house anyway. I have to go see Fisher after school. Sorry," he said, and he was ready to offer a wave and turn away, but Sam's widening eyes stopped him.
"Wait, no, you can't! You absolutely cannot go and see Miss Fisher!" Sam's voice was frantic and panicked, enough for Will to physically take a step back.
"What do you mean, I can't? I've been in trouble plenty of times before, it's nothing new. And it's not really your business, anyway." Will didn't know why he was being so rude, basically telling Sam to fuck off, but he was in a slightly bad mood. Like he said, trouble was nothing new, and Andy tormenting him was an everyday occurrence, but he had been having a weird feeling all day. He just had a strange sense of foreboding, like something bad was going to happen, and it had made him upset since it prevented him from focusing on the only things that made him happy. Still, it wasn't an excuse for snapping at Sam, even though he was acting strange, and Will took a deep breath before speaking again.
"Look, Sam, I'm sorry. I don't know why you don't want me to go and see Fisher, but I don't really have a choice. Maybe I can go to your house tomorrow, or something," he said, offering what he hoped was a friendly smile at the end.
Sam looked conflicted, like he wanted to argue but, at the same time, he didn't want to appear controlling. "Can't you just ditch?" he asked.
Will shook his head. "Last time I did that, I got two afternoon detentions. So nope, I gotta go. Again, sorry."
"It's okay, stop apologising. Just, um. Here." Sam reached into his back pocket and pulled out a necklace, handing it to Will. It was a gold chain, sparkling in the sun, with the charm of a bow on the end. Will was confused, to say the least.
"Uh, what's this for?" he asked, reaching out to take the necklace from his friend.
Sam gulped. "Oh, it's um. It's for, like, I don't know. Holy Hera I have no idea what I'm doing." He mumbled the last part, but Will still heard him. By that time the sea of students had thinned out and there were only a few left here and there, but even they were getting ready to leave. Will knew he had to go soon, but Sam spoke again before he could make his exit.
"Listen, Will, I don't have time to explain, and I'm sorry. But, basically, if anything bad happens, just pull on the bow on the end of the necklace and, and… just do it, okay? Trust me." Sam's eyes were pleading and Will was conflicted. Trust Sam? He had no reason not to, but did he have a reason to actively place his trust in Sam's words? Considering he was the only person who didn't straight up and openly hate Will, maybe.
"Okay," he replied, and Sam didn't look convinced but Will didn't have time to worry about that. He slipped the necklace into his pocket, lifted his hand in a wave, and turned on his heel to walk away.
The walk back to Miss Fisher's classroom was uneventful right up until the point where Will approached the closed door. That foreboding feeling from before was back, and it was more intense than ever. Will's mouth was dry, his hands were sweating and a dull throbbing had started in his head, a constant pang at regular intervals. The hallway was deserted, deathly quiet. Something was wrong.
Will knew, he knew, that he shouldn't open the door, he should instead just turn around and walk back the way he came, back to Sam. But, almost as if he couldn't control his body, he reached out a shaky hand and touched the cool door knob, beginning to twist it. The door opened without a sound, and, as Will stepped inside, he saw that the classroom was empty. Miss Fisher was nowhere in sight.
After a few seconds of breathing in the cool air and trying to ignore the pounding in his head, Will wiped his palms on his jeans and spoke. "Miss Fisher? Are you here?" he called out. His voice was slightly shaky, his nerves showing. There was no response.
The silence was deafening, and yeah, something was definitely wrong. Will tried to convince himself otherwise. Don't be an idiot, he thought. Everything's fine. Miss Fisher probably went to go get some papers or something and she's gonna walk in any second now.
The reassurance fell flat, however, when the door behind Will suddenly slammed shut. He whipped around, staring with wide eyes at the door that had once been wide open. His heart rate increased, a rapid beating in his chest, and he almost had a goddamn heart attack when a voice came from behind him.
"Will Solace." The sound was smooth like honey, yet there was something ominous about it. Something… evil. Will turned to see Miss Fisher leaning casually against her desk, and the gears worked frantically in his mind. How did she get there? She wasn't in the room before. How did the door close? All of these questions went unanswered as his teacher spoke again.
"It's nice of you to join me. Please, take a seat." She gestured to the desks at her side, and her offer was clear, but Will was frozen to the spot. There was so much going on inside his mind right now; reassurances like it was the wind, you just didn't see her, conspiracies like was it a ghost? is she a ghost? so many inaccuracies that his head hurt even more. He still couldn't move, couldn't speak, and Miss Fisher seemed to be getting frustrated.
She rolled her eyes and sighed, like she was annoyed with him for being shocked. "Fine then, don't sit. Don't talk either, leave that up to me, sweetie." And okay, that was weird, she called him sweetie. She'd never done that before, not to him or anyone else, or at least not that he had observed, and now that Will was paying attention, he could see just how out of character Miss Fisher was acting. Either she was fake now, or she had been fake all along. His voice still failed him.
"Listen, Will, I'm just gonna get straight to it. You are a demigod, and you need to die. Simple as that, right?" her voice was eerily perky, a sweet smile on her lips as she stared him down. Her eyes were cold, however, dark like coal.
Will's mind was whirring. A demigod? What in the world was that? And what did she mean, he needed to die? What the fuck? He didn't have time to contemplate anything, however, as Miss Fisher was all of a sudden lunging towards him, a mighty roar escaping her mouth.
Suddenly, Will wasn't frozen anymore, and he barely had time to stumble out of the way before Miss Fisher clawed at the spot where he had just been standing. With wide eyes and fast breathing, Will looked back to see that Miss Fisher was… changing. Her skin was fading into a sickly green colour, and, as Will looked closer, he saw that she was growing scales.
He had barely two seconds to register his shock before his former teacher was turning to face him, obviously displeased with him having gotten away. She let out what sounded suspiciously like a hiss, and stood up tall, balancing on thick slimy legs, staring him down.
"You will die." Her voice was different now, almost like it was multiple voices layered on top of one another, and before he could stop himself, Will let out the words bubbling in his throat.
"What the fuck are you?" he exclaimed, and the creature in front of him let out a sound that was like steam hissing out of a boiler. With a shock, Will realised it was a laugh.
"Oh, sweet demigod, that does not matter to you. All that matters is that you are already dead." Before Will could say anything else, she was already lunging forward again, and Will moved quickly, ducking under a desk and trying to calm his racing heartbeat. He could hear chairs being knocked over as the monster, since there was no way she was Miss Fisher anymore, crashed into them with her momentum.
Taking the few precious seconds that he had, Will tried to think of a plan, and later he would marvel at how this all came to naturally to him, but at the moment it was all instinct and he just went with it. I need to get away, was his first thought, and immediately after that, I need to fight her to do that. I need to kill her.
A weapon. He needed a weapon, and he needed one fast. He could hear clattering as the snake-like creature started to get up and recover, her frustrated hissing almost silent compared to Will's own erratic pants and quickening heart. His lungs felt like they were burning, but he needed to focus.
Back to the weapon dilemma, Will searched his mind frantically. What could he use to fight her? And, like a ton of bricks dropping from the sky, it hit him. The necklace. The one that Sam gave him. For the most part, Will was knew that there was a chance that it was simply a useless necklace, just a strange gift from a stranger friend. But somewhere at the back of his mind was a feeling that he was right, that the necklace would help. And Sam did say to pull on the bow on the end of the chain if anything bad happens, and this situation definitely classified as bad, so Will did just that.
He pulled the necklace out of his pocket, trying to ignore the sounds of the monster wading through knocked over chairs, getting closer and closer to where he was crouched. He held the cool golden chain between his fingers, and with the other hand he grabbed the bow on the end, and he pulled.
There was a bright flash of light, brighter than the sun, and suddenly the necklace was gone and a bow was in its place. It too was gold, gleaming, shining, and Will was momentarily entranced by its beauty. That couldn't last, though, as soon the reality of chairs scraping was brought to the forefront of his mind when the creature reached him.
She grabbed the desk he was under, lifting it with ease and tossing it across the room, and Will flinched as it crashed into the wall. He quickly scrambled away, his back hitting the wall, bow clutched tightly in his fist, and as the monster loomed over him, snarling cruelly, he realised two very unfortunate things. He had never shot a bow before. And there were no arrows.
"Time to die, demigod," the monster spat once more, and Will barely had time to think oh shit as she launched herself at him. Without thinking, Will lifted the bow up, pointed it at her, and pulled back the string. There was momentary wonder as a bronze arrow appeared out of thin air, already nocked and in place, before Will let go of the bowstring.
Time seemed to slow down as Will watched the shining bronze arrow sail through the air, the bowstring snapping back into his forearm, the stinging pain going unregistered. It wasn't a perfect shot, but the arrow hit its target, and Will let out a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding when it pierced the monster in the side. She let out a painful shriek before she… exploded, was the best way to describe it. She just burst into gold dust, and it might have been a cool sight if Will's heart wasn't about to beat hard enough to crack his rib cage.
He took deep breaths, trying to steady the ache in his lungs as he kept staring at the gold particles fluttering in the air in front of him, slowly falling to the ground. The throbbing in his head was gone, and so was the ominous feeling. It seemed that whatever bad thing that was supposed to happen was over. Or at least, Will thought that until the door burst open.
He brought the bow up, uncharacteristically ready to nock an arrow and fire at whoever it was, but he stopped himself when he saw who it was.
"Woah, dude, calm down! I'm not a monster, I promise!" It was Sam, and he looked around the room with wide eyes as he took in the gold dust on the floor, the knocked over furniture, Will's disheveled appearance. It was obvious what had happened.
"I think I killed the teacher." Will's voice was flat, yet still confused. He was in shock, he had no idea what just happened, he didn't know anything.
Sam let out a breathy laugh. "Will, no, it's okay. You didn't. Well, you kinda did, but it's cool, cuz she was a monster anyway, and I'm just confusing you more aren't I?" He observed Will's frown, giving him a quick "sorry."
Suddenly Sam became serious, his posture straightening and his eyes hardening. "Listen, Will, I can explain, and I'm going to, but first we have to go. So get up, come on, we're leaving."
Will didn't even have the energy to ask where they were going, why they were leaving, what they were doing. He just let himself be dragged to his unsteady feet, let Sam pull him out the door, away from the pile of shimmering dust.