Sorry about the long, long wait. I hope you like it. Next chapter will be out shortly.
you've been called out
you've got no pride
you've been called out
grow up and be a man
you've been called out
get out while you still can
-Called Out by 86 Mentality
Twelve years later:
My deep red hair flows down the side of my face and onto the test in front of me. I stare at the paper, attempting to fill in a problem. Any problem. It was no use. The words would slide off of the paper, doing 360s and somersaults around my head. I yawn, glancing up at the clock. Was that 9:45 or 9:54? I could have sworn only five minutes had gone by since the start of the test at 9:30. That was my ADHD acting up along with the dyslexia.
"You have five minutes left on the test. Please try to fill in every question," Ms. Richards says at the front of the classroom. I glance down at the sheet again. Sighing, I fill in random bubbles for the multiple choices. It was no use. I would still be moved back to Lilac Hills Orphanage and be expelled from this school. Goodbye, Lorella Boarding School. Hello, hell.
And wasn't going to be the first year I had flunked the final exam and been kicked out of a school. It had happened to me just about every year at different times. Sometimes I was only a week before the school caught on fire or I broke and punched someone in the face. But this year, I had lasted until the end. I had been proud but that didn't help that yesterday when a girl was yelling at me, she had passed out.
"Time's up! Please, set down your exam," Ms. Richards calls out. I swear silently and snap my pencil in frustration. I close the packet and grab my bag. With a spare glance at the clock, the bell rings. The class pours into the hallway, excited because it was the last day. I stay to the outer edges of the crowd, trying to not draw any attention to myself. I walk over to the brightly red lockers and try to slip through the crowd silently. I sigh, my face falling at the person I see ahead of me.
"What are you doing this summer, charity case?" Ashlynne smirks. Knowing her, as well as I do (which isn't much) she would be going on a month long cruise, celebrating in a Nice, France summer house and crashing her third red convertible.
I shrug, trying to push past her. "Depends."
"On what? Whoever you find to get money off of?" Ashlynne laughs. A good four feet around us the crowd has turned to watch. They knew she found pleasure in teasing me and making fun of people pourer and well, smarter than her.
"I don't except peoples' offerings. If you had a brain, you would know that," I snap, passing her and walking to my locker. I turn the dial three times, pulling up the lock. I grab my next class's books and stuff them into my bag. I turn around and find Ashlynne hiding behind a handful of her cheerleader friends.
"I have a brain! Daddy had to send me to the doctor to check. Speaking of the doctor, Taylor's in a coma," she hisses. I laugh slightly at the earlier comment. The name begins a series of whispers and murmurs in the crowd, gathering around me.
"Taylor?" I ask, scanning my brain for that name. Taylor… I knew she was a cheerleader and hung out in Ashylnne's posse. She was known for kissing other girls' boyfriends.
"The girl you almost killed yesterday," Brianna, another cheerleader says.
"The doctor who's treating her said there is no physical cause. So, what do you do to her witch?" Ashlynne hisses. I find myself switching between looking at the crowd and counting how many wore the new style of necklace or the window on the other wall. A sharp pain on my cheek brings me to look back at her. I raise my hand to my cheek.
"Maybe the same thing I'll do to you!" I shout, feeling my nails dig into my hand. I step forward, watching the whole cheerleading team step backwards. I raise my fist and a cracking noise sounds. Ashlynne bends over, clutching her nose.
"You'll hear from my lawyer, brat!" she screams, dashing down the hall. She stumbles before reaching the stairs and lets out an exacerbated cry. I roll my eyes, waving my hand. The crowd rushes to their next class, not wanting to be the next victim.
"Melinda Morana, please report to the office," a voice over the intercom announces. Now, everyone knew of my incident. I begin walking down the three stories to the principal's office. At the door, I hesitate before opening it. Would they expel me here or call the headmistress of the orphanage? Did I mention yet Ashlynne's father is the principal of the school? I didn't matter if I hadn't done anything (though I did), she would have me expelled before the end of the last day. I could have said I had finished a grade, but why don't destroy a dream?
"Come in!" the vice principal shouts through the door. I open the door and sit down in a chair in front of his desk. Who was he? I was positive I had never seen him before. Wasn't the vice Principal Mrs. Greene? I had seen her yesterday after I had caused that girl to collapse.
"Who are you? What happened to Mrs. Greene?" I ask, tilting my head to the side slightly.
"Melinda Morana. Give me the trident!" the principal screams. I stand up, backing up to the door.
"I have no idea what you're talking about. You must have me confused and if you don't mind, I'll be leaving," I snap, turning to the door. A silver spike shoots from behind my back and hits the door, about two inches above my hand. I turn, shocked.
I had seen the creature before. It was straight out of a library book from when we had to do an essay on Mythology. Automatically, I had been given Greek Mythology and had brought home a book about five inches thick on what was well, a myth. The principal had kept his face but now had the body of a lion. A lethal, leathery tail swayed behind him. What was it called?
"You're a manticore," I realized, the word slipping from my tongue.
"Very good. But you'll have to do better than that to stay alive!" he leaps forward, another silver spike thrown from his tail. I duck, circling the outer edge of the room. He throws another one and I dive sideways behind a plant. I slowly crawl towards the desk. "This isn't a game of hide and seek. Give me the trident and I will spare your life. You refuse and I'll take it from your dead body."
"Never! I don't even know what you're talking about," I say.
And does it look like I care, I think. I reach the desk and pick up a stapler. With a clear throw, I toss it at the turned back of the manticore. I hear the manticore curse as it shoots a staple into the tail of it. With a final look, I slam my fist against the red button under the desk and dive out the window.
