Another week. Another Monday. And another chance for freaky goliaths to harass me in the hallways.
"What's up Danny?"
My head tilts back in a silent groan.
"Aww, don't look so upset, girl!"
Lazily flopping my head to the left, I give a withering glare to Big Man from period 3. And period 2, apparently. Referring to him as Big Man because the idiot has forgotten to tell me his name and I have not cared to ask.
"Very sorry for not jumping with joy," I grumble, closing my locker door. Turning away from him, I start down the hall in my typical relaxed gait.
"So…" he drawls, "Whatcha up to, Dan?"
"Hmm… not much, just thinking about ditching to get away from you and your stalker friends…" Big Man moves in front of me, walking backward. And yet he's still able to keep up perfectly fine. Those damn long legs.
"What, you'll talk to Seth but you won't even bother with little ol' me?" he says teasingly. I nearly snort. There's not a damn 'little' thing about him.
My eyes roll, and I try to step around him once we reach my classroom, but he moves to block me. "Seth isn't a total pest."
"Judgmental much?" Big Man snorts. "I think that Sethy is just as much of a pest, if not more. Like a puppy, right?"
"Right," my tone is flat. "Now move, I have a class to get into."
He holds up his hands, in a show of surrender but my guess is it's more of him trying to keep me from getting around him.
"Yeah right, Tiny, we both know you don't give a damn," he smirks, "So, it doesn't matter if you're late. Not to either of us. So just be a little patient and lemme talk, 'kay?"
My fists curl into little balls again. All of last week he was trying to talk to me, get me to "crack" and talk about my ex-girlfriend. Try and convince me into giving Creepy Boy a chance. Every single time that he opens his mouth, I end up getting worked up. Not totally. Just a little. Just enough to make me want to smack him and then run out of school. Well, 'run' as in walk as fast as I can. Shitty legs are still shitty legs when you're mad.
"Alright, great, staying quiet. So, my friend is having a, like, late lunch thing? Early dinner thing? I guess just a get-together kind of thing. There probably won't be an actual meal, just snacks, so I don't know. Just a thing," he rushes. Listening to him put together sentences is killing my brain cells. "Whatever. Super nice people, you'd love Emily, she makes great food. So, you're coming." The bell rings in the middle of his little… what, proposal? Suggestion? Order? Whatever it is, it has me gritting my teeth.
"Sounds awesome," I chirp with false enthusiasm. His face lights up into a disbelieving smile. "Except for the fact that I'm not interested and would rather be at home with my cat."
Big Man groans loudly, moving forward and pretty much forcing me backward so that he doesn't touch me. "C'mon, work with me, Dan. You gotta come. Non-negotiable. There are people to meet," he says firmly.
Pinching the bridge of my nose, I squeeze my eyes shut for just a second, taking a deep, collecting breath. What's the point of letting this prick get any emotional response? Letting my emotions run through me isn't going to help.
"You're right. Non-negotiable. I'm not going."
He groans more, but he is thoroughly distracted with his aggravation for me to slip by him and into my fourth-period class.
"You're late, Miss Freed."
Very helpful, Captain Obvious. Mr. Phillips sighs, body turned to the blackboard at the front of the class, but his face rotated to be looking at me.
"Sorry, sir," I mumble, walking right past him and down the aisle that leads to the table that Cody and I normally occupy.
"I'm afraid that'll be a detention for you this afternoon, Daniella."
My jaw clenches. Big Man was right about me not caring about me getting to class late. I don't exactly care that I have detention. But that's going to suck. It's going to be boring. And the teachers never let you sleep to pass the time away. You have to do homework. Which is a total waste of time when you will end up having copious amounts of missing homework assignments later in the semester, so what's the point of trying to keep up at the beginning?
"Of course," I grumble, flopping down into my seat, ignoring the questioning side-eye from my best friend.
"So… why were you late?"
After a torturously slow period of "paying attention" while under the particularly attentive eye of Mr. Phillips, Cody immediately jumps into his need-to-know routine used for whenever I do something out of the ordinary. Which, come on, it's not the first time I've been late to class, why does he bother being a spazz about it?
"Eh, one of the cultists was… inviting me to dinner, I guess."
His eyebrows rise with intrigue, eyes bulging ever so slightly before he collects himself as we continue down the hallway. "Which one?"
I shrug. "Not sure. He's super muscly? I guess? I haven't asked his name."
The slightly shaggy hair that sits atop his head sways harshly, his eyes really bulging from his head as he looks at me like I'm… insane? Stupid? Either/or I suppose. "You haven't-" he says loudly, pausing, and taking a deep breath. The freaked expression dissolves into a humorous smile. "You are absolutely ridiculous. You've got a group of juiced-up giants stalking you and you just… don't ask for names?" Cody tsks. "I don't even know why I try with you, honestly," neither do I, "your survival instincts are shit."
A small snort comes from the back of my throat. "Well, I'm so sorry for not caring about what their names are. I'm not exactly friends with any of them."
Cody rolls his eyes in an indulgent way.
"You're friends with the Clearwater kid," he points out. "Which, by the way, I find incredibly strange. He's a freshman, a cult member, he hangs out with all of those creeps… like, since when did you have any interest in friendships with anyone other than me?"
There's definitely a large part of me that wants to say Don't flatter yourself, but he does have a point. Whenever any one else tries to initiate conversation with me, they get shut down or it dwindles into awkward silence because I don't want to deal with the extra effort of unnecessary socialization (shudder).
So instead… "I'm not interested," (is that the truth?), "I just don't mind his company when he joins me in eighth period…" I mumble. Him calling attention to the fact that I have become friends with Seth makes me feel borderline uncomfortable. Moving here, I didn't even want to make a friend. Like, not one. At all. Because why bother? (Don't deserve it). The more people that I allow myself to get close to the more obligations. The more obligations, the less time for naps. It just doesn't work for my schedule.
Then why? Why do I tolerate Seth? Why do I think of him… fondly? It's overwhelming. It makes my lunges want to constrict into little balls, the air squeezing straight out of them and staying that way until my face turns blue and the tips of my fingers become numb. (Don't deserve it). He's such a ray of sunshine (don't deserve it). All joyous and optimistic. He's not even the type of person that I would necessarily become friends with back in Chicago. But I know why…
Flickers of dark curly hair. Bright eyes. So cute and innocent and it makes my hands shake, but it also offers a way to ground myself. I don't have to feel confusion about this. My memory, my feelings. Those I will be confused about. But this? I'm not blind nor oblivious. There's a difference between not caring and being a total imbecile.
He's just like her.
Which makes it harder. Which also makes it easier.
"M'kay," Cody rolls his eyes, his words effectively snapping me out of the potentially dangerous path that my thoughts were going down. The kid's happy and I don't care enough to tell him to piss off. Simple as that. (lies). "Well, you can enjoy that 'company' when you get kidnapped and he lets you be used as a sacrifice." The way he says it sounds like he doesn't mean it. More of just a joke. But I'm sure that somewhere inside of his conspiracy theory-rampant mind, he believes that it could very well be a possibility.
"I'll let you know so they can extend the invite," I say with an effortlessly practiced quirk of my lips. A ghost of a smile.
Cody snorts, sticking his nose up in the air in a mock-indignant way. "I'm afraid you'll just have to die alone then," he huffs.
I snicker, shaking my head, and he smiles at me before turning to the rest of the lunch table, joining in on their little conversation. On comic books. Marvel vs. DC. They're such dorks…
Tick. Tick. Tick.
My eyes flicker from the page of math homework below me to the clock hanging in the front of the room. After an hour of sitting in this room, not even allowed to let my eyes rest, for the ever present threat of getting smacked with a ruler keeps my head upright, I can say that this is one of the more agonizing days that I've had in a while.
Purely by coincidence, Christopher is sitting in the same classroom, facing the same consequence of 'poor behavior' as I am. Detention. (I vaguely wonder what Chris could've done to get landed here. Molestation? Peeping in the girls locker room?). Mr. Phillips really knows how to ruin someone's already below-average day. Usually I wouldn't even be too upset about a detention, but having to be in the same room with this a-hole has put an extra dampener on my mood.
I mean, I don't have any classes with him. The only reason that we really ran into each other for the first time was because he was in the library at the same time as I was. There was a weird vibe about him. Later, I realized that he sat with the group of boys at lunch that has been dubbed the 'future sex offenders' that Cody pointed out on my first day. Which totally explains that feeling I get when he's around. It's a particular knot in my stomach that could easily be mistaken for hunger, or even the occasional period cramp. But then when the hair on the back of my neck stands up, it can only be expected to find the creeper close behind.
Like right now. From the moment he walked into the room, the pit in my gut has grown and grown and grown. Really, it shouldn't be this bad. The guy isn't that much bigger than me. Or at least not in comparison to some of the other belonging to the male species that I have been spending time with lately (meaning Cody and Seth). I highly doubt that he'd even be able to overpower me. Growing up in the city has gifted me with a natural aptitude for self defense. Scrawny boys that have probably never even seen a proper fist fight hardly hold a candle to the grown ass men that don't seem to understand that they shouldn't be catcalling women, much less underage school girls.
I'll just say… that I don't enjoy being around the kid. In the seventeen years of my life, I have learned that when my instincts tell me that I need to hightail it out of there, I do it. No matter how infrequent that seems to be lately (thank you very much Cody for pointing out the steady decline in said survival instincts) I know when I need to listen. That was one of the first lessons that I was taught as a kid, and it's stuck with me. At least mama's got that to be proud of.
When Mr. Phillips announces that we are free to leave, the sheet of paper that I have been staring blankly at for the past hour is shoved into my backpack, fated to the dark emptiness of my school bag.
I walk out of the room as fast as I can, though still very careful in my haste because crumbling to the floor while in a miles radius of creepy males is something that I would very much so enjoy to avoid.
Pounding footsteps quickly approach as I burst through the schools' exit doors, cool air whipping the pale skin of my face. If I could escape the looming figure now on my right, I would, but with the threat of collapse already twinging up my legs, I have to resign myself to such hellish company.
"Hey hottie." The 'term of endearment' on his tongue makes the prickles of unease dancing on my skin all the stronger. It's the wrong tone, the wrong voice. Cody and his 'pet names' are inevitable, but not unpleasant. The rotation of honey, sweetheart, darling. More original ones tend to be scattered somewhere in there. Gorgeous, cutie, shortstuff. The latter is intended to annoy me more than anything. Even the little nicknames that Seth has come up with are reasonably tolerable. Though I have found that the soft spot that I have for the boy is disgustingly tender. When he calls me midget, for the sole reason of teasing me back when I call him Freshy, I don't mind it. There's an occasional twitch of my nose, my tell of annoyance, but I don't feel the need to tell him to shove it, or to reprimand him for making fun of my height (or lack thereof). It sometimes even makes a very irritating (and terrifying) feeling of warmth rise up in my chest. I wish I could say that I don't know the reason behind my lack of opposition, but it's undoubtedly the slight fogginess that falls upon my eyes, making the darling little girl that haunts my dreams appear in place of the man-child. It invokes a feeling of brief panic, as most of my non-caged and uncontrolled thoughts tend to do. A feeling of guilt and self-hatred. It tends to dissipate nearly as soon as it comes, thankfully, but when reflecting on our conversations while sitting in a boring class, or when struggling to fall back asleep after a particularly disturbing dream… it makes my stomach clench and my eyes burn. It makes the horizontal marks on my forearms itch for new additions to join the collection.
"What do you want?" I make an attempt at animosity, but it comes out as exhausted.
Chris smiles, easily walking beside me down the street. I begin cursing my decision to tell Cody not to bother picking me up, as his shift at the cafe down in Forks is in about twenty five minutes. He might've made it… if he sped like twenty miles above the speed limit but… nah, road rules should take priority over me and some freaky guy.
"I just wanna walk you home," he responds innocently, which is a total contradiction to the horrendous feeling sitting in my gut. "It's not safe for cute little girls to be walking alone, didn't you know that?" The cringe worthy attempt at flirting almost makes my shoulders scrunch up to my ears. Gross. Everything about this boy irks me. I'd take Creepy Boy over Scary Boy any day.
While I walk along the sidewalk, Christopher droning on beside me, being purposefully blocked out, a while Honda slows down on the road, little splashes from puddles drawing my attention over to it.
"Hey Dan." It's Big Man. He's smiling from the backseat, window rolled down and showing his obviously cramped form in the small car. I slow down my pace as well, grimacing when Chris takes a step closer to me. "Need a ride home, Tiny?"
"Of course she doesn't, I'm walking with her," Chris says loudly. He shuffles just a little bit closer, nearly brushing against my arm before I take a step away.
I pause to think for a second, head tilted to the side. Why am I even stopping to think about this? It sounds like a good deal to me. Get off my feet, out of the cold, and away from Scary Boy.
Not even giving a verbal answer, I start to walk to the car, pulling the backpack off of my shoulder.
"Danny! The hell are you doing?" Chris snaps. Which I ignore, pulling the door open and climbing up into the car.
In the front passenger seat, there's another man. I recognize him, I think that I have a class or two with him, but I don't actually know him… and then the one who is driving is that Ember dude. Well, that is if my memory is working halfway decently today.
The car starts forward again, and I let out a little sigh of relief, finally able to relax into the leather seat as we leave the scrawny boy behind.
"So, who's that guy?"
I look up into the front passenger seat, making eye contact with the bulky man.
"Christopher Franklin. He's a prick," I grumble. Big Man to the right of me snickers while the guy in the front of him smirks.
"Really? So you don't like him?" Ember asks, glancing at me through the rearview mirror.
I snort. "Oh no, I definitely adore the guy, but I thought that it would be fun to get in a car with a group of guys that I don't know."
Big Man gasps dramatically, placing a hand on his chest in mock offense. He really is just a more annoying version of Cody… "You know us! Or at least, you know me."
"I don't even know your name," I deadpan. We both stare at each other for a few moments. The gears spinning in his head are nearly visible through his thick skull.
"Shit," he finally says, "you're right…" his grin broadens before he continues, "well, I'm Quil Ateara." One mystery solved I guess.
The other two men are laughing, and all I can do is look at Quil like he is…
The dumbest person that I have ever met.
"Dude, you forgot to tell her your name?" The man in the passenger seat cackles, shaking his head in disbelief. "You idiot," he wheezes. Forcing himself to calm down while Quil pouts, he turns back to me. "I'm Jacob Black, and I think you know Embry Call," he motions to the driver. So… it's not Ember then… "So, now, you do know us."
"And we of course know you," Quil adds.
I hum in vague acknowledgement. Obviously that has been common knowledge for me, but I guess his lack of brain cells made him feel the need to clarify.
"So, are you guys actually driving me home or is this a kidnapping? 'Cuz I would really hate to prove my friend right," I say indifferently. And that is one hundred percent the truth. If Cody ends up being correct and I am supposed to be some type of sacrifice for whatever cult they may or may not be a part of, that would really suck. If for no other reason than I can't prove him wrong, because he would probably gloat over it while at my funeral, as morbid as that is.
Jacob turns around in his seat to look at me weirdly, while Embry covers a laugh with a cough and Quil smiles slightly maniacally.
"Um, you got into this car with us," Jacob says in a 'what the fuck is wrong with you' kind of tone. He's got a point there, but he still didn't answer my question.
"Yeah, sure, but you're not taking me home, are you?"
Quil snickers. "Nah, you're coming with us, Tiny."