Chapter 2
Back To School
All Eyes on Freak
A/N: Ok, I don't own much except the stuff you don't recognize. There may be some triggering qualities in this chapter, if you are easily upset or disgusted... well you're warned. Um... you should review and PM me. Uh, yeah see ya?
As every one of the students filed into the Great Hall for the annual opening feast, I tried to merge in with the crowd. The episode in the carriage had been discomforting enough without the whole school having to ask questions about it.
I quietly sat down at the end of the Gryffindor table and waited for the sorting to begin. I knew Isla would be at the head of the line. Transfers always went first in the sorting; somehow they were a nuisance and just needed to get out of the way. So I deliberated about the earlier events as quickly as I could before she came bouncing up to find me. I knew she would be a Gryffindor; she had that quality about her, that quality I once had, so it was only a matter of time.
I knew why my eyes had changed in the cart. I was envious. No, not jealous, jealousy is such a repulsive word. I'm not really sure what it was, but I know I didn't like the emotion. It was bizarre for me to react that way, Draco Malfoy was just being his slimy little self, why should I care if he was making moves on my new friend. That's what I considered her I suppose. Although, it was a tad too soon for me to make any assumptions in that department. I always had temporary acquaintances, but then something would drive them away. Why was I resentful of Isla anyway, just because she had perfect flaxen hair, and bright cerulean eyes and a coy smile that would put the Mona Lisa to shame…? Oh god. I really was jealous. That is pathetic, envious that she was getting Malfoy's attention? What was this world coming to?
Just then my thoughts were interrupted by a crashing applause from the Gryffindor table. Isla came scurrying down the aisle and plopped down on the bench across from me. She squealed, "Yay, I can't believe we're in the same house! Yay, I would hate to have had to make new friends. It is such a bother you know?"
Of course this question was rhetorical because she went on to jabbering about another completely different topic. You may believe that I have become quite uninteresting and sullen in the past few years. But I have some first-rate reasons for it.
For the past six years I had lived in my older brothers' shadows. Both the twins and Ron. I don't hate them, but I did suffer from feeling a little left out. I was individual too, but did anyone notice my exceptional powers, my comings and goings? No, they were always to busy laughing at George and Fred's jokes, or praising Ron for being the fantastic loyal friend. Ya know, I just wanted to be noted, not even by a lot of people, maybe just by my parents. But of course, that would never happen as long as the older siblings were around. Another cause for my bitterness is the Golden Trio. Yes, I was friends with them for a while. True, I dated Harry Potter, the school's freakin' hero. But I felt shadowed; they only came to me when they were bored to tears. No one called me when they need help, no one called for any exciting activities, and no one called to just see how I was feeling. A little attention was not good enough for Ginny Weasley, the sweet, innocent, always accommodating little sister. I was forced to stay behind.
Now that I'm done ranting, we continue with the story, right? Dinner went rather uneventfully. The Golden Trio sat as close to the Teacher's table as possible. Draco and Hermione were named Head Boy and Head Girl… who didn't see that one coming right? Contrary to her earlier comment about new acquaintances, Isla flitted up and down the table chattering like a little squirrel. Not soon enough were we dismissed to go to our dorms.
Isla and I wandered toward the Gryffindor tower, everyone around me seemed to be moving in high speed. The clamor of the other students seemed too loud. We finally arrived at the painting of the Fat Lady and learned the password. Sugar Nips. How imaginative. We entered the common room and Isla went wild. "Ooooh! It's sooo adorable!" she gushed. She scurried from the desks to the couches and over to each set of staircases.
"Why don't we head on up to the dorm room, you can come back down but it is custom for everyone to be there for the picking of the beds." I said quietly, suddenly thunderous noises were not my best friend. I could tell that my eyes were beginning to alter again, but I refused to acknowledge it and give in.
We made our way upstairs to the sixth door on the left. There were only four sixth year girls this year so our space was relatively big for such a small number of inhabitants. After there was a little debate and reasoning, I ended up with the bed closest to the window, Isla closest to the bathroom, Rena near the exit, and Lux close to the fireplace. All were in high spirits so Isla fluttered out of the room and I began to unpack. I pulled back the scarlet curtains around my bed to see Mikoo already there curled up on my pillow. Somehow she always knew what bed I would decide on.
I was getting terribly bogged down and agitated with the chittering of the two girls that stayed in the room. I smoothly took out my bath kit and made sure my razor was there. I inconspicuously wandered toward the bathroom. My eyes were burning a hot yellow when I looked in the mirror. I didn't really know what that meant but I locked the door behind me and slid to the tiled floor. I pulled my razor from the basket and shook it a bit until one of the blades fell out into my hand. Rolling back my black sleeve I examined my arm. There were already pale lines across my skin and I searched for an empty place among the garden of white scars. One close to my wrist. I took a deep breath and drug the blade across the skin. The metallic chill gave me relief and goose bumps. There was a knock at the door but I ignored it. This was my time, no one should interrupt. I watched as a crimson river slid down my hand. The blood dripped onto the white tile, staining the grout where it landed. A quote came to my mind: "Nothing makes us so lonely as our secrets." I don't really remember where it came from but I remember that it was perfect for my current situation. The banging suddenly got frantic at the door. I rolled my eyes, which were slowly returning to normal. I looked down again at the wound I had inflicted on myself and realized that the bleeding seemed to have sped up, the puddle on the floor was no longer a small quarter sized amount, it was now much larger. The door lock popped open; someone was determined to get in. How long had I been in the bathroom? The door swung open, catching me with a red and dripping blade in one hand and a pool of blood under the other.
A/n: Thanks for reading, umm, let me know what you think! Thanks tons! And sorry for the cliffy.