Published: February 19th, 2016
Last Edited: Date of publish
Word count: 4,985
Excuse the typos, everyone makes mistakes.
Thank you to all who reviewed, alerted, and faved, you won't believe how happy it makes me.
Chapter II
"Puzzles are made to be solved."
"Come on, children! Let's all get on the bus now!"
Pixie already detested Mrs. Kerr, an incredibly annoying and a bit-too-perky-to-be-natural blonde who she had never seen before in her life. Every other student acted as if she had always been there, not finding anything wrong as the teacher quiet literally skipped onto the bus with a big, toothy smile plastered across her face.
Mrs. Kerr placed a hand on her shoulder as she boarded the bus, one of the last to enter the cursed vehicle, and Pixie fought every instinct that told her to rip that hand away from her.
She glared at the blonde, shrugged the hand off, and said, "What?"
She just wanted to go back and see if she couldn't dig up a first-aid box in her room somewhere - she knew she had one.
Mrs. Kerr smiled kindly, looking at her with understanding. "You can always come to me if you want to talk, I won't judge."
Pixie somehow seriously doubted that.
"The bus ride isn't that long either."
Her hand twitched, the Itch slowly working its way back. She knew Mrs. Kerr was just trying to help, but honestly she was only making it worse by making her aware of it.
"So don't worry. I'm sure we can even take a break along the way back!"
And there came the hand again, caressing the top of her head. Pixie gritted her teeth, and just as she took a swipe at her teacher Jackson pulled her back by her hoodie.
Mrs. Kerr yelped, jumping back. "Wh-what? P-Pixie?"
Pixie tried to jerk out of Jackson's hold, and silently cursed over the fact that he was stronger than her. When her efforts bore no fruit, she stopped stiffly and glared heatedly. "Don't touch me."
Jackson's grip on her tightened briefly. "Relax. I have something you can burn when we get back." He was, of course, whispering that last part.
"... Fine." she finally said, after much consideration. "Now let go."
Jackson smiled that lopsided smile of his, but let her go so she could board the bus.
.01
Pixie carefully peeled off the bandages around her right forearm, wincing as some of the dried blood stuck to the stained cloth. She wetted a towel under the sink in the bathroom, and placed it over the still stuck bandages, feeling goosebumps rise at the near burning temperature.
She pursed her lips, quickly getting lost in her thoughts and forgetting everything about the hot towel. An illusion - she knew it sounded stupid, but it was the only thing she could call it, unless everyone were on drugs - seemed to have befallen every student, every teacher, every hired personal, of their school.
Everyone but Jackson.
(Maybe they were the ones on drugs, but the, now pleasant, warmth that encased her forearm told her otherwise.)
She was... happy she wasn't the only one who was slowly going insane, if that was what was happening, but Pixie had her doubts.
Mrs. Kerr had been there since the school year started, Mrs. Dodds had never existed, and they were really starting to creep people out.
Not for one second did she believe any of those things - except for maybe that last one. Jackson may not have figured out what Mrs. Dodds is (or, well, was), but he did know something had happened, something that couldn't just be explained like that.
He would spring a Mrs. Dodds reference every now and then, hoping the students would get caught off guard and reveal themselves - they never did. They honestly believed Mrs. Kerr had always been their teacher and there hadn't ever been a Mrs. Dodds.
Now, Pixie wasn't a stranger to odd events, she could specifically tell you about that one time she had seen a rhino sized dog that definitely did not look like your average domestic dog, or when the shadow of a lamppost had bent out of shape towards her. So yeah, it wasn't exactly the weirdest thing that had happened to her.
Then, one day, Jackson asked Underwood about Mrs. Dodds.
It seemed to her that they should have done that from the very beginning, as when Jackson mentioned the name Dodds, Underwood would become very still, hesitant, and then claim she didn't exist - had never existed.
Rightfully so, though she found Jackson holding her back, she tried to take a swipe at Underwood for being a filthy little liar.
(Underwood had made sure a good three meters were between them at all times for the following week, and for good reason too.)
Pixie peeled the wet towel off her arm, throwing it into the sink, and removed the rest of her bandages.
She knew better, however, she knew it was real and she had the proof cut across her right arm. They were red and angry-looking, the three relatively short cuts, and marred the underside of her forearm, right in the middle.
(She vaguely wondered if it would scar.)
Someone knocked on the bathroom door once, twice, trice.
"Pixel?"
"Jackson..." How had he gotten in? She lived at the very end of the girls' hallway, and because there was an odd number of dorm rooms, it held a small bathroom for itself, so he couldn't have come in via a shared bathroom like the other dorms had.
Jackson stood in the open doorway, leaning against the frame as his brow furrowed with something she couldn't quite decipher. "What're you doing?"
Pixie glanced at the clock through the bathroom door, to the side of Jackson's head. It was past midnight and she could see he had been sleeping before now, because his hair was still ruffed and he was even wearing his pajamas, though he had a wind breaker thrown on.
"How did you get in?" She asked instead, almost instantly feeling the cold breeze crawling around her ankles and arms. "... You climbed in through my window." She knew there was a tree right outside said window, because she used it herself when she felt like a late night walk.
His cheeks flared red. "Um, yeah...?"
"You're an idiot."
"And you didn't answer my question." He said matter of factly, quickly forgetting about the blush on his face as he pushed off from the doorframe, blocking the way out - however unknowingly.
She followed his gaze down to the wounds across her arm, briefly flickering her eyes back up to view his reaction.
Concern was the most prominent emotion, anger came next, though for once it wasn't directed at her.
"Is that from-?"
She nodded, beginning to wrap clean bandages around the cuts.
"So it was real?"
She raised an eyebrow. "Well I sure didn't cut myself."
Jackson winced, face twisting into a grimace, though when he opened his mouth to speak - something stupid and sappy no doubt - she interrupted him. "Will you close the thrice damned window? It's freezing in here."
He gave her arm one last look, as she tied a knot to keep it in place, before he went back out to close the window.
She cleaned up after herself and leaned against the door frame, watching as Jackson heaved and pulled at the window. Wind was blowing in at full force and the cold air was starting to really annoy her.
"Fucking- shit." Jackson gave one finally heave and successfully closed it, jamming the lock back down. "I know the weather's been absolute hell, but this is bordering ridiculousness."
He had a point. Just last week a thunderstorm had blown out the windows in some of the dorm rooms, which was why she made it a point to keep hers closed, though she usually did that anyway, and the other day a sudden storm kicked up and cracked the old tree whilst she was in it. A few days after, i.e. yesterday, the biggest tornado ever spotted in the Hudson Valley touched down only a little less than a hundred metres from Yancy Academy.
Pixie hummed-
"I won't be coming back next year."
-and blinked. "What?"
"The headmaster- he sent a letter to my mum, because of all the trouble I've been getting into lately, so now I won't be coming back."
"Huh..." That made her oddly... Eh, she couldn't tell - didn't particularly want to either.
"'Huh'? That's all you have to say?"
She sent him a glare. "What? You want me to cry and tell you how much I'll miss you and 'please don't leave!'"
He pouted. "That would have been nice yes."
Pixie rolled her eyes. "Forget it."
Jackson sighed. "Can I at least sleep here? The windows still haven't been fixed in my room."
"... You can sleep on the coach but only if you give me first pickings from the candy you smuggle in - for free."
"You get 200kg."
"Six."
"Two and a half."
"Seven."
"You can't just go up, that's not how it works! You get 300 and that's that."
"Eight."
"Will you- fine! Four."
A baring of teeth in a mock of a smile. "Deal."
.02
It was the middle of the night.
Funny how they kept on meeting like this.
She cocked one dark eyebrow. "Out for a last night snack, are we?"
Jackson huffed, looking slightly annoyed as he raised the book in his hand. "Can't figure this out, so I figured I might as well ask Mr. Brunner."
"What fun."
Exam week was getting closer, she knew, and almost everyone were either studying like never before or doing what they've always been doing: slacking off. She, surprisingly enough, belonged to the former group. Pixie knew if she wanted to have any chance of getting away from this place she'd have to have good grades - that was a fact and she refused to fail.
He gave her a very dry look. "Your enthusiasm simply overwhelms me."
Pixie's lips curled upwards. "Don't get too overwhelmed now, I'm not going to drag you back to your room, if so by your feet."
"Thanks, Pixel. Truly thanks."
"Anytime." ... Nah, she couldn't be bothered to do that. "Actually, forget that, don't ever disturb me if I'm sleeping, playing a game or curently threatening someone."
A rather satisfying smack floated through the hallway as Jackson slapped his forehead, hand running down his face.
"You know what? I'm not dealing with this right now, nope, no way, not happening." She followed after him as he mumbled to himself, a little smug smirk on her lips and green eyes glinting in the dim light, going in the direction of the faculty offices. Most of them were dark and empty when they passed them, but Mr. Brunner's door was ajar, light from his window stretching across the floor.
They were nearly at the door when Pixie heard voices from inside the office. Mr. Brunner asked a question, she could tell from the pitch of his voice, but it was too muffle for her to hear what was being said.
A voice that was definitely Underwood's said, "... worried about Percy, sir. Even Pixie is sticking closer to him than usual."
Pixie froze and apparently Jackson had the same idea, because he grabbed her wrist, and not her sleeve even though he knew she hated being touched, to stop her. They both stood as still as they could.
Eavesdropping wasn't something she had a problem with, especially not when a student was talking about another student (or two in this wonderful case) to a teacher.
Nope, there was absolutely no morals getting in the way.
She inched closer with Jackson in toe, both trying their best to be quiet.
"... alone this summer," Underwood said. "I mean, a Kindly One in the school! Now that we know for sure, and they know too-"
"We would only make matters worse by rushing him," Mr. Brunner said. "We need the boy to mature more. Miss Fleur is a problem in and of herself. She has been at this school for a long time now, if she really was... Nonetheless there is something that unnerves me."
Pixie narrowed her eyes, anger seething in the pit of her stomach and the Itch crawling up her spine and making her fingers twitch.
"But he may not have time. The summer solstice deadline-"
"Will have to be resolved without him, Grover. Let him enjoy his ignorance whilst he still can. Hopefully the Mist over the students and staff will be enough to convince both that nothing happened."
What was Mist? A form of drug? A gas?
"Sir, I... I can't fail in my duties again." Underwood's voice was overrun with emotion, the words coming out of his mouth seeming to almost choke him. "You know what that would mean."
"You haven't failed, Grover," Mr. Brunner said kindly. "I should have seen her for what she was. Now let's just worry about keeping Percy alive until next fall-"
The mythology book dropped out of Jackson's hand and hit the floor with a loud thud.
Pixie gave a start.
Mr. Brunner went silent.
Time seemed to have stopped as she felt her heart hammering in her chest, blood rushing in her ears. Jackson quickly picked up the book and they sped down the hall.
Pixie whispered hurriedly, "Go to your room before Underwood gets back," to which Jackson nodded, and then they ran in each of their direction. She would have preferred it if he had come with her, as the girls' hallway was closer, but then Underwood would know he had been out past curfew because they shared a room.
It was only when she had closed the door to her dorm behind her that she stopped running and took a deep breath, letting her forehead rest against the wood.
What the ever living hell did all that mean?
Where 'they' actually Mrs. Dodds? A Kindly One, they had called her.
Thoughts were churning around in her head and she slid down the door, running a hand through feathered, sooty black hair, of which was cut in a style she shared her name with - or, well, her nickname shared a name with.
(Pixie didn't recall how it started, just that people started calling her that instead and quickly - happily - forgot her real one.
A malevolent pixie at best, and a monster at worst. That was all she was.)
She sighed.
Could she say that she was too old for this shit? Probably not.
.03
Pixie was playing with the pencil in her hand the very next afternoon, eyes squinted at the paper in front of her. The Latin exam was underway, and she was sitting in the front of the class for once - because it meant she could get out easier -, wishing the blanks would just magically fill them themselves with the correct answers.
She was doubling back through the whole sheet for the third time, looking through the ones she skipped, when she heard a chair scrap against the floor.
The next thing she heard was Mr. Brunner calling Jackson back inside. Pixie stilled her scribbling, head still down but ears listening intently to the conversation about to happen. And in front of the whole class, too.
What the hell was Mr. Brunner thinking?
"Percy," she heard him say. "Don't be discouraged about leaving Yancy. It's... it's for the best."
Oh god. It was about that, was it.
Mr. Brunner may have had a special talent with that kind tone of his, but that did not make the words he was saying any less embarrassing. Even worse was the fact the other students finishing the test could hear, she was a prime example of that, and from the corner of her eye she saw Bobofit smirking at Jackson and make sarcastic little kissing motions with her lips.
Pixie felt half inclined to pound her face into the ground, if not for Jackson's sake then for her own.
"Okay, sir." Jackson mumbled.
"I mean..." Mr. Brunner paused and she heard the squeaking of his wheelchair, as if he was rolling his chair back and forth, like he wasn't sure what to say. "This isn't the right place for you. It was only a matter of time."
"Right," Jackson said, voice strained.
"No, no," Mr. Brunner said. "Oh, confound it all. What I'm trying to say-"
Pixie slammed her paper down on the desk, rising from her seat. "I'm done."
Mr. Brunner and Jackson, including the rest of the students still there, gave a collective jump, apparently haven forgotten where they were.
Mr. Brunner furrowed his brow at her, tone stern. "Miss Fleur, that is no way to-"
"I'm aware," she said, gathering her stuff and placing her test paper on his desk, "but maybe you should find another place to speak with your students - it's distracting, not to say rather annoying." She glared at him, pulling the hood of her sweatshirt over her head for better effect, as her lips tugged down.
"Miss Fleur-"
Oh he could 'Miss Fleur' her all he'd like but that was still not going to make her give a rat's ass, she thought darkly.
However it wasn't her that interrupted him.
"Thanks a lot, sir," Jackson said cooly, "Thanks for trying to remind me." With that he walked out of the classroom, and for once Pixie followed after him without hesitation.
He wanted to be normal, that much was obvious, and for the first time Pixie felt like she wasn't so along anymore.
.04
They may have been on a Greyhound, and pouncing people inside one probably wasn't the greatest idea, but Underwood wasn't doing himself any favour - nothing that would quench that desire at least, only make it worse.
Why was she considering beating him up right then and there, well, Pixie was wondering if that would finally start making him spill everything - maybe even admit Mrs. Dodds was real. Preferably before his guts did the same, Percy wouldn't be too pleased with her if that happened. And she had refrained from doing so, as there currently wasn't any blood bath to behold.
(Pity.)
Though that was mostly because Percy choose that same exact moment to say, "Looking for Kindly Ones?"
A most wicked grin overtook her face as Underwood did a fantastic job of trying to jump into the next row of seats, a little squeak escaping his lips.
"I-I-I I don't know what you're talking about!" His face twitched and he quickly glanced down the aisle again. He had done so the whole ride, nervously twitching every once in a while, keeping a surpisious eye on the other passengers. He especially got down right anxious whenever someone moved too fast or spoke too loudly.
She knew he was on a lookout for whatever was after Percy, it was kind of obvious, since he'd even gone out of his way by booking a ticket to the same Greyhound as him.
(It was a coincident she'd ended up on the same bus as Percy. A coincident.)
Pixie scoffed, lips curling into a sneer she was rather proud of. "Oh I'm pretty sure you know what he means, so why don't you just spill."
Underwood paled, but he still squeaked, "W-what do you know?"
Percy didn't seem to mind Underwood's constant evasions too much, but even he must have a breaking point. "Oh, not much." He replied casually, buffing his nails on his chest. "What's the summer solstice deadline?"
Underwood flinched. "Look, Percy... I was just worried for you, see? I mean, hallucinating about demon math teachers..." He sent Pixie a quick glance.
"Grover-"
"And I was telling Mr. Brunner that maybe you were overstressed or something, because there was no such person as Mrs. Dodds, and-"
"You're a terrible liar, Underwood." She said.
Underwood's ears somehow turned pink, whilst the rest of his face drain of colour. He quickly pulled out a grubby business card from his shirt pocket. "Just take this, okay? In case you need me this summer."
The card was in a fancy script, from what she could see over Percy's shoulder, and it was doing nothing for her dyslexic eyes. In the end, Pixie got it to something like:
Grover Underwood
Keeper
Half-Blood Hill
Long Island, New York
(800) 009-0009
"What's Half-"
"Don't say it out loud!" Underwood yelped, cutting Percy off. "That's my, um... summer address."
Pixie let her eyes fall upon the nervous rack that was Grover Underwood and glared. She didn't think he was necessarily lying - didn't mean he was exactly telling the truth either.
"Okay," Percy said glumly - he must've figured Underwood was another one of those rich kids. "So, like, if I want to come visit your mansion."
Underwood nodded quickly. "Or... or if you need me."
"Why would I need you?" Percy said harshly.
Pixie tilted her head, blinking. That was... Surprisingly harsh coming from Percy.
Underwood blushed right down to his Adam's apple. "Look, Percy," her own name was added almost reluctantly, "the truth is, I-I kind of have to protect you two."
Percy stared at him, like he couldn't believe him, which wasn't that far off. Pixie barely believed him herself.
All year long Percy had got into fights (Pixie, well, Underwood was Percy's friend, she didn't care too much for him), doing his best to keep bullies away from him, and now Underwood was the one protecting him? (Them?)
Pixie looked down at the card in Percy's hand, one word in particular standing out to her. "Is that what 'Keeper' means?" she raised her eyes to survey Underwood's reaction. "That you're assigned to keep someone safe?"
He blanched, turning the color of snow, and as he stammered and stuttered a denial the bus suddenly jerked forth, sending both Percy and Pixie into the seat in front of them.
There was a huge grinding noise under her feet, she could feel the small tremors in the floor, as black smoke poured out from the dashboard. It smelled like rotten eggs not unlike the computer back in science class.
(It seemed so long ago now.)
The driver cursed and steered the Greyhound over to the side of the highway.
After a few minutes clanking around in the engine compartment, the driver announced that they'd all have to get off. Percy, Pixie and Underwood filed outside with everybody else.
They were on a stretch of country road, the kind of place no one would notice, but Pixie rather liked it. It was very solitary, with nothing but maple trees and litter from passing cars on the side they were on. But across four lanes of asphalt shimmering with afternoon heat, was an old-fashioned fruit stand, and as she looked at it she felt a seemingly unbarerible hunger fall over her.
The stuff on sale looked delicious: heaping boxes of blood red cherries and apples, walnuts, pomegranates and apricots, jugs of cider in a claw-foot tub full of ice. Though weirdly enough, there were no customers, just three old ladies sitting in rocking chairs in the shade of a maple tree, knitting the biggest pair of socks she had ever seen.
Perhaps she should go over and buy some? She did have a rather generous amount of money from the things she'd sold this year.
The lady on the right knitted one of the enormous socks. The lady on the left knitted the other. The lady in the middle held an enormous basket of electric-blue yarn. All three women looked ancient, with pale faces wrinkled like fruit leather, silver hair tied back in white bandannas, bony arms sticking out of bleached cotton dresses.
Pixie looked closer, something she'd almost label as eerie enveloping her, and saw that they were staring straight at Percy. She locked eyes with one of them.
"Tell me they're not looking at you." Underwood said meekly, "They are, aren't they?"
She looked over at Underwood and saw that the blood had drained from his face, something that seemed to be happening a rather lot lately. His nose was twitching. She looked back at the fruit stand and her stomach gave a mighty growl.
Percy snorted, smiling amusedly. "Hungry?"
"A bit." She rubbed at her empty stomach, frowning. It was odd, why would she be hungry now? She'd just eaten before going on the greyhound. Shaking her head, she jerked a thumb towards the fruits. "Up for some?"
"Sounds good."
Underwood tried to stop them, waving his arms in the air as he blocked the way. "No! Don't!" Something like extreme panic had entered his voice, pupils full blown in fright.
Pixie rolled her eyes, sighing. Her stomach was currently the only thing she could think off. "And why ever not?"
Underwood moved his weight from foot to foot, fidgeting with his hands and glancing around. But he didn't answer. He couldn't, she noticed, watching as his jaw clenched and unclenched. She moved past the nervous boy with a scoff, just refraining from bumming her shoulder into his. Percy followed and patted Underwood on the shoulder as he went by.
Underwood went after them hesitantly, skimming an invisible circle around the pair.
"How much?" Percy asked, pointing to the goods.
The old woman on the right was the one who answered, voice wobbly and odd - like someone was playing the saw -, "Depends... what do you desire?" she peered at Pixie the same way she, herself, was looking at the fruits.
Pixie quickly picked out a few of the assorted fruit, Underwood squeaking behind her as he tried to make himself smaller, and took a jug of cider. She held them out to the old ladies, barely remembering to do so as her stomach was currently trying to eat itself.
The middle one peered at the fruits and cider in her hands, rambling off the price of which she paid. She stuffed the cider down in her bag, content to holding the cherries and pomegranates.
Percy had paid for a few apples and cider of his own and was in the process of putting it in his bag. Underwood quickly ushered them away, as Pixie plobbed a cherry into her mouth. She chewed slowly, spitting the stone out as she did so.
Odd, she wasn't all that hunger anymore.
When she looked back over her shoulder, the lady in the middle had taken a huge pair of scissors out. They were gold and silver, long-bladed, and almost like shears. She heard the unmistakeable hitch of Underwood's breath.
"We're getting on the bus," he told them, quickening his step. "Come on."
"What?" Percy said, eyeing the bus shrewdly. "It's a thousand degrees in there."
"Come on!'" But neither of the two were following anymore.
The three old women were still watching them. The middle one pulled forth a thread and cut the yarn with a loud snip. The other two women then balled up the electric-blue socks.
Percy and Pixie finally went back to the bus, where Underwood was. When he saw them, briefly looking back to the three old ladies, he - in a very uncharacteristic moment, with tear prickling at his eyes - kicked the bus and cursed.
"Styx!"
The bus gave a terrible shudder, like thunder, and the engine roared back to life. The passengers cheered.
"Great job, kiddo!" yelled the driver, coming over to slap Underwood on the back. "Everybody back on board!"
Once the bus got going again, Pixie looked over at the two boys because of the clattering she heard. Underwood was shivering and she found that it was his teeth that were causing the noise. Percy strangely looked like he'd caught the flu.
"Grover?" He asked.
"Yeah?"
"What just happened?"
Underwood dabbed his forehead with his shirtsleeve. "What did you see back at the fruit stand?"
"Three old ladies." Percy said.
Pixie stared at Underwood. "Are they like Mrs. Dodds?"
His expression was hard to read and he didn't answer, instead, he said, "Just tell me what you saw."
"The middle one took out her scissors, and cut the yarn." She said, more curious than miffed about being ordered.
He closed his eyes and made an odd gesture - a claw like motion over his heart, which he then pushed away from himself -, and she felt oddly uncomfortable as he did so. It was kind of like he was trying to chase evil spirits away.
"You saw her snip the cord." He said.
"Yeah. So?" Percy looked confused, but there was something in his eyes that told her he knew it wasn't a good thing either.
"This is not happening," Underwood mumbled. He started chewing on the nail of his thumb. "I don't want this to be like the last time."
Pixie cocked an eyebrow questioningly at him. "What last time?" she asked.
"Always sixth grade. They never get past sixth." He kept mumbling.
It was like someone had thrown a bucket of ice cold water down her back, because- Last time he protected someone, they didn't survive.
"Grover," Percy said. "What are you talking about?"
"Let me, at least, walk you home from the bus station. Promise me." Underwood looked like he was about to cry, so Percy promised he could. Underwood, to Pixie's utter surprise, turned his teary eyes onto her next. "Please?"
She stared at him, uncomprehending what was going on. What was this? Underwood was Percy's friend, not hers, so why would he bother with her? She'd been nothing but unkind to him.
She ended up agreeing, if only because she had no idea what was going on.
"Is this like a superstition or something?" Percy asked.
No answer.
"Grover, that snipping of the yarn. Does that mean somebody is going to die?"
Underwood looked at Percy mournfully, like he was already planning his coffin and which flowers to go with it, and sent Pixie a helpless look.
Cough, cough, I'll just crawl into a corner now and pretend I didn't update after I don't know how long...
Sigh.
(Pixie, why do you have to be so dark? Yeesh.)
And I'm probably asking a lot from you guys, but for those of you who've read 'The Underworld Princess' it would help me tremendously if you could tell me what you liked the most and what you liked the least, so I don't accidentally take out something you all loved and kept something you hated.
You can do that with this as well, if you feel like it, either way you have my thanks for reading my fic ;)
Lastly, I've posted a poll (which has absolutely nothing to do with this fic), so if you could go and answer that real quick and sate my curiosity that'd be greatly appreciated :)
Have a good day/night/whatever!
