The 7 Sisters.
Chapter 1.
Lydia.
My father always told me that the world was small, that there were things so much bigger than us, things that, without help, would be impossible to withstand. For a long time, I thought he was just speaking crazy talk. What could possibly be so big in the small town of Acworth, Georgia?
I think about this in the silent of my room. I should be asleep by now. I stare at the clock that reads 2:30 A.M, and it stares back. What? Two thirty already? I could've sworn it was nine O'clock just five seconds ago.
Tomorrow was my first day of the tenth grade, and I wasn't looking forward to it, because I knew exactly what would happen. Me and Demitria Scott, I mean Lily, would sit together and talk on the bus. When we got off, she would be swarmed with people and I would walk to breakfast alone. Then I would eat a sloppy mess of goo, go to homeroom, and daydream for fifteen minutes. First period, gym, wasn't my favorite. I usually get a good grade in gym, considering my gymnastic background, but I have that period with Dakotah Pierce and Jackson Holloway, the girl who has tormented me since the first grade and the guy I am in love with, who just happened to be dating. Then I had advanced chorus with Lily, the only class we had that we could talk in semi-peace. Third period was Language arts, lunch with Chase Compton, Kori Blaire, Malyssa Arnold, Max McFarley, Wesley Morgan, and Skylar Blue, which were my friends, Dakotah and Jackson, Lily and her groupies (Anslie Jefferson, Renee Reynolds.) and the best teacher in the world, Mr. Taylor. I could've been in an advanced class for Language Arts, but I said no. Next was advanced science with Lily, girl Max and Dakotah. Then there was fifth period, normal math/torture with Jackson and Chase then advanced social studies with Kori and Malyssa. I knew I would sit at the very last seat at the lunch table with Skylar, the guy who is openly in love with me, Wesley, the short kid who lives in my neighborhood, Max, the gothic girl, and Kori and Chase and my other friend, Malyssa. After I got home I would do my homework, practice gymnastics, and then go to Sara or Nicole or maybe Sharon's house.
As I started thinking about my life, my eyes started to droop. I yawned, finally tired. Even as I fell asleep, I couldn't deny that this year would be bad.
Glints of silver and red dash before my eyes, and I know I can't hang on much longer. These things, they're too powerful. The only way to live is to kill her, and I can't. Only the Chosen One could.
Suddenly, the beasts drop dead. It's over. It's finally over. She's dead. I race to the rock, where I know they'll all be celebrating. I reach the rock, and my eyes meet a body, with a big bloody wound in his heart. My nose catches the scent and my eyes locate his face. Suddenly, it all clicks.
The world recedes, and then it's just me looking into the eyes of the dead man I love.
"Time to wake up, Munchkin. Don't want to be late the first day, do we?" My dad's voice drags my away from my restless sleep.
"I don't see how it'll make much difference." I mutter into my pillow. My dad is right, though. Don't want to humiliate myself more than I already will. The smell of pancakes is what rouses me out of my slumber. I think back to five in the morning, when I woke up screaming and my dad had to calm me down. For some reason, I couldn't remember what the nightmare was about, and my dad knows better than to ask.
"Bus or car?" My dad asks me.
"Who's car?" I ask.
"Yours." He says with a nod of his head.
"Bus. Definitely bus." I say with a nod of my head. I have a license, but I rarely need it. Three days after getting my learner's, my dad bought me a cherry red convertible that I've only driven once. It's pretty, but I hate it. To attention-seeking. Lily always nags me about using it, because she loves it way more than I do, and now it just sits in my garage with a full tank of gas, unscathed tires, and not a chip, dent, or scratch in the red paint. As I walk out the door with a mouthful of pancakes, I internally moan about today. Even though I've prepared for it all summer, I know I'll be made fun of. Today's outfit was carefully picked. A hot pink t-shirt from Hollister, a tank top and some brand new skinny jeans from Aeropostale, hot pink ankle socks, brand new midnight black vans with perfect white shoelaces, done up the way the popular kids do them, and a mustache-themed belt that was a birthday gift from Lily. My long, glossy, dark brown hair is straightened so it falls to my waist, my lips applied with a light coat of lip-gloss, and my ocean blue eyes now framed with a thick, dark layer of eyelashes, thanks to the help of a little mascara.
I stare at the tips or my vans as I wait for the bus. Couldn't it hurry up? This binder is getting heavy, my jacket is in my bag and I can't get it out without sitting down, which is I'm not going to do because the ground is wet.
Finally the bus arrives, and I step on. I'm usually the first kid on the bus, because my stop is the first stop on the bus route. Today, only one other kid in my grade gets on the bus from my stop, and that kid is Wesley.
"Hey, Lyd." He greets me.
"Hey, Wes." I respond.
"You're Lydia Crisbrooke, right?" The bus driver asks. "And you're Wesley Morgan?"
Yeah, that's us. What's your name?" I ask the bus driver.
"I'm Mrs. Misty." She says. "Here, take these and bring em' back tomorrow. They'll need to be filled out and signed by your parent or guardian" Mrs. Misty says this as she holds out two slips of paper. I grab mine and head for my usual spot on the bus, the second to last seat. I throw my bag and binder on the little brown platform at the back of the bus. Aside from the noisy chatter of the new ninth graders, the bus ride is pretty quiet.
As soon as North Cobb High School comes into view, the feeling I've been trying to ignore all summer starts creeping up on me. Fear. Fear of getting bullied, of getting humiliated in front of the whole school. Which I will, I'm sure. No more Demitria to save me now.
When I was younger, when Lily was still Demitria and life was so much simpler, I was happy. Although I was always a target for bullies, Demitria was like my shield. She was nice, and when she saw me being picked on, or anyone for that matter, she stood up for them. So, for most of elementary school, I was happy, because I had a best friend. My happiness was ruined, of course. When junior high rolled around the corner, not much changed. In the sixth grade, the only thing that differed was that half of the kids there wore eyeliner, including Demitria, who was Demi now. It was seventh grade that changed everything. The new boy from Texas, Tanner Holmes, moved into town. Demi was obsessed with him. "He's so mysterious, like my own personal Sherlock." Demi would say. Eventually, they started going out, and to this day he is her on again, off again boyfriend. I was officially left behind, exposed without my shield. Of course, I didn't stay exposed and helpless for long. Instead, I drowned myself in vocabulary, and every time someone said something mean, I fired back with a cunning remark that they probably didn't understand. When high school came, the state I was in stayed the same. I can't say that for everyone else, though. Demi became Lily and I was Lydia, like I'd always been. Maybe I should try a new name this year.
Since we met, Lily and I have had countless sleepovers and she's eaten at my house more than I can remember. We still hang out a ton, but it's usually at home. Never in public, though. She couldn't risk being seen with a "lame".
In my school, you were labeled one of four: lame, outcast, popular, or very popular. I was lame. People like Lily and Dakotah were very popular. People like a girl named Kimberly Rosato at my school, who ran around growling at people, was an outcast. People like Renee, head of the student council, were popular.
We were at school by the time I was through thinking about popularity. As I took the final step off of the bus, I waved by to Mrs. Misty and inhaled the familiar scent of my high school. It smelled like Tuna, sweat, pencil lead, and new clothes. And you can't forget about the stench of desperation.
Welcome back.