Yin-Yang Series: Surviving Highschool & Dragons

[Rain]

Once again, there I was. Seating on a seat. A really, really crappy, cheap, fake leather seat. God I hate being on the bus. I tried getting burried into my Artemis Fowl book again, but quickly gave up on it. I know those books are pretty childish, especially for a 16-year-old. But I think they're funny. However much lil' Arty tries, his feelings always irrationalize his desicions. And if he does follow logic, he feels guilty about it.
It was almost as Eoin Colfer was tring to teach me not to let the soft feelings show. And I knew this lesson even before starting this silly series. Fear, grief, worry, disgust, mercy, not even happiness. I didn't let any of these little feelings show.(Well, maybe not disgust, 'cause I really do find some people gross in their own little way). For a young, cheery person to pull this off would prove an impossible feat. Until I came along. Dark clothes and a badass attitude, with guts to back it up of course, was all I needed.
I remember when I was a kid, still a little 6-year-old. I used to feel like nothing could stop me. Not even the fact that my stepmom was a drunk that loved to get high on meth. I didn't realize it then, but now I can put two and two together.
I was fast and stealthy, my skinny form and long legs making me move faster than any kid on the block. It was an awesome feeling. Or being curious about everything: What made glass? How'd they make TV's work? Why use money when you could just trade stuff? That's only some of the questions, but I don't want to go and recite my whole head.
Avira O'Reily used to be one bright kid, energetic and spritely. She got honor roll in every grade, and would practically cry when she didn't get something right, then go back and figure it out herself instead of asking for guidance. Her parents loved her dearly, and her pet Molly seemed to be the best teddy bear she had when she felt lonely or sad or had some bad dream.
Now she was close to being a dumbass dropout, expelled from school, forbidden to get a chance for a real life. A good life. She was failing every grade, in ISS or OSS(Out-Of-School Suspenison) every other day, bullied by almost every other kid she knew, and growing even more distant with her mother, father, and step mom alike. (Not that I actually like Marian anyway.)
She grew in to sleeping problems, put on some bulk (the type that might make her look menacing), and the bright, cunning look in her icy steel gray eyes faded, only to come back when she stole.
Okay, so now you know a little bit about me. And as you can figure, I'm a loner. Alright fine, let's not sugar coat it. I'm a loser, plain and simple. They treat me like I'm some sort of freak, because I wear boyish clothes and I somewhat resemble Frakenstein's creation. I tend to keep to myself, unless someone does try to challenge me. Then I move into action.
Hense this new attitude and wardrobe, along with my own words of wisdom that don't really go beyond this: Trust No One.
Great thoughts for a ninth grader, eh? Especially when she's supposed to be in eleventh.
I sighed and looked up to see that the bus was nearing my home. Great. Home. I frowned bitterly. 1 nice, rundown apartment with peeling, white walls, leaky faucets, and a slight roden issue.
But I had to struggle to keep back a slight smile. My mom would be home, trying to find something to cook, something from the food pantry that could actually be put to use. She didn't care about my grades, how I looked. She loved me no matter what, and I knew it. As long as I was healthy and not crying, she didn't show the slightest sign of shame or misery, dispite her only daughter's awful reputation.
I stood from my seat, grabbing the back of the false leather bus seat in front of me for leverage as the yellow automobile began to brake. I stepped forward into the aisle, refusing to meet any of the eyes staring up at me as I glided down the bus like water sliding over ice. By the time the driver had the door open, I managed to half grunt, half mutter, an empty "Thanks." and jumped down the three stars onto solid ground.
Well, it might not have been necessary, but I still rose up my right hand and put up my favorite finger, teaching my peers a bit of sign language.

As I was saying, we're pretty poor. Now more than ever since my Daddy'o left my mom. He was an architect or something. I don't know exactly, it's been four years since I've seen him, and I don't care if I live the rest of my life without seeing him.
See, he decided my mom wasn't worth the trouble. Decided life and a family based on love and trust just wasn't for him. He left me when I was 5, a month before my sixth birthday. (What a B-Day present, eh?) My mom had just gotten over from being in the hospital with a broken arm and was still recovering. I can't remember how it broke, but it was something big. Maybe I have Post-Traumatic Stress or something.
Anyway, he joined up with some tramp blondie and had a couple of rowdy, rough boys, tossing me and Old Ma aside. We were old news.
Me? I'm not too thrilled he left. I could've used a father to help me learn to fight better, some new tactics. But I don't let it get to me. It's not like I have abadonment issues. Depression doesn't and didn't occur, not about him. Not until the dreams came about, and I wake up a dozen times a night. It's annoying, yes, but it scares me to death.
One time, I woke up holding my throat, as if some one were choking me to death. (Actually, I have a lot of dreams like that) I think I fight in my sleep since I wake up with big bruises and nasty cuts. In my nightmares, I fight a lot. I mean, a lot. And just when I'm about to find out whether I win or loose, I wake up in my bed, in a cold sweat gasping for air to fill my empty lungs.
I love my nose. It's not my best sense, but it works. It's almost as bad as my ears, really. Maybe some kid damaged it in a fight or something, but now I kind of toss my sense of smell right out the window. Regardless, I could pick up the mouthwatering scent of my mom's meathloaf. Garic, parsley, basil, possibly some salt, and definately bread crumbs. Okay, so maybe my nose isn't that bad.
Then it hit me. My mom.
What was I going to tell her? I know Mrs. Johnson had made an extra effort to make sure she called my mom. She knew. I was an eyelash's length away from being expelled from Wilson High. Then I'd have no where to go, and I'd bring Mom down with me.
I lost my appetite as soon as I hit the door. Grimfaced and shaken, I took a really, really deep breathe and forced myself to wrap my trembling fingers around the ice-cold metal of the door knob and gripped it hard, trying to anchor myself back to Earth.
Alright, I'll stop here for a second. Let's get things straight, shall we? I may sound like some drama queen trying to make everyone feel sorry for her, but that's only because you've only heard about my life. You've never actually experienced it. You've never had to do the things I did. You have no right to judge.
Like I was saying, I opened the door and stepped inside. It was a lot warmer in my small little home, so it made my chilled fingers, ears, and nose burn quite a bit. You know, like putting a cold foot into warm water. With a back pack strung upon my shoulders, I finally realized how drained I felt, and how tired my limbs and eyelids were. School always tired me out. It was mostly due to the dumbest lessons ever that bored you out of your mind and left you absolutely exhausted. Every fricken day.
So I slipped my bag off and let it hit the cheaply-tiled floor like a deadweight, giving up my chance for stealth. Stupid me. Mom would know I'm home now.

"Avira?"

Hey, what do you know? Am I good or what?
I sighed, feeling even worse. My mom was just getting over the flu, but she refused to leave work. So she sounded just and exhausted as I was, but slightly worse.

"Hey Mom." I called to her, coming out slightly louder than a whisper. I tried to conceil the guilt from my voice, not ready to tell her the bad news. Not yet. I didn't need to worry her, she had enough problems on her plate already.
But if she was worried, she didn't show it. Not the slightest bit. (She never does.) "How was school?"

Yep. Same old mom.

"Great." I said, sounding a little enthusiastic. I should be an actor when I grow up.
"Good. Dinner's almost done, I hope you're hungry. Can you set the table for me, please?" she asked, leaning her head from behind a wall in the kitchen so she could see me, a wide smile on her smooth cheeks, hazel eyes glistening with pain and happiness. What a horrible combination.
"Sure, no prob." I answered.
Steam billowed, shuffling followed, and I could guess mom was pulling out dinner from the old oven we had to call our own. Or, rather, the landlord's own.
I pulled out some plastic plates and cups from a book case on the east wall, only two of each and plain in color, and put them down on the table. The ply wood one, with two stools on either side. I took out some silver ware from a drawer in the book case and put a fork and knife down by each plate, a pair for both of us. They gleamed in the dim light, and I was happy that even this metal could gleam like ice. Not everything had to be precious to be seen as precious.
As I headed to my own stool, I watched as a great mass of fur stalked under the table. A Bobcat. A big brown one, with fine soft fur with not a single marking on its coat. Well, except the ankle collars it's black stripe made, and the neat little pattern on its neck. I can't really explain it, I'd have to show you a picture. It hissed as it probably went to get its own dinner, in this rodent-infested house, it couldn't be hard.
"Molly, knock it off." I scolded her, chasing her away by threatening her with my worn out sneakers. I wasn't exactly keen on hearing squealing noises while I ate. Just like I wasn't keen on throwing up on the table.
My mom has this uncanny sense of timing, she can come in at the right moment any time she wished to. And sometimes, even when she didn't want to. It was amazing, and it still is. I wonder if all mom's have that sixth sense. You'll have to get back to me on that one.
As soon as the two plates were set down, and the silverware sat beside the dishes, Mom was catering out our meal. She popped into the room, carrying a cuttingboard of sliced meatloaf and peeled, baked potatoes. Yum.
"Hungry?" she repeated, a faint smile on her face. I guess she just had to make sure that I actually was hungry.
I stared up at her, hiding my confusion. See, before I was ready to shovel a whole cow down my throat and then go for seconds, possibly top it all off with a big glass of milk. But that was earlier, now I wasn't sure if I wanted anything to warm up my cold belly. I didn't know how to answer. But years of lying automatically did.
"You bet." I replied, not even thinking.
She smiled a little wider and put the hot tray of food down on our plywood table, right in front of me as she sat down in her own chair, getting comfortable. "Good."
I followed her pristine example and sat my butt right down at the table, on my own plastic lawn chair and pushing my chair in. I sat up straight, just as she'd taught me to and bowed my head, closing my eyes as I left my hands in my lap. I wated for a nice little prayer to start.
Mom was real religous. She believed in God, Jeseus, the whole nine yards. Well, nine and half when we're talking about my mom. She takes the Bible as her personal history textbook, as if the whole thing was real. It's my belief that if she read that Moses had jumped off a cliff, she'd do the same. Without a parachute, mind you. She always prays before meals, before bed, and whenever else she feels it necessary. Even when she claims she feels "lost". If I prayed when I felt lost, I'd be praying 24/7.
She never lost faith, not even when we've sank past rock bottom. The worse things get, the more she prays. I really do think its sad. I want to go up to her and scream in her ear, "God's got nothing to do with this!", but she'd probably just smile at me and pray for me. I never told her I didn't believe in God, because I thought she might actually kill me if I did. (But then again, maybe not since it's against the Ten Commandments.)
So, I waited, and waited. But I got nothing but silence in return. What gives?
I peeked open an eye to look at my mom, only to meet those hazel eyes, feeling them claw against my skin. Is she telepathic too? God, she scares me.
I almost jumped back as she contined to stare at me, evilly. Like I did something wrong. I met her gaze, looking on with confusion.
I finally gave in. "What?" I cried out, so lost at the moment. Should I pray? Nah, I'll pass. Come back next week.
"You know better than to have your headphones at the table, young lady. It's rude and disrespectful." she growled at me, her eyes narrowing and eyebrows furrowing.
That's when I realized how her voice was muffled and my ears felt all stuffed up and sweaty. Duh! My earphones! I still had my MP3 player going, as it played California Dani by Red Hot Chilli Peppers. (Good song if you have no clue what I'm talking about. YouTube it.) I yanked out the black cord, cold air hitting my ears and my throat started itching. I ignored it and fumbled to shove my electronic deep into my hoodie pocket, shutting the little machine off in the process.
"That's better." she closed her eyes and bowed her eyes, I knew enough to do the same.
Then, I did my best to trying to block out the noise my mother was about to make.
"Dear Lord our savior, we thank you for the beautiful feast you have blessed us with. And we thank you for all the blessings to come, Amen."
"Amen." I played along, just as I always had. Then, it was time to eat. But I still wasn't hungry, my belly seemed cluttered and nauscious. I was reluctant to eat. Very reluctant.
My mom, on the other hand, had no trouble getting her mouth full. She picked up the fork with such fast reflexes, she made Spider-Man look like he had down syndrome. Meat went flying at the speed of light into her mouth and potatoes weren't far behind. She was already going for seconds by the time I had hesitantly picked up my fork. You'd be surprised to know that she was as thin as a toothpick, thinner probably.
I shoveled my food around, trying to have a little fun, though I failed miserabley. I held my chin up, my back straight against the chair, desperate not to look miserable. I even forced a couple of potatoes down every few minutes. Time seemed to be going in slow-mo though.
"What's wrong?" Mom picks up negativity pretty damn quick. Try her, just don't be surprised when not even a second goes by that she asks you this very same question.
"Nothing." I answered quickly, looking down at my plate. God, this sucks.
But she didn't pressure me.
Five long, boring minutes dragged on ever so slowly before I got bored enough to hear my cellphone buzzing. I was somewhat shocked, yet again, since it was one silent. Yet I knew I had a message. Don't ask me how, but if I was bored enough, I could hear a mouse nibbling on pudding a hundred yards away. No lie.
I pulled out my handy dandy cellphone and slid the keyboard out, the phone instantly coming to life with light. A screen popped up and told me I had a new message. I took no hesitation in opening it. My day couldn't get worse.
Cat's Den at 7. See you there.
My jaw practically dropped and I looked at my watch. 6:50. I could still make it if I hauled ass. I didn't want to leave Colt waiting.
As I looked up, I saw Mom looking down at me and knew she had caught the urgency in my own gaze. I guess. I couldn't bear to let a second at the Cat's Den slip away. Hell no, not my haven. It was my only sanctuary, the one my mom had no clue about it.
"Going somewhere?"
I was shuffling through my dishes, not even knowing, piling everything up so I could bring it out to the sink.
"Budd y of mine is going to help me with some tricky Algebra. Really important I get this stuff down." I lied, still putting things away, but no intentionally.
"Constantine?"
As I looked at her, I could see the big grin on her face as she crossed her arms over her chest, and the room seemed to warm up ten degrees. I hope I wasn't blushing. I had no reason to.
"Yeah, he's helpin' me out. Can I go?"
Now she was hesistant, keeping her smile as I waited for her answer.
"Please?" I pushed.
She nodded and I could have hugged her. Yes! Cat's Den! "Go on. I'll leave the door unlocked for when you get back."
"Thanks Ma." I gave her a quick, gentle pat on the shoulder and headed back out of the house, leaving my backpack by the door. So much for homework. Like I was gonna do it anyway! Ha!
It was pretty damn cold out tonight, even for winter. Snow was caked on the ground eight inches thick, trying to infiltrate my sneakers with icy slush each step I took. Every tree I passed was bare, its limbs sticking out like dried up, shriveled arms, long past their expiration dates. Even the pine trees seemed to have lost their green spirit in the frigid cold. I didn't blame them. Besides the fact that snow was everywhere, the sky ceased to let anything else fall. It was snow, snow, snow. No hail, no rain, just snow. It was really, really, boring. Skies must be saving all the crap for later, so that they still had a way to make our lives miserable. Possibly for a day I was actually beginning to enjoy.
Now, for someone in a thin hoodie four years old like me, its pretty easy to say you'll freeze your ass off. Two blocks in the winter makes twenty miles in the summer look like a fun walk in the park, one with italian ice and dogs chasing frisbees. But I didn't care, not much. I didn't really have to take notice until the last ten, twenty yards to the Cat's Den.
Shaking off the cold was probably the hardest task.
Glancing up at the old, run down building, I grinned. This was why I was here. This dump, so to speak, had become a second home to me, somewhere I could gather my thoughts and pull myself together. Anything was possibly at the Cat's Den.
Placing a hand on the wall, I ran my fingers down the white, chipping paint that had become coated with ivy (Now dead.) and some spots of rotted mold that I had become so familiar with. I pushed when I felt a single crack in the wall, a vertical one. A secret entrance, Colt himself had installed, opened up and gave me access to my underground heaven. I crouched slightly, so I could move through the three foot tall space and into the dark of the abandoned bakery.
Old cash registers, broken, cracked display cases, and really, really old furniture littered the ground, broken pieces of glass and wood filled every other bare spot of the floor. Maroon used to color the walls and snowy white claimed the trimmings, but it was so faded the maroon looked like a soft pastel pink and the white, well, you couldn't fade white. When the place was open, I could guess it was beautiful. Especially the cherry wood floors, I loved their dark, rich colors. It's too dull to know what I'm talking about now, but still, you wouldn't believe it.
I already cracked open the register, and boy did that $250 help. (Oh yeah, I forgot to mention on pretty big on thieving, so watch out.) One time I came in here, when it was all abandoned, and I smashed in the display case with kicks and various punches. Took me a while to calm down. I forgot what really ticked me off that time, but I get that way when something really pisses me off. So it's probably a good thing I'm in here today.
Besides the fact that glass littered the floor, I silently moved over to the display case and pushed it out of the way.
Yet another opening showed itslef, along with a long coil of rope snaking down to the dark abyss below. A dim light shone, hitting the stone formation and making the light turn a murky brown. Musky smells came and bit at my nose, but instead of recoiling, I leaned in and inhaled. Yup. Cat's Den.
Grasping the rope in my hands, I took one last breah of the surface world. Here, I'll even name what I smelled: sewer, dumpsters, car exhaustion, and even some gun power. One of the homeboys must have gotten on someone's bad side. Here in this city, we've got a few gangs. But hey, who cares right? I can tell you the cops sure as hell don't.
So I tightened my grip and wrapped my legs around the long snake of rope and slid down into the dimlit darkness. it wasn't hard, I mean the first time it was torture. But, as they say, practice makes perfect. Eventually, it became as easy as climbing down a flight of stairs. Easier, even.
As soon as I felt moist soil underneath my feet, I let go. I was safe, on solid ground. Ilooked up and saw the small opening from which I came, now about twenty feet above me. Hense the need for a rope. Stifling a sigh, I ignored the fact that anyone that could find our secret entrance (The one I had carefully replaced after entering) could easily find this and get a little curious. And then I could kiss this place away. They'd discover my secret home. My personal sanctuary. it was not a happy thought.
"I know, I'm not sure what to do about it."
I didn't even jump. I knew who it was. Voice as smooth as honey, yet strong and full of humor. Yeah, I knew who that prick was.
I didn't turn yet, but replied to him anyway as I continued to look up at the hole in the ceiling. "Stop doing that Colt, you freak me out when you do that."
I couldn't help but grin though, there's my buddyboy. My good ol' pal, my right hand.
Turning around, I met his gaze. Momentarily freezing, I blamed it on the cold frost in the air and kept moving. Unfortunately, he was still staring. And laughing. He was laughing pretty hard, actually. He had some sense of humor, that guy. Time I ended it.
"Yeah, yeah, funny boy. Why don't you shut up and keep those moss eyes of your on the pole. You gotta bite." I broke up his party.
That made him jump and he whipped around to see his pole whipping around, the tip twitching and flicking. I would've laughed harder if he or the pole fell in the water. They didnt' though, so I was just chuckling. But it was funny anyway. That bite of his was still jerking his grip about though, and he was struggling. I hoped it didn't take his pole. Because then I'd have to share mine, and sharing wasn't exactly my thing.
Oh yeah, because you're probably confused out of your head, I guess I'll explain. Just so you know what my, our, Cat's Den looks like.
For starters, lush green grass layers the dirt ground, making it soft. No dew down here, so no worries about getting wet. When we were a few years younger, before Colt quit stealing, he snatched a couple dozen bags of Kentucky blue grass seed or something like that. He covered the dirt with the seed and watered it, every day. After two weeks or so, we got a lawn. Nice addition, ain't it?
It's a really, really big basement. Like three hundred feet by three hundred feet. Something like that, I could be underestimated, I could be exaggerating it. I'll never go and actually find out how big it really is. All stone foundation, the walls lined with thick rock that looks like Limestone to me. Once again, I could be wrong. I think they insulate the place, because it never gets too cold, not even now. A slight chill, but nothing more. No columns to hold the building up. Guess they had really good architects or something to build the place.
Over in the front, there's a small pond. Don't ask me how it got there, I just keep telling myself it's from flooded rainwater, not sewage. Something must've dug into it since it's like thirty feet deep. I tried finding the bottom, but I couldn't.
And that's why we have these lovely fishing poles. We saw life, fish jumping, lilly pads growing. It's really cool. Niether Colt or I know how it happened, but we don't care. I, at least, am just happy its here.
Moss grows occasionally, but not much. It's too dry down here for a lot of the stuff. So no, we have no wierd, funky mushrooms to "look at the pretty colors". If it's one thing I don't do, its drugs.
At the side of the pond, me and buddy boy managed to drag down these two tree stumps, big enough for seats. They're really warm and comfy. He put this sealment stuff on it so no bug decides its more snug than a rug or something. And it no longer rots, it's water proof.
I noticed a few times that water voles hang around here, which brings some feline visitors. They're all thin and skinny, but some are fit and beautiful. I give them whatever fish I catch. They could use it more than me. Sometimes the cats, feral or stray, come up to us, curious. They let me pet them for a few minutes, but they always wander off again. They always get spooked. I think its because I'm human, and wild cats don't hang with humans. Like they're breaking some anciet rule or something. I don't mind.
I sat beside the water, on my stump, and rubbed my chilled hands together above a small flame I'm assuming Colt had set up. It wasn't big, but it wasn't smoky, which was convienent. I loved it. It was so warm and soothing, but I was never too comfortable around fire, so I didn't get too close. Although I do wish I grabbed some marshmellows or something of the sort. Throwing them at Colt is fun, but I guess S'mores are cool too.
O glanced over at him, watching as he fought hard with the fish on the other end of the line. He seemed to be having a tough time and I was weighing my options, for what I could do. How I could respond to the current situation.
Help him out
Stay at the fire and warm up
Push him in and have a good laugh
Throw in my own pole and show this sonuvagun how to catch the monsters
For the few moments I sat there debating what to do, he had hauled in his quarry.
"Are you kidding me?" I heard Colt whine, and I looked up from the hot flames.
An old leather boot hung drooping from the string on his pole, and I nearly fell onto my ass laughing. "Hey! I think its your size!" I laughed at him.
He glared at me, his emerald eyes pinned on me. "Shut up!" he said pathetically.
I laughed a bit more, relishing the moment. "Make me." I stuck my tongue out at him, teasing the crap out of him.
"I will!" he growled back at me, smiling somewhat sheepishly.
"I'd like to see you try." I taunted, leaning toward him, calling him out, egging him on. I'm such a little instigator.
Grumbling, he turned away and unhooked the useless shoe, drenched in water. I decided to follow suit and catch something worthy of being called a fish. I picked up the light pole I had for myself. Bringing it back, I pushed down on the line and swung it forward, letting go of the line as it soared through the air and landed neatly near the eastern side, right against a crowd of lillypads. I let my pole sit on the ground, so I could lean on my knees and stare into the water, loosing myself again. I was lost in thought.
I'm gonna get expelled. I'm gonna get expelled and then me and Ma will have to move again. She'll have to find some other job at a crummy Burger King or something, and then I'll have to do the same. I'm sixteen, old enough to quit school. But Mom doesn't want me to. She wants me in a school, she wants me to have a better life....
Oh who the hell cares? I'm moving and I won't be able to see Cat's Den, I won't be hanging with Colt, and I'll be forced to find some other friend. Which, of course, I doubt will happen. I stifled a sigh. God my life sucks.
"What's wrong?"
Snapping out of my head, I looked up to see Colt staring at me as if I head three heads or something. "Huh?" I said briliantly.
"You're biting your thumb. What's up?" he replied.
I looked down slightly without moving my head to see I actually was biting down on my thumb, a dumb habit I can't grow out of. I let go of my finger and saw the dark purplish-red line pressed against my skin. Only a few seconds more and I might have broken skin, which has happened before. I swore under my breath, practicing my colorful dictionary of vocab, and looked up innocently at Colt.
Short stings of pain pulsed through my thumb to the base of my hand. Isn't it amazing how little boo-boos hurt so much, but a broken leg barely makes you blink?
"Well?" Someone was loosing their patience.
I paused and looked down at the pond, its surface looking glassy and crystalline. So pretty. I finally sighed and decided to man up. Or Wo-Man up in my case, I guess. I met his gaze, with an even feeling that I could pull this off. I could tell him what was going on, just like I usually did. And that I wouldn't totally loose it when he found out I was about a whisker's length from getting my sorry ass kicked out. Because really, let's face it, Colt was too good at picking my lies out. He was like this ultra brand of lie dectors. He was the Brawny paper towl version of mind readers. I think it would be awesome if I could read minds. Do you realize how many tests I would ace?
So, I spoke up. "I got in another fight today." I smiled sheepishly. I held up my arm and pulled back my shirt sleeve to show a fierce greenish bruise, still in the process of forming. "Pretty, ain't it?" I grinned.
He crossed his arms, not convinced. "Come on, tell me." See what I mean about that mind reader thing?
I sighed again, looking down at the grass, then forcing myself to meet his emerald glare, shining furiously. "Alright fine. Mr. Roy told me he was gonna expell me if I got in trouble again." I felt my eyebrows furrow, so ticked. It was like opening a freshly healed scar. And believe me, I've done that before. Not fun.
Me? I didn't wanna look up at Colt, so I kept my eyes on the pond, kept looking at the murky water, imagining how good it would feel to be in the cool depths right now. Instead of here, instead of imagining how pissed, sad, shocked, or dissapointed he was. Or all four. I hated it so much.
Of course, it all took a little time to digest. Even back in the school, as I walked down to the lockers, hitting each one as I neared mine, I had a little bit of fury to work off before I really go what it meant. I was on a short leash, too short for my likings.
Eventually he sighed, sounding way too much like Mr. Roy. He didn't have a laptop with him, did he?
"This ain't good, Vixen. Not cool. Not at all. Your mom know yet?" he asked, curiously looking at me with his depressing gaze. Man, what a mixture of feelings. Made me wonder what I was feeling in all this, and I still can't come up with an answer.
I shut my eyes, fantasizing myself opening my eyes only to find this ancient old guy, hundreds of years way too old, giving me my daily dose of Words of Wisdom. Not cool. So not cool. But, I was almost jealous of him. He was so smart, he was always at the ready. Colt always knew what to do, loads smarter than I could ever be. What was my IQ? Probably in the negatives. Him? Oh, only in the two-hundreds. And I'm not kidding about that. He really was a braniac. He just never told anyone. No one but me.
But, being the idiot I was, I looked up at him, feeling so much agony. "How can I?" Let's think about this now. I'm already the worst kid she could possibly be stuck with. "I can't bring myself to tell her."
I thought I felt a bit of mist in my eyes, but I was probably just imagining it. I hadn't cried since I was a little itty bitty six year old.
"Fine. Just don't do anything stupid, got it?" he looked at me, meeting my eyes, eagerly searching me for the truth. Creep.
I nodded dumbly, though. I was too numb to do anything else, I felt so lost.
"Use your head. It's the only thing you've got going for you, Vixen. If you get too ticked off, count to ten and think of your happy place. No more free passes, one more slip and your gone. For good."
I looked back down at the water, holding my pole loosely in my right hand, just so I can feel vibrations. That's my fisherman instinct going on auto-pilot. Silence was probably the best thing I could wish for right now, and I was thankful to recieve it. But it tricked me, denied me one wee wish. Guess Colt didn't like silence as much as I did.
"Avira." his voice was now pretty dark, really serious. So I looked up at him, like a little kid would when their dad yelled at them, automatically finding that angry gaze even they didn't want to.
"Do you understand? Like really comprehend this?" his jaws was set and I could see he wasn't a happy camper. How could he be pissed at something that didn't even involve him? It kind of made me mad, actually. But his gaze was like two gleaming stones, and they froze my spirit, melting my ferocity. It scared me more than anything in the world. Ever.
"Yeah. I hear ya." I murmured, feeling the strength in my voice drain. My spirits were loosing altitude like a dive-bombing falcon that forgot how to swoop back up at the most vital moment.


ooc: Have decided to write this thing down by chapters, rather by writing a bit copy+paste it. It just seems more orderly to me.

[Doc Oc]

.....This is like, awesome. :D

[Rain]

xD. Thanks. I try, ya know?

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