Tuesday, August 28, 2018

Hazel Sinclair

“Would it kill you to play nice?“ Megan huffed in a quiet sigh as I returned from the bathroom. She, of course, hadn’t really known what I’d gone there to do, but her blind faith did prove itself beneficial in situations like this. She didn’t need to know. “I mean, really, Hazel!” She groaned exasperatedly.

The two other people that had been sitting at Megan’s table spared me only half a glance before deciding to move elsewhere.

“I’m not here to make friends.” I flinched as someone across the room yelled just a little too loudly. When I looked back, my sister was glaring at me with a tired annoyance. “Don’t give me that look, Megan. I’m not in the mood for your lectures.” I put an elbow on the table and rested my head in my hand, massaging an ache in my temple with my thumb. This place was so incredibly loud, even when not full to capacity.

“I’m just saying, you need to talk to people that aren’t me. Or, you know,” She made an exclamatory motion with her hands towards me, and I could see the strain in her eyes; she disliked mentioning our upbringing almost as much as I did.

“Yes, Megan, you’ve made that very clear.” I lowered my voice and felt my lip curl into what I suppose must have looked close to a snarl. I had not so much been riled by the implications of the statement itself, but rather the reminder that my history had left a noticeable mark. Megan frowned but made no effort to continue that line of conversation. With a heavy sigh, she jabbed a thumb in the direction the two girls that had shown us to the cafeteria had walked off to.

“What’d you think of Ana and her friends?” Megan smiled in that oh so painfully angelic way. “You might get on well with her if you’d stop being so cold about it.”

“Socialization is a distraction and a nuisance; I have no need for them.” I felt a familiar twitching in my jaw, and I tried my best to stop it, knowing it was one of my more persistent tells. The attention in Megan’s eyes was a sign that she had noticed anyway. Her irritated glare caught mine and I rolled my eyes; she always took my temper so personally. “Yes, I’m annoyed, Megan. This place is loud and I am tired of being brooded upon like an injured animal.” Her stare softened by degrees, and her smile dulled around its edges. A familiar, sad sort of heaviness set in like a thick silt to the background of her countenance. “That! That is exactly what I—“ I cut myself off with a low growl, further irritated that Megan had again been able to get a rise out of me so easily.

“No, it’s okay. Annoyance is progress. Progress is good. This is good!” She hesitantly touched my shoulder, and when I didn’t snap at her despite an initial flinch, pat it affectionately, using her thumb to tease out the tension from my bicep. She straightened her posture and scooted forward in that way that made my ears prickle, the way that made me sure she was about to speak, but a loud crackling over the intercom caught both our attention first; it called us in someone’s piercing voice to make our way to the auditorium for more orientation business.

“You’re still alright with this, yeah?” Megan removed her hand and stood with a somewhat worried expression lingering on her face. I almost made a more bitter retort about this not having been my choice, but then figured Megan, as usual, would be more concerned with my feelings on the matter, rather than the logistics of the situation.

“Fine,” I muttered, speaking exasperatedly through my teeth.

“Great! Now, you never answered my question about Tatiana.” My sister perked up as soon as the conversation was not about my more important issues. I sighed and got to my feet.

“I did. You didn’t like the answer.” I steeled myself for another rant as we made our way towards the auditorium wing.

“You said you didn’t need them. Which I think is wrong, you absolutely need friends, and Ana might understand you better than a stranger.” Megan mused, but only irritated me just a little more.

“She’s not Academy.” I snapped. It was few and far between where something would wound me quite as much as Megan understating what differences there were between the schools. Moreover, there was the obvious fact that Tatiana was far more empathic; no, Tatiana could hardly begin to understand.

“Well, she’s not exactly human either, is she?” Megan lowered her voice to a whisper and spoke in our first language, though the change in wording did nothing to obscure the conspirative amusement in her tone.

“Drop it, Megan.” I finally growled, a quiet threat in my tone; though Megan knew, after some years of what I’d only describe as mothering, the worst I’d do was ignore her. By now, we were at the auditorium door, and I was desperately looking forward to her having to be quiet during a long, monotonous speech.

“How about her friends then? Ana is a great judge of character, so maybe you’d get on well with them? Better than trying your luck with complete strangers.” She pressed as I looked around for empty seats as far away from other people as they could be. I guessed the giggle in Megan’s words was because I was so clearly trying to avoid her.

“They don’t like me.” I snapped, deciding against making the statement about me, as Megan believed I was far easier to sway, or at least coerce. “And I wouldn’t care if they did, so would you please stop?” My voice had by then lowered to an angry growl, a deep rumble that stuck to the inside of my throat like tar. 

“Alright,” Megan’s voice eased to little more than a whisper, and I knew from her tone she would not allow me the last word. “But, just, I don’t know, think about it?” She tilted her head, smiling even in her eyes, trying to appear as unobtrusive as she could given her statement. I swallowed my displeasure and, with a stiff nod, claimed my seat from an empty row in the far back corner of the auditorium. Megan, as expected, sat next to me, and was perfectly quiet as the school’s principal called for attention and began the assembly.

. . . 

“Hello, everyone! Welcome to Newfond High School, it’s great to have you all joining us this year.” It had hardly been two sentences out of this girl, and her enthusiasm had already begun to grate on me. Megan seemed to have anticipated my irritation because she let out a quiet giggle and whispered a hushed relax, Zel without even looking in my direction. I huffed, though I did try to unclench at least my shoulders.

“My name is Holly Robinson; I’m the senior class president here, and I’ll be showing you around the school,” the girl continued, gesturing briefly to someone I recognized as of Tatiana’s friends; a bored girl standing passively off to one side, “this is Grace, she’s also going to be helping with the tour, so please feel free to ask her or me any questions we forget.” Holly addressed the some ten transfer students with unwavering, immensely irritating, cheeriness.

In my peripheral vision, I saw Megan wave enthusiastically at the brunette, who, with a conspicuous degree of effort, had been avoiding looking at us. Upon Megan’s provocation, Grace scowled but made a curt, polite gesture back. Her lips pursed when her eyes met mine, where they remained as Megan started talking.

“Look at her. You scared her.” She muttered, jabbing her elbow lightly into my side. My frown worsened, and I felt my jaw starting to tighten. Grace would not look away, so neither did I.

“Oh,” I replied with no effort made to convince her that I cared; I didn’t, and I couldn’t be bothered to fake it. Finally, the brunette looked away as the student president started to walk off.

Holly’s smile was unbearably saccharine as she began the tour, starting with the adjacent auditorium and performing arts classrooms. She droned on about the school’s many plays and concerts and how many trophies they had won, in such excited detail that I could not fathom how anyone could be so wholly infatuated with the happenings of a school. Megan, to absolutely no surprise, was utterly enraptured by it all; she adored the arts in a way I had simply given up trying to rationalize or understand.

The cafeteria was absolutely no better; the president summoned up such a volume of information about the nutritional constitution of meals alone that I lost the patience to pay any attention to whatever else she discussed. I did notice Tatiana’s friend sneak away for a moment to check out a nearby vending machine (she had cursed and grumbled to herself about subpar snacks, and I made note that Megan had giggled), but Holly was so preoccupied with her speech that she had clearly forgotten she had a co-host at all.

“You haven’t listened to a single word she’s said, have you?” Megan elbowed me lightly in the ribs. I grunted, for acknowledgment more than pain. “Come on, nutritionology is totally a science, right? You like science.”

“No, it’s not.” I pursed my lips, and Megan shrugged. “Why do you care?”

“About you or about what she’s saying?” She quirked an eyebrow in a teasing manner, yet there was an intangible something, vast and magnitudinous, in her eyes; it was like looking into the ocean, where you could not see the bottom, but some part of you knew it was dangerously deep. While I did not understand the meaning behind its depth, I had become familiar with the look of it. (Glassy, and somehow removed, albeit profound at once.)

“You know what I meant.”

“Angels and approval; you know how it is.” She chuckled mollifyingly. She turned quickly as she noticed Tatiana’s friend making her way back to the group, carrying some snacks, and clearly trying to make it past the two of us without spurring conversation. Unfortunately for her, I was sure she was soon to discover Megan’s annoying social affluence.

“Hi!” She stage-yelled at the girl, who failed at trying to hide her discomfort.

“Hey?” Grace put on an expression that barely qualified as a smile, especially next to Megan, and her eyes kept flickering to me. I couldn’t quite discern if her displeasure leaned more towards anger or irritation. She also looked deeply uncomfortable, which could not have been helped; as a defense mechanism, humans had grown to be innately uncomfortable around the Fallen. Megan, however, had not come to comprehend how deep the instinct ran, I think. I’d grown rather used to the effect.

“I didn’t know you were going to be helping with the transfers. You look about as bored as Hazel.” Megan made a gesture to Holly, who was now rambling on something about seniors being able to leave during lunch.

“Yeah, I didn’t realize I’d be with you two either,” Grace laughed softly, her eyes focused on me seemingly despite her best efforts. When she did look to Megan, who was still smiling as if she expected conversation, the girl made a tittering sound that just barely resembled a laugh. “Luck of the draw, I guess.”