They say that you should cherish your youth, for no day is like the other. I don’t know who said that, but whoever “they” is is only half correct. You should cherish your youth, sure, but I think the reason they said the second part was because they forgot about most of the days in their childhood. That I can forgive them for. Every day in school you aren’t going on a field trip, you probably won’t remember. I feel like that says a lot about our education system.
Back to the point. I would say that I’ve successfully fulfilled this prophecy given to me by the person known as “they”. Of course, I still have some time to go. I graduate this year. Who knows, though? Anything can happen in a few months.
Well, it sure can, but until this class ends, it won’t. Of course, there’s the chance that the class will never end. The clock seems to be ticking slower and slower as I watch Mr. Dunet talk. There’s no point in paying attention anymore. It’s all just a review, and there isn’t even a test coming up. I jot a couple of notes down anyway, turn the page, hold my pen over the paper so it looks like I’m working, and space out.
Past a couple classmates in my row, I see my friend, Fran. It’s great that we’re in the same class, especially since it's the last period, so we can go places after school when we’re both free. But of course, we share history with Mr. Dunet, the most boring subject with the dullest teacher at the sleepiest possible time.
We share a knowing glance, and I see her rip off a square of notebook paper to write a note. She passes it to the person next to her and points to me. They pass it along, and I’m about to open it, but apparently, we weren’t subtle enough.
“Celestine? Fran? Are you passing notes again?” The teacher turns from the lesson to address it. There’s no worth lying. The note’s still in my hands.
“Yes,” I answer.
“C’mon, the period’s almost over,” Fran says. “And we’re just reviewing stuff, anyway. We already took notes.” She holds up her notebook and flips through the pages to show that they’re all full.
He sighs. “By passing around messages, you distract others, who might not have. Would you care to tell us what was so important that you had to interrupt us?”
I open the note and read it aloud. “‘Do you have work today’. That’s it.”
“Well, as Fran said, class is almost over. You can ask then,” he says, turning back to the board. “As for now, just try to pay attention for three more minutes, and if you’re absolutely sure you understand it, feel free to zone out. Unobtrusively. Now where was I…” I catch eye contact with Fran, shake my head as a subtle reply, and follow Mr. Dunet’s advice. I lose track of time for a second, and finally, the bell rings.
“So, where do you wanna go?” Fran asks me in the hall.
“I heard there’s a pop-up stand at the café in the mall. Not sure for what, but I guess we might as well check it out,” I reply.
“Oooh, Donkey Mine?” A voice from behind us suddenly interjects. I nearly jump, but then realize a second later that it’s fine-it’s just our friend Antonio. “Hi,” he smiles, after successfully giving Fran a heart attack.
“Hey, Toni,” she says, relief evident in her voice. “Seriously, why do people call it that?”
“I dunno,” he shrugs. “I heard the admins say it once. Are you going?”
“Maybe. If I remember correctly, there’s a pop-up for something,” I respond. “We’ll have to actually go to figure out what.”
“Well, why don’t we?”
“Right now? My bag’s heavy, can’t we at least drop it off?” I agree with Antonio. Mr. Blanche might not have given out homework, but all of my other teachers sure did, and they all gave me a textbook the weight of a boulder to finish it. But in classic Fran fashion, she brushes it aside.
“C’mon, it’ll be good exercise. Let’s go.”
Even if I’m disappointingly still burdened by a heavy backpack, I’m not surprised. Ever since we met in eighth grade, Fran’s always been athletic, and she doesn’t really care that Antonio and I aren’t. Of course, it would be hard to guess based on how stylish she looks. Her grayish-cherry hair is long, usually done up in a tight bun, a couple strands over her pointy ears and framing her face. Even if she denies it, she’s usually wearing at least a little makeup, although usually subtle. If you’ve known her for as long as I have, it’s easy to tell- she never gets the same foundation, so her normally ivory skin can suddenly appear pinker at times when she’s trying a new kind. Her jacket, she’s had for years, and that’s not even her oldest piece of clothing. Her mandatory shawl is full of patches, all random patterns that she spent a lot of time arranging in such a way that you would think she picked them at random. That’s not the case at all, and to be honest, I’d only say half of the patches have actual holes under them.
On the other hand, Antonio. His hair is dark brown, and it can’t grow past his shoulders without becoming a spiky nuisance. Of course, it makes it extremely hard to do anything with it, so he refuses to let Fran cut her own so he can style it. His skin is light brown with random patches the color of his hair, and from a distance, you would mistake his dark eyes for one of them. He clips his hair away from his face with a pink barrette, leaving his usual smile on full display. Unlike Fran, he wears a different outfit each day, and his shawl usually gets replaced the day it turns a month old. Whenever we go to the mall, he usually walks away with something, and it’s all from the same section of the clothing shop-his style has stayed the same for years.
And then there’s me. My hair is a warm yellow, currently cornrowed into puffs behind my horns. I usually wear a lot of layers, but it gets really hot in my last classroom of the day, so the cream sweater I was wearing today -one of the many in my closet- is tied around my waist. It almost looks like a second capelet, although a much lighter color. Speaking of capelets, mine is getting a little old. It’s the color of pale sand, but it was once a tan brown. Luckily, we’re almost at the mall, so I can get a new one.
“Hey, Celly, look!” Antonio points to a poster on the wall. It’s an ad for the café, but two of my favorite superheroes, The Drill and Badger Boy, clinking two mugs together: one with coffee, one with tea. The Drill is strangely pointed at the wall behind us, a speech bubble reading, “Come meet me and Badger Boy at our pop-up at the Blocky Lime Café!”
“Wait, what? The pop-up’s for…” I trail off, but my grin seems to finish my sentence. My heavy backpack no longer feels like a burden as I break out into a run for the mall. It’s only around the corner, but I don’t care. The sooner I get there, the sooner I can get my hands on that new issue of TDBB that I’ve been looking for. Fran has no trouble catching up, but Antonio’s farther behind. Once I get into the mall, I immediately see the line trailing from the coffee shop, a few people wearing themed shirts and the like. I push past the small crowd to get in line. Waiting will already take forever with the length it’s at now, so I have to be as quick as possible. That’s when I realize how far behind my friends are.
“Cel! Wait up!” Fran calls to me, clearly a little annoyed. She’s still by the entrance, and I’m halfway across the floor. As I zip around to face her, I accidentally hit someone else.
“Hey, watch where you’re going!” Now I’ve got two people mad at me.
“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” I apologize, walking around them and towards my friends at a slower pace.
”Jeez, I didn’t realize you’d get that excited,” Antonio pants.
“Come on, you know me,” I smirk. “I’ll go hold our place in line. Clearly, you need to catch your breath.”
“Hey, don’t leave me behind!” Fran throws up her hands in a melodramatic annoyed gesture.
“Fine, fine.” I say, before quickly switching back to dash mode. “I’ll leave you both behind! It’s my revenge for you making us take our bags!” I turn around to her while jogging to flash a face full of mockery.
“For the love of the admins, Cel-”
“Celestine?”
That voice. It makes me stop in my tracks. I shift myself forward to look up. There, standing right in front of me are the admins.
The admins. The three deities of the Warren. Here. Now. And they’re looking for me.
On the left, there’s Lazer. He may look normal-ish now, aside from the ghostly presence, but he can become intangible at will. He only appears to the public a couple of times a week, and he’s probably built at least half of every big project.
On the right, there’s Pix. It sounds more normal than the names of the others, but they're the strangest and most mysterious of the trio. They’re the main playwright, and from what I can tell, they’ve written well over half the plays ever performed.
And in the middle, Otter. The one who called my name. The founder of the Warren. And with a magical set of controllable vines, the strongest of them all. He’s a part of most building projects, and even though the other two could handle things without her, society as a whole basically rests on his shoulders. They are a mythic individual and a force to be reckoned with.
I’m just standing there, stunned. I’ve only seen them a few in my entire life, and never all three at once. It takes a second for Pix to break the silence.
“You are Celestine Alegre, correct?” Even though one of their eyes is hidden with an eyepatch, the other one holds the pierce of thousands. I quickly nod.
“Yeah, that would be me,” I say. Come on, Celly, play it cool, play it cool…
“Well then. The three of us have made a big decision regarding you,” Lazer speaks, the noise reverberating through the skull that either is his face or has swallowed it entirely. I take a second to swivel around. All eyes are on me, although none are quite as astounded as those of my friends. Fran looks surprised, although she seems to be hiding her shock well. Antonio, on the other hand, stands there, eyes wide and mouth agape.
“So, uh, what would that be…?” Otter exchanges a glance with the other two before breaking out into a beam and speaking.
“Congratulations, Celestine. You’re going to captain training.”
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