Chapter 1
Ivor Cortell
“Stupid Chemistry…” I said as I fumbled with my paper, walking down one of the many hallways of Combing High. I grumbled to myself, wondering why the school was so big, considering the fact that there were only 200 kids attending. Then again, that’s how everything was here; here in deserted Slippery Rock, Pennsylvania.
“It couldn’t have been that bad!” A high pitch voice reassured. Letting out a sigh, I folded the paper and put it in the deep recesses of my bag before turning my attention to the dirty blonde haired girl walking beside me. “Perhaps you should just ask for help!”
As she said this, I threw my jacket onto my arms before pushing a strand of my hair from under my glasses and out of my eye. Curse the genetics of curly and frizzy hair. I made a mental note to remind my mother about how I hated her genes, but then I took it back; I liked my Gypsy heritage.
I just hated that I got the black frizz balls while my mother got the black, straight, flowing locks.
I returned to the conversation, “I don’t need any help…he just sucks at teaching.” I said. “I mean, really, a D? How did I get a D? There are freshmen in the class getting As and Bs; I’m a sophomore for goodness sakes!”
Rivet giggled, “I’m a freshman, and I do worse than you! I guess the real question is, who gave him a PHD in Chemistry?”
A grunt came from James’ mouth, and Rivet and I looked at the gothic seventeen year old beside us, who returned the looks with a raised eyebrow through straight black hair. “Stop complaining about Mr. Wells. He’s a great teacher.” Rivet complained.
“He is so mean though!” She said. Both James and I rolled our eyes as she began her daily complaint; “Do you remember the day he made me go to the office, Fatima? He sent me to the office because I was reapplying lipstick, Fatima…LIPSTICK, Fatima!” I let out a sigh as she continued to complain to me. James and I patiently waited, and she eventually died down.
“Next time you complain,” I reminded her as we walked from inside the school and out into the crisp autumn air, “try not to say my name too much.” Rivet had this problem of saying a person’s name a lot when she was talking to them. I didn’t mind too much, considering the fact that she only did it because she had a history of having people walk away in mid conversation. But then again, I understood the people…she never shut up. I guess that’s why we were friends though.
She was the annoying girl, James was the gothic boy and I was the chubby loser in the sweat pants and t-shirt.
A strong wind continued to blow by as we walked home. We stood closer to one another as we mumbled and complained about the cold breeze, but at the same time complimented the lovely colors of the leaves. It was days like these that I was glad I was where I was; I had two great friends that would admire the silence of nature with me after school—
Crap.
I stopped walking, cursing under my breath as I shook my head. James and Rivet asked what was wrong, and I gave a weary smile. “I just remembered…I was supposed to go to straight home today; my mom says someone is coming over or something.” I let out another short curse. “If Mr. Wells hadn’t kept me back for so long, I would have been fine, but now I’m already thirty minutes late!” James sighed, and turned his head to me as he parted his hair from over his right eye. “Well you’re wasting time right now. Take the short cut, and you’ll get there in five minutes.”
Ah James, so harsh but so logical.
I nodded, giving the two a small grin. “Right. Well, I’ll see you guys tomorrow.” I waved good bye before turning and sprinting down the street. Just who was this important person coming to see us anyway? And why did I have to meet them? Perhaps I was just complaining too much, but hey, everyone has their days, and today was mine. I turned into an alley way, still shuddering from the cold winds. At least the tall buildings I was between gave me a little break from the autumn weather—
Crack.
I spun my head around when I heard a noise, but quickly turned my head around again when I noticed the dark person standing behind me.
He wore a long black cloak with long black slacks underneath. His hat was black with a rimming of gold, and his shoes were the same. How he walked, though, did not match his style. He walked behind me with a swagger; not the kind of swagger that boys at my school walked, but a strange, almost drunk kind of swagger.
How had I not noticed this person until just now? It must have been the winds; I knew they were loud but it startled me to know that a person like this had been following me this whole time.
I continued to walk, and he did the same, as though he hadn’t been noticed. I shivered; his eyes were staring intensely into my back. Really, how did I NOT notice this?
I sighed lightly to myself; maybe I was over exaggerating. Maybe he was just passing through the alley, like me.
I turned the corner, taking a left, and the man quickly followed. I took another turn, and he was still behind me.
I guess he wasn’t just passing through the alley after all.
By now, I had sped up my walk, and I was nearly jogging. But the man had long legs, and he strode after me as if I hadn’t picked up the pace.
And wasn’t I just lucky; no one seemed to be outside today. There was no escaping this guy any other way—I had to run.
I held down my backpack straps as I began to sprint, and cursed my fat. Why did I eat that dessert last night?
I began to huff loudly as I looked back, seeing the man lightly jogging behind (I would call it a skip, but the man was too much of a creep to skip).
It was then when I noticed his deep sapphire blue eyes. And it was only a moment after when I wished I hadn’t.
I turned my head away, my voice cracking as my breathing became worse. I knew that I was a little over weight, but how was it possible that this man was barely jogging when I was sprinting as if my life depended on it?
“Leave me alone!” I sputtered as I saw my house in the distance. If I could just make it…my mom would be home, and the door would surely be open.
I felt a desperate grin crawl on my panting lips as I neared my house. I didn’t understand why the man behind me hadn’t caught me by now, but I wasn’t thinking about that right then; I was focusing on reaching my home; my safe, cozy, creeper-free home.
I grabbed the knob, turned it, and to my avail, it opened quickly. I threw myself inside, the door still open behind me. I took the time to breathe in the sweet, familiar scent of the floor before catching my breath. I turned my head up, though, and saw that the mysterious man was standing outside of the open doorway. I let out a scream, and my mother came rushing from the kitchen and into the hallway.
She dropped beside me, not even noticing the creeper. “Fatima! What is wrong? Why are you screaming on the floor?”
“T-this weirdo was following me!” I pointed to the man, who was now bowing his head so that his eyes were covered by his hat. My mother helped me stand quickly in silence, and I clung to her arms as she stared at the man. I waited for her to scream; something like ‘quick, go call the police!’ or, ‘Get away from my precious child!’
…but instead, she laughed.
That’s right. You heard me loud and clear. She burst into laughter, her large stomach bouncing as her already rosy cheeks gained more color. I stared at the man; did he have something funny on his face? But he only bent his hat down more with his hand as my mother walked up to him.
“Why, Fatima,” She said, her laughter lightening to a chuckle, “this man isn’t a creep! He’s our guest!” My mouth dropped as she said this, and I looked at the man as he pulled his hat off.
He gave me a crooked smile as he brushed a strand of curly black hair from his (now playful) sapphire eyes, and bowed his head towards me as my mother offered to take his coat. Seeing him clearly (you know, by NOT running), I noticed that he wasn’t a man at all; he was eighteen a the most.
It’s just that he was really tall, at least 6’3, and he was wearing a white button down shirt that tucked into his black slacks. He looked like some kind of professional; it was just his attitude that threw it off.
I sent a glare, not amused at the game this boy was playing, and walked over to my mom as he removed his gloves. “What do you mean, ‘he’s our guest?’ ” I asked. She blinked, and turned to me after hanging his jacket up.
“Oh that’s right, I forgot to tell you!” She giggled, “Silly me! Fatima darling, this is Mr. Cortell. He’s here to tell us about Edgar’s Unique Boarding School over dinner!”
I stared at my mother for a moment; my mouth dropped open and my glasses crooked to the left. “Did you just say boarding school?”
Mr. Cortell smiled. “I am a representative of Edgar’s Unique Boarding School.” I looked at him with a scowl, but he only seemed to get more excited about his presence being in mine. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Fatima. I am Ivor Cortell.”