Chapter One, Part Five.

Back in my own territory, I sat at a table by myself. Staring out at the courtyard, I doodled absentmindedly on a notebook. When I think about it, I realize how different my sister and I are. She's so calm, and sweet to everyone. She never has a hidden agenda, and is usually so happy, no one around her can stand to be anything else. Not exactly a poster child for the average orphan.

Yeah, we're orphans. My mother died of graft-host disease after receiving a marrow transplant to treat her leukemia.
Graft-host disease is a condition in which the body of a recipient of some sort of graft (In this case, bone marrow cells) rejects the transplant. It attacks the cells, effectively tearing apart the part of the body where it occurs.
Sounds vicious, doesn't it?

I'm glad my sister was as young as she was. She didn't understand what was going on at all. Actually, I was pretty young too, only twelve. But still, I was old enough to recognize that my mother was suffering, and she wasn't going to get better. The last thing she did was make me swear I'd take care of my sister no matter what. She knew I loved my sister more than anything, but I think she wanted to make sure our family would stay together, even after she was gone. Four-year-old Carmen would ask me every day when Mommy would be home, and would tape pictures she drew for her to the wall of my mother's hospital room.

I cried a lot during that time, but never once did I allow my sister to see my tears. Knowing that my mother wouldn't want me to cry when I could do nothing, I would lock myself in my room. I had to be strong for my sister. Someone had to.

Shortly after my mother died, my father abandoned his duty as one and shot himself one day while we were out at school. Luckily, my sister and I didn't walk in to find the body; one of the neighbors had heard the gunshot and called the police.

For a long time, I hated him. I hated him for leaving my sister and me, for not being stronger and not holding on for us.
But I don't. Not anymore. I'm just sad.
He was so broken by my mother's death that n nothing mattered to him. In the end, I pity that he made my mother's legacy into nothing. Maybe she knew. Maybe that's why she made me swear I'd take care of little Carmen; she knew he wouldn't. Joche Cavailier, the woman who always knew what was best for everyone. A mother to her last breath, always taking care of those around her.
Living with my grandparents wasn't horrible, they tended to our needs as necessary, but it was like they were pet-sitting their neighbor's cat. They didn't love us.
So, once I had a steady job and paid off my car, I packed my sister and me up, and we moved in with a friend of mine.
Abigail was like a sister to me, and my biggest supporter. She saw me at my most vulnerable, and would hold me until I could stand by myself again. When I cried, she cried; when I was angry, she was angry. And when I got too angry, she'd bring me ice for my bruised knuckles, and help me patch up the wall. The most important thing, though, was that she cared about Carmen almost as much as I did. She treated her like her baby sister, always caring for her. And me. The girl had the patience of a saint, especially considering she was only two years older than me. When I think about it, I realize that she was a lot like my mother. Caring, patient, loving, intelligent, and beautiful, inside and out.
We didn't live with her for very long, though. Soon after we moved in, my sister and I were accepted into Falton Academy on scholarships. We moved into the dormitory there.
End of history.

I had yet to understand our stroke of luck: our scholarships. My sister was a bit young for private schools to be looking into her brilliance (She's an intelligent girl, but not a prodigy.), and, being kind of a slacker, I wasn't a stand-out student academically. Why would they want us? Well, if they did any sort of research, they'd see that I'm not going anywhere without my sister, so that would make her more of a bargaining tool to them. So now, the question remains: Why would they want me? There is no logical reason.
The pencil clutched in my hand suddenly snapped. Opening my hand, I sighed in irritation at the splinters embedded in my palm, and plucked them out with my long nails, pressing the punctures on the hem of my skirt.
Another one broken. Dammit. I stuffed both halves into my bag as the bell rang.

Chapter One, Part Four.

I walked over to Bobby, smoothing out any facial expression.
"Hello, Bobby," I said cordially, sitting next to him.
"Who are you?" he replied rudely. "I didn't say you could sit there."
I struggled to maintain self-control, fighting to keep myself from rolling my eyes or punting the damn kid out of the nearest window.
"Do you remember when your brother got punched on the jaw?" I asked, voice casual.
He got fidgety. Perfect. "Uh, yeah, why?"
I leaned closer to him, staring him unflinchingly in the eyes. "That was me." He gulped audibly, shrinking back. "Now, then. I hear you've been picking on a couple of girls in your grade."
"I, uh, I..."
"I don't need an explanation. All I wanted to tell you is that you may want to rethink the way you've been treating everyone. You don't want to end up getting someone really bad-tempered angry, do you?" He shook his head. "Good. Now, don't make me come back again, or I'll be very, very upset." He paled.

"Have a nice lunch, Bobby," I called over my shoulder as I walked away, grinning evilly to myself.

Chapter One, Part Three.

I went to see Carmen at lunch. She was sitting with some of her friends.
"Lali!" she got up to hug me.
"Hey-a, squirt."
"Lali, I made a new friend! Her name is Delilah." She turned to a girl who looked to be about her age, ten, but unusually willowy for one so young. Maybe she was older. Delilah smiled uncertainly.
"Hi, Delilah. I'm Athaliah, Carmen's big sister." I waved, and the little girl's face broke into a genuine smile, framed by her dark, auburn curls. Her eyes were an almost golden brown. Weird.
"It's a pleasure to meet you," she said politely.
"The pleasure is all mine." I grinned. Guess she was older. "How is everyone treating you?"
"Oh, they've been really nice, mostly."
"Mostly? You want I should, uh, take 'em out back and rough 'em up a little?" I asked her in my cheesiest Brooklyn accent, winking at her like a total dork.
The girls all laughed, except for one of them, Serena, who stared at me in horror, eyes wide behind her glasses.
"You wouldn't actually hurt anyone, would you?" she squeaked.
"No, no, of course not. Well, no one your age." I smiled broadly at the little girl. "I was only kidding."
"Oh..." Her small face reddened.
"It's cool, kiddo. Don't mind my bad sense of humor. So anyway," I turned to Delilah, "who's been bothering you?"
"Um, I don't know his name. He's over there, the one who's being really loud." I looked where she pointed, at a boy with shaggy brown hair and an obnoxious amount of freckles. He looked faintly familiar, but I didn't know why until another girl, Katharine, piped up.
"His name's Bobby Larson. He's so mean to everyone," she said, crossing her small arms.
Ugh! That's why he looked familiar! I can't believe that slimeball's parents popped out a mini-Trent! Fantastic. I groaned.
"What, Lali?" Carmen looked at me, her face wondering.
"Do you remember when I almost broke that kid's jaw?"
"Yeah, what about it?"
Ignoring Delilah's wide-eyed expression, I answered, "That's his brother."
"Ohh."
"Well, darlings," I stood up. "I need to go. Don't be late coming home, Cami. I'm cooking tonight." I bent down to kiss her forehead.
"Okay, Lali. I'll be on time." She smiled. I waved to the girls at the table and walked away.
I wasn't really finished in the elementary cafeteria yet, though.

Chapter One, Part Two.

Life in a boarding school has its perks.
Not being able to see anyone than the usual group is not one of them.
These two guys in my grade, Trent Larson and Brenner Jamison, are total pains, losers, jerks, asswipes, you name the label, it will probably fit. They harass the teacher and most of the students daily (The only ones spared are the guys who'd kick them to China and the hot blondes they drool over. Ugh.), which used to include pale, brunette me, until I lost my temper one day and nearly threw a desk at them. I'm kind of prone to violence.
Their victim of choice was a boy I didn't know the name of. His complexion was light like mine, and he had shoulder-length dark brown hair. No matter how much they picked on him, his hazel eyes reflected no pain, only mild disinterest. I couldn't stand just letting them get away with it, though, even though never once did the boy respond. One day, I snapped after a particularly irritating remark (I don't remember what it was.), and punched Trent in the jaw so hard, my knuckles turned a lovely shade of purple. Satisfyingly enough, he couldn't talk or eat properly for a week or two. Lucky for me, the dean likes me, and let me off with a slap-on-the-wrist punishment. For a while, Trent left the boy alone, but I guess he figured out that I can't touch him, because he went right back to being a little shit not long after.

Anyway.

Trent and Brenner were back at it again, insulting that poor kid. I always wondered why he didn't fight back.
"Maybe he knows something I don't," I thought.
Just as the thought crossed my mind, he turned and looked me dead in the eyes. My breath caught in my throat. His eyes were yellow.
Shocked, I stared back, unable to respond. Then, he blinked, and his eyes returned to their sullen hazel. My heart pounded so hard in my chest it hurt. What the hell was that?!
"Miss Cavailier."
Maybe it was my imagination. Maybe it's just paranoia, or delirium from lack of sleep. Maybe-
"Miss Cavailier!"
"Huh?" I snapped out of the ocean of thoughts caused by mere seconds of eye contact. "Yes, Mr. Conrich?"
"What people were targeted during the Salem witch trials?"
Oh. Duh. "Older, unmarried women, some younger women who were more progressive. There were some men, a lot of cats, and a dog."
A couple of kids giggled. They probably thought I was guessing.
"Correct. Good to see you were paying attention."
"Um, thank you, sir."
Brenner continued snickering. Ugh. What a creep.
"Falling asleep in class, Cavailier? I thought you were supposed to be a good student." Trent taunted in his annoying, nasal voice. Brenner's donkeyish laugh brayed louder.
"You know, I don't think you'd like it much if your jaw were wired shut, Larson."
Funny how my threats, however full of crap they were, still scared him. He shut up.

With an extremely self-satisfied smirk, I looked up, directly into the eyes of the boy. His stare was the most intense I'd ever seen. Suddenly, my face burned hot, and I ducked my head to hide my blush.

Chapter One, Part One.

I dragged myself to class, after packing Carmen's lunch and sending her off to hers.
"Athaliah!" a chirpy voice rang out behind me.
I grunted in response.
"Good morning, Sunshine!" Hannah grinned, her perfectly white teeth even and straight. With her platinum blonde, pin-straight locks, blue-grey eyes and all-American look, she didn't seem like the sort of girl who would talk to me.
But she did.
"Oh come on..." I groaned. "Really?"
She stared at me. "My gosh, those are some dark circles. Are you okay?"
"Rough night." I opened my locker, voice huskier than usual.
"I see that. You know, I've got this really great concealer..."
"I'm way lighter than you, fake-bake."
"Hey!"
"Just kidding. But really, I'm too pale for your makeup."
"Yeah, you're such a vampire. You ought to get some sun once in a while."
"...I like being rare, not well-done. Tell the cook to hold the melanoma."
She rolled her eyes as the bell rang.
"Time to go. 'Bye, Athaliah!" she skipped off.
"See ya, Hannah."

Author's note:
This chapter is shaping up to contain a lot of dialogue. The characters are all making their introductions, so just know that if they seem really shallow now, they'll flesh out.

Prologue.

Everything's hazy... I'm running through the forest from something, but I don't know what it is. I can hear it breathing behind me, bloody and feral... The twigs and thorns that litter the ground scrape the soles of my feet, dig their teeth into my ankles and calves... The pain barely registers; I'm too propelled by fear to notice anything else. A howl rips into the night and I trip and fall. Suddenly, the stillness presses against my eardrums. All I can hear is the sound of my own ragged breathing, clouds of misty white enveloping my face. It's so cold... Something warm touches my fingertips and I look down. A red-tinged lake is in front of me, its mirror-smooth surface unmoving, despite the light wind that attempted to strip my flesh to the bone. But I don't notice the strange coloring, the strange heat of the water. A face is staring back at me- like mine, but with wild, blood-shot yellow eyes, razor-sharp teeth, and blood all over my face, dripping from my lips...My reflection.

I scream.

My eyes flew open. The duvet was strewn on the floor. My skin was covered in a cold sweat, and the sheets were tangled around my limbs. As my breathing slowed down, I untangled myself from the bedclothes, hands shaking. I groaned. "Snap out of it," I muttered, slapping myself a couple of times. A gentle knock on the door coaxed me out of bed.

"Lali?"
I opened the door. "Carmen." The frown on my face smoothed out. "What are you doing up, sweetie?"
"I heard you scream..." She rubbed her eyes.
"Oh..." I smiled. "It's okay, I just had a bad dream. See, it's alright to have bad dreams. Even your big sister has them sometimes."
She yawned and smiled sleepily.
"Alright munchkin, time to go back to bed," I told her, picking her up.
"Lali?" her voice chimed as I tucked her in.
"Yes?"
"What do you do when you have bad dreams?"
"Well, first, I take lots of deep breaths and I look around my room so that I know I'm home, and there's nothing to be afraid of. And then I fix my bedsheets, and go back to bed."
"Oh..."
"What's the matter?"
"I thought it was different when you're big... I thought maybe you had something special you did."
"Silly girl," I ruffled her hair. "I'm big, but I'm not magic."
She cuddled her stuffed monster to her chest.
"Good night, baby."
"Good night, Lali."

I walked back to my bed, reflecting on the nightmare. It had felt so real... I shivered uncomfortably. Gazing through the window at the moon, my mind cleared and I was left thoughtless, skin drained of color by the silver wash of the moonlight.