MEGAN. AFTER SIXTH PERIOD.
Megan did not know how she was going to pass Algebra. Or Common-tongue, for that matter. She had tried really hard to pay attention to her Algebra teacher’s first day spiel, but with Chris sitting right in front of her, with his back and shoulders straining his shirt, and the way his black hair was just a little bit curly toward the ends, and the well-defined muscles she could see in his bare arms, and and and… paying attention had simply been impossible. She was going to have to make Chris sit behind her going forward.
It was a relief when the bells rang. As they were packing up their stuff Chris looked at her with this adorably crooked half-smile on his face and asked, “So what you got next? Inquiring minds want to know.”
Megan giggled. “French One. What about you?”
“History,” he said with a sigh. “Which is like—don’t get me wrong, it’s important to know history, I get that, but man, the way we learn it in school is boring. I’ve always been taught it in the most boring way possible, but maybe high school will be better. I’m hoping we’ll get deeper into important battles and hunts, maybe. Why French?”
Megan blinked. She’d planned on saying something insightful about history, hopefully, she didn’t know exactly what, but… “Um, I think it’s pretty? I don’t know, my parents think I should be learning Japanese or Putonghua or Marathi or Indic Common or something.” As she spoke, they made their way to the exit. “I don’t really have a good reason for French instead of something more useful.”
“Gotcha,” Chris said, nodding, as they stepped out into the hall, other students ahead of and behind them. “Nothing wrong with that. If you like French you like French.” Megan was looking at him as he talked, and so she saw behind him a girl step out of a neighboring classroom, and the way said girl’s face lit up upon setting eyes on Chris.
She was tiny, both shorter and slighter than Megan, maybe fifteen point five[1] at best if you discounted her heels. Her deep auburn hair was elaborately braided in a manner that would have been beyond Megan’s not-in-any-way-lacking hairstyling skills, hanging down on the right side of her head, long enough that even in the braid it ended just below her breasts. She had fair skin and expertly applied makeup that made the most of it. She dressed like she was working in an office, with cute, expensive looking black slacks, a light gray blazer, and a scoop-neck dark blouse that tastefully made the best of what she was working with.
[1] Decimeters, recall.
And she immediately said, loudly enough to be heard from fifteen feet away in the already noisy hallway, “Chris? You have to be Chris Gramyre, right?” She approached as she spoke, and Chris turned to face her. Her voice was high pitched and bubbly. Megan could see she had bright brown eyes, and with her small upturned nose and delicate chin, Megan thought she was really much too pretty.
The way she was batting her eyelashes at Chris as he said, “That’s me alright. I haven’t had the pleasure,” made Megan think that the girl also thought she was very pretty. A pit opened up in Megan’s stomach.
“I’m Circe,” the girl said, holding out her hand palm and fingers down, like royalty expecting their ring to be kissed. For that matter, she wore several rings. “Circe Pendergast.” Oh. Megan didn’t like that, either.
“A pleasure to meet you, Circe,” Chris said, his tone mild, as he reached out and took her hand. He gave it a good shake, then dropped it. “That’s an interesting name.”
Megan felt smug. He’d practically kissed her own hand, and he just gave Circe a handshake.
“Yes,” Circe said, her smile growing a touch strained, but her tone staying upbeat and cutesy. “Well, my mother became convinced that I was going to turn out to have magic powers while she was pregnant with me, so decided my name must be Circe.”
“Ah,” Chris said, with all apparent interest. “I gather from the way you phrase that your magic has yet to manifest?”
“Yes, that’s the case,” Circe said, her smile fading a little more, her speech less bubbly. “Not so far anyway. It’s getting to be a little late, but I still have time.”
“That you do,” Chris said, with a sage nod. “And if sorcery doesn’t work out for you, there’s always thaumaturgy, or dealing with spirits.”
Circe gave a tiny, repressed sigh. Then, tone bright, she said, “Yes, I suppose there is! Still, it won’t be the end of the world if Mother is incorrect about something for once.”
“That’s true, I suppose,” Chris said in an agreeable tone. “She’s right about most things, then?”
“That’s why she’s on the Executive Council!” Circe said, her smile widening again. That’s what Megan had been afraid of. She was that Pendergast.
“Ah. Cool,” Chris said, then looked at Megan. “I don’t know what that means really?” he sort of asked.
“The Executive Council is Seattle’s executive branch rather than a governor-mayor like a lot of city-states have,” Megan supplied.
Circe’s smile had grown a shade colder at the exchange, and now she was regarding Megan in an interested manner. “Yes,” she agreed, then said, “You’re Megan O’Sadie. You were a manager for Asphodel’s Tourney team in eighth grade, right?”
Taken off guard, Megan replied, “Y-yes. I did. I mean, I was.”
“The boys on Elysium’s team were pretty disappointed that you stopped managing,” Circe said, putting a hand up to her mouth and letting out half a giggle afterward. “They thought you made matches with Asphodel more fun.”
Megan blinked at Circe. “O-okay?” she said. “I’m... sorry?”
Circe shrugged with one shoulder, the motion dainty, refined, and calculated. “I’m not someone who wanted to watch you more than the matches,” she said. “Don’t have to apologize to me.”
“Well! Interesting stuff, Circe! But I have got to get to History,” Chris said, afterward glancing at Megan with amusement dancing in his eyes. “I’m sure we’ll chat more later.” He stepped past her, and started walking.
“Yeah, I’ve got to get going too,” Megan said. “It was nice to meet you, Circe.”
“A pleasure to be sure,” Circe said with a nod and a smile that bordered on smirk. They both started walking at the same time, passing each other as they did.
Megan double timed it to catch up with Chris. “How many people have you met today?” she asked curiously.
“Oh,” Chris said. “Maybe thirty? Forty? Somewhere in there. If you don’t count all the names I’ve learned from roll call. I need to actually say hi to a lot of those still, though.”
“That still seems like so many people. And you really want to say hi to everyone too?” Megan asked. Megan liked people, but she still couldn’t imagine trying to have a short conversation with everyone in the school. Or even their class.
“Oh, probably,” Chris said. “Seems rude otherwise. I don’t know how easy all the upperclassfolk will be to catch, but I’m going to do my best.”
“You’re so friendly! You must have had so many friends in middle school,” Megan said as they exited the building, curious to hear about his past.
“Oh, yeah, I suppose. Plenty of school friends, to be sure,” Chris said. He didn’t go on, and Megan wondered if she should ask more. She didn’t want to annoy him by pushing on something he didn’t want to talk about.
The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.
“That’s cool,” Megan said instead. “Did you do tourney in middle school? I really love watching tourney. It’s so fun!”
“Is that why you asked about my teacher at lunch?” Chris asked. “Yeah, I did tourney. I actually took the Carolina territory regionals two years running.”
“Wow!” Megan said, her eyes widening. Nisha was, as far as Megan knew, the only person attending Persephone who had won the Oregon territory regional tournament. Megan wondered who was better. She kind of wanted to see Chris kick Nisha’s ass. “Yeah, I know a little about tourney coaches and teachers, though I guess I didn’t really expect you to have trained with someone I’d know.”
“I guess it would have been neat to have a really famous trainer, but my father is kind of famous—actually famous in most of Carolina—and I’m pretty good, so it all worked out,” Chris said.
“I mean, yeah, if you took the Carolina regionals,” Megan said. “Too bad middle school doesn’t have nationals, huh?”
“Yeah, it would have been cool to win some sort of national tournament,” Chris said. “Not likely, but cool.”
“Well, you’ll have more chances!” Megan said. She really wanted to see him fight a match or two. Maybe she could drag him to Thrushbeard’s to do some sparring with someone.
“I mean, not so much,” Chris said. “I’m fifteen now, so I’m hunting. I’m not going to be able to do that and hunt at the same time.”
“Oh,” Megan said, feeling stupid. Of course he wasn’t going to both do tourney and hunt! Lauren’s brother didn’t, why would Chris? “Right, that makes sense.”
“Well, I gotta get in this building,” Chris said. “See you after school!”
Trying to smile sincerely at him and hoping he didn’t think she was dumb, Megan said, “Sounds great! See you then!”
He seemed to hesitate, just looking at her, and then he gave her a two finger salute and went into the Social Studies building. Megan’s smile faded to a pensive frown, and she made her way across campus to the Languages building. People looked at her—everyone looked at her, it seemed like—but no one tried to talk to her.
In the French classroom, Beth waved nervously from across the room when Megan walked in. Megan decided she could handle this—Beth was her closest friend right now, until things were... right with Angie and the boys again. And the poor girl hadn’t had it easy, the day or the year.
“Oh my gawwwds, Megan!” Beth whispered with the sort of awe you’d expect someone to display in the home of a god. “How are you holding up? Are you okay? I can’t believe you had lunch with him and them at the same time!”
“I’m pretty frazzled,” Megan admitted. “Chris is really, really distracting, which is… bad. I feel bad. I shouldn’t be distracted from what happened to Angie and the boys, but great Powers that boy is something else. I just can’t believe I’m getting all twitterpated the same day I found out half my world was a lie.” She glared down at her hands for a moment.
Beth nodded along. “I get it though, Meggie. I met him at the Bakili’s welcoming party, and I was depressed for a week because I knew there was no way I’d stand a chance next to Lauren or Katier. He was great at conversation though, even though he claims he’s boring. He really listens to you. Like Evan and Angie did when we were kids.” Shepaused. “He’s kinda silly, though.”
Megan giggled. “You don’t mention Ryan.”
“Ryan’s never really quiet, though, except when he’s focused on some computer thing,” Beth said. “Or he used to be.”
Megan felt glum, then. “There is that,” she murmured. “They’re different in a lot of ways, now.” She was silent for a little bit, as Beth looked down at her hands. Eventually, Megan said, “Ryan’s actually the most the same as far as I can tell. You should have heard him talk about… about It, you know, this morning.”
“That’s kind of comforting, actually,” Beth said. “Things can’t have been that bad if Ryan’s still the same.”
“I guess everyone is scared of them?” Megan asked.
Beth shrugged. “I guess so. I saw them sometimes, but never really close. I kinda avoided them. I think they saw me too, but they never tried to talk to me.” She shook her head. “By the time I felt like I could keep myself under control enough to want to see them, they were avoiding me, too. I thought they hated me, us. And you never talked—”
“Beth, can we please not talk about this now?” Megan said, her voice strained. “I’m going to have to start figuring out French.”
“Sure, Megan,” Beth said. “Sorry. Um. Did you get to read any messages? Everything kinda blew up while you were gone. Like, Brandon—”
“No. I didn’t read anything. I don’t know how much I care, Beth,” Megan said. “Everyone kept this from us.” Then she said, “So Brandon finally cheated on Lauren?”
Beth gasped. “Oh my gods, how did you guess?”
“I figured it would happen sooner or later,” Megan said. “That’s all I need. I think I need to think for a bit, Bethie. Do you mind?”
“No, of course not,” Beth said with a vigorous shake of her head. So they both sat with their thoughts for the little time left before the bell.
RYAN. BEGINNING OF SEVENTH PERIOD
“Well, won’t this just be a ball,” Ryan said quietly when he joined Angie in the gym, at the back of the clustered crowd of the class. The coach was already speaking—he’d been a little slow.
The gym was a gym, one of two in the building—pull out bleachers on one side of the room (not currently pulled out), some basketball hoops, and the floor was currently covered with tourney mats. Ryan wondered if they would have to put them away, as the last class of the day. That would be obnoxious.
“You look so cute in shorts,” Angie whispered, smiling at him.
“Wonderful, that’s exactly what I’m going for,” Ryan whispered back, as dryly as one could manage when whispering. He hated wearing shorts. They made him look like a little kid.
Angie stuck her tongue out at him, then they both turned to regard the subject of his first statement. Katie Kay, Nisha, Katier, and Lauren were all in their PE class. Lauren and Nisha were standing further toward the front of the crowd and on one side of the rough half-circle the class had formed around the teacher. Katie Kay was standing as far away around the circle from them as possible. Katier stood about half way between.
Lauren still seemed half catatonic, and Nisha still seemed to be fussing over her. Katie Kay glared at Angie and Ryan furiously. Katier glanced anxiously between everyone involved.
Their teacher, a short, muscular woman in her thirties called Coach Vitalarii had been saying, “—sure you’re all very excited that you’re in high school now. You all been fifteen for a while, with all the privileges that go with that, like carrying sidearms, relaxed curfew, drinkin’ and drugs, and the right to get a Beast hunting license. With those privileges, though, comes danger. When yer out after dark, you might just find yourself attacked by a Beast. Especially if yer hunting them.
“Each year, despite the best efforts of our brave militias and Light Bearers, ‘bout three hundred thousand people in the FUCS are killed in Beast attacks, and another half million are injured. O’ course, over half of both of those numbers are militia members ’n’ hunters, but even still, there’s a good chance at least a few of you will be attacked by a Beast at some point in your lives. So for the entirety of high school, each Monday we’ll be doing evasion training. Including sprinting.”
This last received some groans. Ryan sighed quietly.
Coach Vitalarii responded to the groans by saying, “The salt frames on our doors and windows make Beasts wary of following us into buildings, particularly houses. Yer best chance of surviving a Beast attack is get indoors ASAP.” No fucking shit. “I know a lot of you are excited to start the shooting unit, but as big a deal as society makes of your right to carry a sidearm, fighting Beasts is really best left to the professionals. Till you’ve graduated and joined the militia, you have a much better chance of survival by runnin’, not fightin’.”
Soon they spread out through the room, running through basic evasion techniques and rolls, just for Vitalarii to see where everyone was at. Rolls and going prone were easy enough on mats, but soon they were going to be learning to do so on harder surfaces. That was going to suck. Evan did that shit already—Ryan didn’t know how.
Lauren seemed to have pulled herself together enough to practice evasion. She still didn’t seem like her normal self though. She wasn’t talking to Nisha, really. The only time the whole class Ryan noted her talking was when the coach spoke to her. She and Nisha did not pay any attention to Ryan and Angie. Kay continued to glare.
“I wonder what Vitalarii thought of Evan,” Ryan mused a little while after they started. “He’s not as obsessive with evasion practice as he is with shooting, but I bet he still puts in a lot more time than most kids.” They had been able to pair off together, what with Ryan being as small as Angie and Vitalarii not knowing shit about them, so they were able to speak quietly without anyone else getting involved.
“Do you think he had Vitalarii this morning?” Angie asked.
“She basically handles all the freshmen PE classes,” Ryan replied. “She’s going to shit her pants when she sees him shoot.”
“I wonder what his plan is for that?” Angie said. “I’ve asked him a couple of times but he’s always just waved it off. He’s flown under the radar for a long time, but now we’ll actually be training in shooting in school.”
Ryan shrugged. “He wants to hunt. The only way he’s going to get to do that is by teaming up with Chris or finding a fireteam, and he won’t find a fireteam without people knowing what he can do.”
EVAN. SEVENTH PERIOD.
Life science was unexciting. Most of the class were Asphodel kids—he felt comfortable coldly staring them to death if they tried to approach him. Of the non-Asphodels, he only recognized Jack Riddlesworth, Sam’s friend. He gave Evan a very embarrassed wave but stayed away.
Other than that, nothing of interest happened in Life Science. Standard first day shit, really. Let us speak no more of it.