Bia

There are three words in the English language that can terrify any high school student.

Saturday.
Morning.
Detention.

I walked into the school, slightly disturbed by the general eeriness of it all, and made my way to the library where I, and several other students, would spend my day in silence.

“Bia Dellnor! How nice of you to join us – four minutes late.” Our principal’s voice rang out from the back of the library.
“I’m sorry, sir. I was attacked by a squirrel on my way here,” I explained.
He raised an eyebrow as he walked towards me. “A squirrel? Seriously?”
“Sadly,” I replied.

He let out a jovial laugh and told me to take a seat at the long table with the four other students who’d be joining me in my torture.

“I hope you brought a lunch,” he said merrily as he walked out of the room, leaving us to our own devices.

“A squirrel? Are you fucking serious? Because that is the best excuse I’ve heard in a long time!” Artemis Crawley, a slacker from my math class, raised his hand to high-five me.
I stared at him for a beat then responded. “I am serious. Animals don’t like me very much.”

In my head, I added “animals with souls, that is.”

He shook his head in disbelief and patted me on the back. I stood up and moved my chair to another spot at the table, next to a supposedly sleeping Trevor Cook, who’s eyeliner-ridden eyes were closed almost completely.

As I pulled out a notebook and began to start my homework, Trevor came to life. He raised his arms in a stretch and let out a loud yawn to inform everyone he was now awake. His dark hood fell off and he messed up his spiky black hair with a hand, fiddling with one of his snakebites with the other hand.

“Bia,”he said quietly, drawing out the ‘a’ on my name.
I put my pen down and gave him a dirty look. “What?”
“Hey, it’s not like any of the teachers care about homework, so why are you doing it?” he asked.
I shrugged. “Nothing better to do, I guess.”
“You could talk to me,” he offered.

I had to laugh at his attempt.
“No thank-you. I’d rather drown myself in the boys washroom.”
He chucked too. “Harsh.”

About an hour later, Trevor attempted to talk to me again. At this point I had my headphones in and was listening to a song I really hated, but I pretended to be enjoying myself so he would leave me alone. It didn’t work.

“I get the cutting thing,” he told me seriously.
I pulled out my headphones. “I seriously doubt that.”
“No no, I do it too. We’re the same, you know. Different, but the same.” He smiled.
“Not really,” I said with a smirk.

I wondered what would happen if I told him the truth about me. Hey Trevor, my mother gave me to evil demons and now my soul-giving ability is being held prisoner until I destroy the protectors, whoever they are. Hey Trevor, I might turn into a demon myself if I fail. Hey Trevor, my mother won’t even acknowledge what she’s done.

Instead, all I said was “I don’t wear eyeliner.”

He looked deep into my grey eyes and gave me a little smile.
“You don’t need to. Your eyes do a good enough job of presenting themselves.”

I wasn’t quite sure what he meant by that so I left it alone. Turning my attention to his eyes, I couldn’t help but be captivated by the green amongst the hazel, the small flecks that let me know he wasn’t who he said he was.

“Three more hours to go,” Trevor sighed.
“I know. It seems like forever.” I let my head hit the desk.
Trevor let out a small giggle. “It’s not eternity, though.”

No. It’s not how long I’ll be trapped if I don’t succeed. Or fail, depending on how you look at it.

I stroked my scars softly, a constant reminder that I would never be like everyone else. I could never fit in, even if I wanted to, because I had a power. A bigger scar. A destiny.