Chapter 1.
Mahrissa Matherson. 09:01. Darkmoor School for Delinquent Juveniles. Biology.
We all walked into Biology; the assigned class we were supposed to take every Monday morning. I think I could hear each and every jaw fall open. Mysteriously attached to the chalk board was a cartoon picture of Adam and Eve with artificial leaves placed in a few choice locations. Scribbled about the poster in thick blue chalk was the invitation, ‘WELCOME TO SEX-ED’.
“This is exactly why the warden won’t let us have camera phones...” Andi said as she tugged me into the seat next to her. Lately we had both been getting along and I was happy about that. I think I liked having a friend, someone who I could complain about others with. "Wasn't today’s toast lovely?"
“Ha. Sure, Andi," I whispered to her as the teacher Mr. Morgan sauntered into the room, stepping around the guards confidently and making his way to his seat with a sigh.
We all sat around and stared up at him, waiting for the class to begin; for his lecture to bore us to a premature death.
“Okay class, I’ve got a surprise for you—”
“S. E. X." Destrey yelled from the back of the room, while a chorus of the others whooped in happiness.
“Enough!” Mr. Morgan roared, his face flushing red. “...Let’s not start the class off in a bad way.” He snapped and sat down in a swivel chair at the front of the room.
The room was dull, the bland colours standing out like a needle in a haystack. My guess was that this room was just as dull as any real classroom; nothing that made it stand out, windows were framed white and on the outside there were metal bars designed to keep us contained. The desks were set up in rows of three with two kids per desk.
“You all seem a bit too happy today. I don’t like the fact that you each picked your seats because of familiarity. I’ll bet each of you knows the person next to you well. You picked these seats for a reason, right? Well... this is your surprise; I want each of you to get to know someone that isn’t close to you, preferably someone of the opposite gender. So that is why, today, we are creating a new seating chart.”
I opened my mouth to protest, but Andi beat me to it. “Morgan! You can’t do that. Do you want us to go on a crazy killing spree? We are all damned criminals! You can’t pull that kind of crap now.”
“I can pull this crap whenever I want. And if you want to fail this class, you’ll be back in here, where I will be pulling this kind of crap all over again,” Mr. Morgan said smiling as he shuffled some paper on his desk.
Andi gave him a death stare. She was infamous for that look, managing to do everything except audibly hiss.
“Every partner on the left-hand side of the table—that’s your left—move up one seat. Front row lefts move to the back of the room,” Mr. Morgan sighed, shaking his head.
“This is crap!” Andi huffed as she shoved her notebooks inside her backpack and ripped the zipper shut, “See you after class...” she sighed as she stormed into a seat at the back of our row like a cyclone. She was glaring at her new partner Jada like she was possible the most disgusting human being alive at this point in time.
Jada was a small girl with short blonde curls that bounce over her shoulders. She always reminded me of a puppy; the way she was always hyper and full of immature comments was somewhat cute.
I then turned so that I could check out the rest of the room behind me. I knew all of my classmates...except one—the new boy. Chance. You would be surprised at how many people gossip at a school for delinquents, it spreads faster than any average school. Everyone was gossiping about the new kid– particularly Carrie; she loved to gossip nearly as much as she liked to expose everyone’s secrets.
Chance set his Bio text book down on the table, threw his leather jacket of the back of the chair and slid into the seat that until recently had belonged to Andi.
The girls and the guys here at Darkmoor barely got to see each other, only allowed to socialise in class discussions. It made sense in a way; I can’t imagine the warden wanting to look after delinquents in romantic situations. That was why the genders were set up into two blocks; guys in the west and girls in the east.
I could feel my eyebrows go up, because I could see Chance’s features now; his eyes were such a blue that they looked like a portion of the sky just before the clouds swallowed it up, swirls of a just about white danced among the iris. His jet black hair was layered around his face, hanging slightly too long at the front, dangling in his eyes. I had never really believed in reading things in people’s eyes, all that windows-of-the-soul bullshit—until now that is.
I was beginning to become paranoid about how I looked; whether my black hair hung in curls or if my green eyes looked sulky or pretty. Chance was making my cheeks flush and me squirm about in my seat.
I could feel his eyes burning into me as they danced over my body, lingering over a few select parts. The corners of his mouth tilted up into a smile that spelled trouble, with a promise
“Human reproduction can be a sticky subject—”
“Ewwww!” groaned a chorus of students; cutting the teacher off mid-sentence.
“It will require maturity from all of you. I expect you to all behave well. I think the best approach to this subject is by sleuthing. I want you all to practise this technique; Biology is not the only science this could apply for. I thought we would start the study of sex education off by getting to know someone you would not interact with, then the topic with advance to other discussions. You will all be bringing me a write up on your new partners by tomorrow. I expect authenticity; I will be looking to make sure nothing is fictionalised. I want interaction,” Morgan said, leaving out the implied or else.
I sat reasonably still, tapping my pencil along with the clock on the wall. The piece of paper which sat in front of me was blank, and looked to stay that way unless I did anything about it. I sat my elbow on the table and placed my chin on my fist and blew out a sigh.
My eyes were focused ahead; towards the front of the room, but I could hear the glide of his pencil on paper. He was writing, and I wanted to know what. A few minutes of sitting together wasn’t long enough for him to make random assumptions about me. I flittered a look slide ways; black hair was hanging in his eyes as he wrote. He was already several lines deep and his list was growing. “What are you writing...?” I asked.
“And she speaks English,” he sarcastically retorted, while scrawling it down on his paper. Each stroke of his handwriting was both smooth and lazy at once; effortless.
I leaned closer to him, trying to peer across at what he had written, but he just folded his paper in half; concealing his list. “What did you write?” I practically demanded. No answer. “What is your real name?” I asked with my pencil poised to write.
I glanced up at him in time to catch another dark grin. The way his lips twitched up at the corners seemed to be daring me to pry something out of him. “Your name..?” I repeated, in case my voice faltered like I did in my imagination.
“Call me Chance. I mean it. Call me,” he said, winking his eye in a way that I was sure meant he was teasing me.
“What do you do for leisure time?” I asked, bitting down on my lip.
“I don’t have much free time.”
“Okay, listen up. This assignment will most definitely be graded. I don’t want to fail, so do me a favour—” I said, holding eye contact to show him I was serious even though he cut me off.
But he just leaned back in his chair, folding his arms behind him head. “What kind of favour..?”
I'm pretty sure he is an ‘innuendo type’. I thought, thinking of the way he effortlessly teased me. If you took the words he said seriously they could be taken innocently, instead of in a teasing manner.
He hooked his finger under the seat of my chair, dragging me closer to him. I wasn’t sure if I should scoot away and show my panic or do nothing and feign boredom; I chose the latter.
“Free time,” he repeated thoughtfully. “We are both imprisoned in Darkmoor—a school for delinquents—does it look like I have free time?"
I printed ‘Attitude issues’ on my paper.
The hair on the nape of my neck was standing on end, and the temperature in the room seemed to be set on chill. Ordinarily I would have gone to Morgan’s desk and complained until the seating chart was changed, but I didn’t want Chance to think that I was intimidated by him. I was determined to defend myself and I wouldn’t back down until he did.
“Have you ever swum naked?” he asked.
My mouth threatened to drop, but I held it in check. I could feel the colour rise in my cheeks.
“You’re hardly the person I’d tell,” I answered, pouting my lips.
“Ever been to a shrink..?”
“No,” I lied. The truth was that my parents had sent me to countless psychiatrists, trying to sever the connections with my attitude. It wasn’t my choice and I would prefer not to talk about it.
“What crime are you in for?"
“Public intoxication, shoplifting and murder," I said honestly, flashing him my best smirk. I didn’t have to tell him the whole story about how I thought it was self-defence but the judge disagreed. “Why don’t you ask me normal questions? Like... my favourite music?”
“I'm not going to ask what I can guess,” he said in a husky voice.
Did he make it that way on purpose? The thought was swimming through my head.
“You do not know what type of music I listen to,” I stated.
“Normally anything you can get your hands on, you love music.” He said, like he had pulled the guess out of thin air but was so sure of himself.
“Whats that?” Chance asked, tapping his pencil against my collar bone. Instinctively I pulled away, turning my face away from him. “Are you suicidal, Mahrissa?"
His eyes connected with mine as I turned back to face him. I could feel his silent laughter under his expression.
“Has anyone close to you died?"
That question prodded at my inside. My sister Felicity had died of cancer and I couldn’t seem to forget. She is always lingering in the back of my mind. A voice always whispering to me; how can you have fun when your sister is six feet under?
I bit down on my lip until it drew blood; that was beginning to be something I was doing often- something caused by my guilt.
“That's kind of personal."
“Like...?”
“The personal kind,” I snapped. He didn’t need to know any more about me; especially the stuff I keep behind my façade.
“That must be hard. Sorry,” he said, actually sounding like he meant it. There was an act of silence and the edge of his eye seemed to soften a touch, like the walls that he kept himself behind were slowly inching down.
The bell rang and Chance was on his feet making his way to the door- a guard following hard on his heels.
“Wait,” I called out, but he didn’t even slow down, let alone stop. “Excuse me!” He was through the door. “Chance! I didn’t get anything on you.”
He suddenly turned back and walked toward me. Taking my hand, he scribbled something on it before the thought occurred to me that I should pull away.
I looked down at the number written in black ink on my palm and made a fist around it. I wanted to tell him that there was no way in hell I was risking getting caught sneaking over to his room in the west block tonight. I wanted to tell him that it was his entire fault for taking all the time questioning me. I wanted a lot of things, but I just stood there looking like an idiot who didn’t know how to open her mouth.
“I’m busy tonight,” I finally said, but to tell the truth it was a lie.
“So am I,” he said grinning and then walked off. He was gone.
I stood frozen on the spot, digesting what had just happened.
"I won’t ever come. Ever!" I shouted after him, throwing my arms in the air before marching off towards the east block with a guard following my every move.
At the end of the day I knew I would be the one eating my own words. Chance had some sort of pull over me, a strange hold that left me plotting ways to get myself over to room sixteen tonight.
All the while I knew that I didn’t just want to find a way over there so we could chat about our stupid bio assignment, he left me wanting...more.
