Young Writers Society

"Can't complain about much these days, I believe we'll okay. We're screaming out, I believe we'll be okay."

-Oh Honey {Be Okay}

Chapter 2- That's What Friends Are For?

Peyton didn’t catch another glimpse of those four strange teenagers again that summer. She walked the path between the library and her home many times; mostly in hopes of seeing them again, for they’d been the only people her age she’d ever talked to. They made her feel something more towards normal; something she’d never thought she’d ever feel. It had made her feel good inside, at least while it had lasted.

But she hadn’t seen any sign of them, nor of the man in the hoodie other than the one time he’d appeared in her dream. Peyton’s wrist still bore the pentagram that had been burned into her skin, although it no longer glowed like burning coals. It now more resembled a deep scarlet tattoo. It had been hard-pressed to keep the pentagram hidden from her Grams, whose vivid blue eyes hardly ever missed anything. But if she’d seen it, she hadn’t said a word to Peyton about it, which would be strange behavior for her Grams.

The sun was just beginning to rise above the crest of houses and trees in the east, but Peyton was already wide-awake, staring out of her bedroom window, a pit of dread and fear building low in her gut. It was the first day of school, the first day that she wouldn’t be able to hide in her home from the world like she had for the past three months. She dreaded school; but not because she was stupid, simply because of the other students. The teachers were too scared of her to even defend her from the bullies; they simply sat back and ignored the whole thing.

She was smart; she could be at the top of her class if she’d wanted to be. But being the top of her class would have meant drawing unwanted attention on herself. She wasn’t going to give them any more reasons to bully her.

When the sun started glaring into her window, her alarm clock rang out its sharp, irritating chirp, and Peyton reached over to hit the off button. She closed her curtains, blocking the rays of morning sun from coming into her window.

With the feeling of dread growing stronger with each minute that ticked by on her digital clock, Peyton went through the motions of getting ready without putting much heart in what she did. With school, she was always mechanical. She kept her head down, didn’t talk, did her work, and went home. That’s how it was. She never wavered from her path, and nor did she want to. She hated to draw attention to herself.

As she left her room, swinging her bag over her shoulder, she tugged down the sleeve of her jacket, hiding the circle-star on her wrist. There wasn’t any point in letting her Grams see it now, she’d just freak.

But Peyton needn’t have worried. Her Grams wasn’t even home. A note was taped to her Gram’s bedroom door.

Went to St. Patterson’s for the day.

Peyton stopped and reread the note; just to make sure she’d read it right. She was visiting Peyton’s mother? Why? She’d never visited her once in eleven years, so why now? Why choose today of all days, to visit her mother in her psych ward?

But Peyton didn’t have time to wonder about it, because the clock chimed eight times, telling her she had fifteen minutes to get to school before she was late. Being late would mean walking in and having everyone stare at her as she did. She hurried out the door.

Outside, the sun was already starting to warm up the world. It was pretty humid out, and Peyton could feel the heaviness of the air, like it was trying to suffocate her. She wondered briefly if it would rain, although they no longer needed it. That day Peyton had met those four teenagers, it had rained for nearly a week, ending the drought. The rest of the summer had been humid and sticky, instead of hot and dry.

The school was already buzzing with life when Peyton reached it. Students milled in the parking lots and halls, talking to friends that either they hadn’t seen all summer, or had and just wanted to talk to again about how lame it was to be here.

As she looked up at it, she could tell that the brick building was pretty old; the once bright bricks now a dull beige color that was nearly white. The lockers that lined the halls looked freshly painted, and the little metal plates that bore the locket numbers shone with fresh polishing.

Peyton made her way to her locker to put her bag in it, and as she did, she could feel the eyes start to find her in the hall as she passed. The staring had already started and she hadn’t even been here for five minutes. She let out a small sigh and kept walking, never looking up to meet any of the eyes looking at her. It was just always better that way.

Usually, she kept her head down, her eyes averted, and she didn’t have to worry about crashing into people. They ran away from her and the only thing she had to worry about were walls, because those definitely wouldn’t be moving out of her way. However, when she crashed head first into something that was most definitely human and she fell on her butt, she was shocked.

“Are you okay?” The voice sounded vaguely familiar, which was strange, considering people never talked to her, so she never really had the chance to memorize voices.

“I’m fine,” Peyton said, not bothering to look up. By now they would have noticed who she was and would have run away, hopefully not screaming.

But as a hand reached down to help her up, she was shocked. On the inside of the wrist, there was a bright white tattoo of a pentagram, which was exactly the same as her red one. She was so shocked by the tattoo, she stared at the hand for nearly a minute, before she shook her head accepted the help. When she was back on her feet, she looked at her stranger in the eyes.

“Hi,” a pair of familiar blue eyes looked at her through dark blonde lashes. It was the blonde boy from that day. “I’m Xavier.”

“We sort of met,” Peyton said, and then felt foolish. They hadn’t really met, but Ace had told her his name, which didn’t technically count as meeting. “I’m Peyton.”

He gave her a smile, and as he did, she could feel the stares that people were throwing their way. “Um,” Peyton said, twisting her ring on her finger nervously, “I should head to class.”

Xavier’s smile fell a little and he looked into her tawny eyes with his blue ones. It unsettled her. “Is it because they’re staring?”

Peyton averted her eyes away from his blue ones. “No, they always stare. I just really should be getting to class.”

“Well, maybe you could help me find my class?” He asked her, “I’m new here and I don’t really know my way around.”

She felt that she should say no. The poor guy didn’t need to be labeled as a freak by hanging around with her. She should have told him no. But before she could change her mind, she felt her mouth shaping a very different word. “Sure.”

Xavier’s smile was back and she wanted to slap herself. He handed her his class schedule, and she looked it over, finding his first hour class.

“You have history with Mr. Divito first hour,” she told him, “it’s my first class too.”

If it were even humanly possible, Peyton was sure that his smile grew even wider. “Great.” He motioned for her to start walking, and she did. As she moved through the halls with Xavier following her, she looked up, quickly, and saw that the hallway was filled with stares of shock. Peyton allowed herself a small smile. Maybe this was the start of something new. Maybe people would see her talking to other human beings and see that she was just like them.

Okay, maybe that was a shot in the dark, but she had to think of the positives, right? The history classroom was just like it always was, important figures from the past hung on the wall in glossy posters, quotes sitting underneath of them, along with when they were born, and when they’d died.

Peyton sat down in the back of the room in a corner, and wasn’t the least bit shocked when Xavier sat down next to her. Since there wasn’t anyone in the classroom ­—not even the teacher— Xavier asked her, “So, why does everyone stare at you?”

“They think I’m a freak.” The words slipped out of her mouth before she could stop them, and she was completely horrified with herself. Yeah, tell the only person that actually talked to you that the whole school thought you were a freak, that’ll make you best pals, she chided herself, feeling stupid.

“Freakishly beautiful maybe,” he said. “But I don’t think you’re a freak Peyton.”

Any response Peyton could have thought of died in her brain. He’d called her beautiful. Well, freakishly beautiful, which she guessed still might have been a compliment. She could feel herself starting to blush, and was thankful when she didn’t have to answer because the other students began to file in, and Xavier turned away from her, looking slightly embarrassed.

Peyton made herself look busy by fiddling with her notebook and pencil, rearranging them on her desk nervously. The teacher stood up as the bell rang and shut the door, and then turned to face the class, clapping his hands together excitedly.

“So, we’re gonna go around the room, and you all are going to tell the class three things you did this summer,” Mr. Divito said, and pointed to the person in the left front corner of the room. “Start.”

Peyton doodled in her notebook while everyone talked and laughed about fun or funny things they’d done that summer. Not unexpectedly, Mr. Divito skipped right over her, and went on to the next person.

Peyton didn’t mind, since she didn’t really like talking to people who didn’t care about a word she had to say. That is, until a voice beside her decided to speak, “You skipped Peyton.”

Mr. Divito looked startled, and the rest of the class turned to stare. Really stare. Peyton felt more uncomfortable than she ever had in her life, and she just wanted to sink into the plastic and metal of her desk, never to be seen again.

“The new guy wants to know three things the freak did over the summer,” someone said. Peyton felt her face grow hot. This wasn’t going to be good.

Some girl pipped up, “She probably held a few séances.” Everyone laughed.

Someone else, “Communed with the dead.” Even more laughter ensued and Peyton turned to glare at Xavier, who looked like he really wished he hadn’t spoken. Tears started to form in her eyes. She’d handled the glares and the whispers, but she’d never had to deal with something like this. This was pure torture and horror. This was cruelty.

The guy who had first spoken spoke again, “And she probably prayed to the devil while dancing around a fire. Tell us, where’s your devil’s mark?”

Peyton couldn’t take it anymore. Tears flooded down her face, and she glared at Xavier. “Why couldn’t you just keep your mouth shut?” He recoiled from her, looking hurt. She didn’t care; she left her things and ran out of the room, hearing the laughter that resounded a million times in her ears, and in her heart like a lead weight.

She ran into the last stall in the bathroom, and locked the door behind her. She put down the toilet seat and sat on it, pulling her legs up to her chest. She cried, and she cried, and when the bell rang, she put her head between her knees, trying to make herself be quiet so no one would hear her.

She heard girls come in, and she heard them talking.

“Yeah, she totally ran out of the room.”

“So, she just ran out?”

“I would have run out too, after what happened.”

“Are you feeling sorry for that freak?”

“No! Of course not, I’m just saying.”

Peyton buried her head in her knees, and wished that she couldn’t hear what they were saying. It had never been like this, not before they came. When no one spoke up for her, they left her alone. When she kept her head down, they pretended she didn’t exist. She was starting to think she preferred it that way.

When the bell rang again, and she was sure everyone was gone, she let out a sniffle and wiped her eyes with her sleeve. When she did, she saw the stupid bright red mark, and she wanted to throw something. Everything happened because of them. She wanted them to leave her alone.

She heard the bathroom door creak open, and she wanted to scream. She just wanted to be left alone, so why couldn’t people leave her alone?

“Come on Ace, why can’t we just—“ Peyton felt her heart drop into her stomach, and her rage flare. Ace and Scarlett. Two of the people she wanted to leave her alone.

“Scar, seriously, we’ve been over this.”

“Yeah, but—“

“No buts Scar!”

They were pushing open each of the stalls, checking for the one that didn’t open. Peyton knew they’d get to hers eventually, and she dreaded that. She didn’t want them finding her here. She wanted them to leave her alone.

When they inevitably reached her stall, and tried to push it open, only to find it wouldn’t budge, Ace spoke again, “Peyton?”

“Go away.” Peyton didn’t care that her voice was gravelly and rough. She wanted to evaporate into thin air and never be seen again.

“Peyton, Xavier told us what happened—“

Peyton snapped at that. It had been Xavier’s fault that that had happened to her. She slammed her feet down on the floor, satisfied about how the thud echoed about the room. She wrenched the door open and came face-to-face with a very shocked Ace, and a very bored Scarlett.

“Did Xavier also tell you that it was his fault that they did that to me?” Ace took a step backwards. Peyton knew she’d shouted, and that some teacher had probably heard her, but she was beyond caring.

Ace seemed at a loss for words for a second. “If it was his fault, he really didn’t mean it Peyton. He sounded really upset and asked that we look for you.”

“Tell him that it’s not appreciated, and he should leave me alone.” She started to shove past her, but Ace grabbed her arm and shoved her back.

“You’re not being fair Peyton,” she said, her green eyes sad. “We’re your friends, you can talk to us.”

“I don’t want to be fair!” She shouted, “And we aren’t friends!”

This time, when Peyton shoved past her, Ace let her go.