Children of Harrow

There are a few facts I know about my life:

One, my family stream from a non-corrupted magical blood line.

Two, I am the only child of Harrow, not to have powers.

Three, I am an orphan.

On my seventeenth birthday I was supposed to inherit power to control every element on Earth. But I have not. I have studied every ancient scripture and book that will hopefully answer my question, but none what so ever. Besides a roll of yellow tinged paper that holds a language I do not speak. But it holds the name Harrow. Someone has stolen my powers from me, robbed me of my birth right and they shall pay.

The sun poured through the classroom window like trickling syrup, its essence warming everybody. Not a cloud was pasted in the sky, it was bright sapphire blue. The whole classroom was lit up by noise and immaturity … I couldn’t understand how I had been able to cope for so many years. I leant back in my chair and kicked my feet up on the table not afraid to show off my tattered old pumps. What should people care what I wore it’s not like they are wearing them. I looked down at my blonde curling hair; it shined as the sun beamed brightly.

 Every student of MarkMill High school was shouting over the chaos, trying to talk to their friends about the weekend. I however was sat in the corner of the classroom a book perched on my lap and the old roll of yellow tinged paper lay between the book’s crevasses. My square glass, were on the tip of my nose, my head was pounding from trying to break down the words and understand them but Harrow just shone out.

I slammed the book shut in frustration and shoved it into my bag. Peeling off my glasses, I flung them into their case and snap it shut. I watched the happy souls dancing around and laughing. Mortal children have nothing to worry about besides exams and relationships. I leant back in my chair and closed my eyes, letting tiredness seep in through my bones. But something began to make my eyes twitch. I heard the rattle of the door handle and the silence fell upon the classroom. I opened my eyes and they found the trouble that lurked in the door way.

Mr Bruter, our headmaster. He had a balding spot in his head where his black hair parted from the rest. It was slick with wax, obviously in an attempt to hide the shining spot. His suit was an oily grey; it had pin stripes following it down. His nose stuck out from the rest of his face and strangely brought attention.

“Mr Jaxson is away on sick leave. It appears you lot have given him a migraine,” his voice boomed out around the room and I felt the table vibrate ever so slightly. “So a new teacher is on his way shortly. However, I have a new student which will be joining you today. I want every single one of you,” his grey eyes lingered on me as if I was an evil dragon. “To welcome him as if he was family.” Mr Bruter stepped to one side and every single head leaned to get a view of the new student. I had a feeling it was going to be one of these preppy, bouncy and squealing teenage girls. That’s what MarkMill seem to draw in.

Mr Bruter’s voice echoed across the room once more. “Make Elliott Myer welcome; otherwise you will have me to deal with.” With that he slammed the door too leaving the door frame to rattle in his wake.

I pushed my feet off the table and stood up to try and find a break point in the crowd, which was now all around Elliott. I went onto my tiptoes and only caught a bob of brown curly hair it shone in the sun just like mine. Soon the noise returned to shouting level and the crowd parted.

Elliott stood before me, his arm muscles pumping and his jaw line firm and strong. He stood in a stance that’s showed he was strong. His blue checked top clung to his torso and his leg muscles were framed by his slender jeans. His eyes were bearing down on me, as if trying to suck me into him. I saw them flow over my body and return to my face. I felt my chest pound with the beat of heart. I didn’t understand what was happening this never happens to me. Every guy I look at I know they will never be able to compete with Harrow children. Then my eyes struck his chest. Sure enough there was a loose gold chain hanging, but it was just hidden underneath his top.

I sat down and resumed my position on the table with my feet up. He smiled casually his smooth lips looking so welcoming. He came over and his eyes began to search books along the shelf. My bag was open and gaping at him like a fish. My bag was showing him all the books I had in there and my slender hand zipped my bag up. But his eyes had already etched over the title of the book that was hidden in my bag.

“A guide to Ancient scripts … never met a girl who was into ancient things before.” Elliott’s eyes sparkled as he spoke and the glittering blue was hard not to stare at. I pretended to look at my nails, my eyes examining the shine they had and the perfect whiteness of them. “Maybe I’m not like most girls.” I cursed the way my voice sounded once I had spoken. It hung in the air with heavy lust. Elliott’s smile widened, it looked like he was a little kid playing a game and I was guessing that’s what he was playing.

His hands hit the table and he leaned in so his face was inches from mine. I saw the chain dangle, just getting caught on his top. “I bet you’re not.” His eyes stuck to mine, they were eager with power. Just as he pushed himself off the table the chain came loose and swung high before hitting his chest. There lay the sign of Harrow. A pure bred eagle masked out of gold with a red gem set where it’s heart should be and it was cased with strings of gold that shaped an eye.

My eyes looked up into his and he knew that I knew.

I was supposed to be the last child of Harrow, the last one to inherit the power, but he was a secret child and he had stolen my birth right.

He knew I was going to fight so I could claim it back.