New Girl, Who?

I clutched my backpack tightly to my chest, I needed the assurance that I wasn't the only one making it into Town High.

Yep. The school's name was Town High. The building was probably built when the humans wandered there. It was old, as expected, but it was also falling apart.

It stood prominently behind the library, exuding a thousand years of great teachings. Funny how it looked older than the library. Could it be that there was some secret stuff or maybe magic — protecting the library? After all, the Owlignuses were ancient witches.

"Woah, it's a new girl!"

"She's so pretty,"

"And Heather thinks she's the prettiest, duh," A girl of my age scoffed.

I breathed deeply as I entered the school hall. I walked down the corridor with high self-esteem, ignoring the loud whispers and scoffs. It didn't make any difference to me, I was quite popular in my previous school. The only thing that made a difference was when one wonky boy pointed out the obvious, and soon, new murmurs surfaced, "She has a different hair color," He said.

It was pretty much obvious everyone had black or dark brown hair, and I, on the other hand, the total opposite. Strawberry blonde. I didn't think much about it earlier on, but as I began to familiarize myself with the town, starting with the school — I realized it was absurd they all had the same hair colors and eyes. Not one single soul stood out. Well, until me.

"Hi, I'm Sebastian, Seb for short." The nerdy boy spoke, stretching his hand forth for a handshake. Nerd alert.

I smiled at him, "I'm Debby." I said, shaking his hand.

He looked nice and free. If I was going to survive high school, I needed a minion or minions.

"You're not from around here, are you?" He asked in an inquisitive voice.

I chuckled, "No, I'm from New York City. My mom is an indigene of this town." I responded.

"Wow! That's cool. Then you must have heard of the tale?"

"Genesis' tale? Sure. My uncle narrated the tale to me yesterday. By the way, it's my second day here." I said.

"Generosasis, that's her name. Welcome to our humble town, Miss Deborah?" He asked, referring to my last name.

"Waters." I finished off.

"You're a Waters? Of course, you're a Waters. It was your mama who married an outsider, Ella Waters neé Hathaway. She came back after a failed marriage with her daughter." He said in a very accusatory tone.

"Calm your horses down, you don't speak about my mom that way." I sneered at him. Who did he think he was? Spewing a bunch of crap about my family.

He looked taken aback by my retort, "I'm sorry, it's what the folks say," He apologized.

"It's fine, and p.o.c, we left the city not because of a failed marriage but for my protection."

"Okay, but what's p.o.c?" He asked, bewildered at the foreign abbreviation.

"Point of correction, duh," I rolled my eyes at him. He chuckled, hiding away his embarrassment with a smile.

"Well, c'mon Deborah! The class starts at 9. Wait — you're in grade 11?" He asked.

"Uh…Yeah," I replied awkwardly, feeling the weight of their stares burning into me. It was as if their glares were actual daggers, but they continued to gawk unashamedly, except for one person.

He looked like he’d rather be anywhere but there, dressed in gothic punk pants and a tattered punk t-shirt, topped off with the most stunning punk boots I’d ever seen. He was just—dark, with his long black hair falling two inches below his shoulders. From my angle, it seemed like he had cigarettes perched between his lips, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that he was smoking in the school hall. I couldn’t see his face clearly, but one thing was certain—he was everything parents warned their kids about, bad news wrapped in a handsome package. Yet, for me, he was good news. It was refreshing to see someone else who stood out, just like I did, with my unique features and fashion sense.

On my first day, I’d chosen a look from Steve Madden and Nessa Barrett's fall collection—a two-piece outfit paired with my fall boots. I adorned myself with gothic jewelry, including a skull necklace and blade earrings.

Yep, we matched in our rebellious styles.

"Debby?! Can I call you that?" The brown-haired boy whisper-yelled, breaking me from my thoughts.

"Of course, everyone calls me that," I replied enthusiastically. He was a nice person, at least — he was the first person that spoke to me, others just stared at me like I was some sort of alien sent to disrupt their peace. Like I had two heads or maybe two butts. I laughed, of course, I had two butts, just like everyone else.

He looked like he was my age, a couple of inches taller than me with a lean frame. He had dark brown hair and black eyes, eye-rimmed glasses, and ugh! His clothing? He lacked a sense of style. He paired his last season's all-star shoes with faded brown pants. His over-worn sweatshirt couldn't hide the fact that it had seen better, much better days.

If he could replace his big eye-rimmed glasses with medicated contacts, and if he was a little bit stylish — he could be considered hot, with his features and of course lean frame. He didn't look like it, but ripped muscles seemed to be peeking out from beneath the surface of his baggy sweats. He was almost — my type only if he was less nerd-ish and more street-ish.

He smirked when he noticed my distraction.

"That's my brother, ignore him. He doesn't talk to anyone, not even me." Now I could see why he was kind of hot. I hadn't seen his brother's face, but from Seb's features, I could tell he was undeniably hot. Very hot and dark. Mysterious too.

"What?!" I chuckled awkwardly, covering my flustered cheeks with my hands.

"It's okay, all the girls here are attracted to him," He said, telling me with his dark orbs that he understood why I was so entranced with his brother.

‘You're hot too,’ I wanted to tell him, maybe assure him, but couldn't bring myself to say the words that seemed stuck in my throat. So I let it slide.

"Not me, he just looks different and I'm a curious birdie," I defended myself.

He nodded his head, but his eyes told me he didn't believe any words I said.

Although he didn't push it.

"I've got my schedule, you're in 11th grade too?" I asked, needing someone — precisely him, to be in the same class as I was.

"Yeah, sure. Let's hurry. You don't wanna feed the owls on your first day?"

"What do you mean by, feed the owls?" I air-quoted the last three words.

"It's just a punishment nobody likes," He said, shrugging off his shoulders.

"Okay," I mumbled in a small voice.

"You don't wanna feed the owls. I repeat, you don't wanna feed the owls!" He warned, laughing out loud. His laughter couldn't make it past the loud gossip.

He playfully bumped my shoulder with his, dragging me from the apparent whispers that weren't ending anytime soon. Hopefully, in a day — week?

I glanced one more time at the mysterious boy, he was still in the same spot, clearly oblivious to everything happening around him. Close but so far away from the world. It was like he was in his little world. Away from the stupid tales, rumor has it, folks, and of course, high-school students. Biggest set of monsters.