Chapter 2

Bronwen

I go to school on Monday, dreading it even more than usual. Only a few more months until I graduate and I am counting down the days. Then I'm going to get as far away from this New England town as I can. I walk through the double doors, my steps laden with unease. I make it to my locker without any remarks being made towards me which feels like an accomplishment of sorts. I feel hopeful like I might actually survive the day.

No such luck.

“Oh look. It's little Bronwen James.” A voice drawls behind me, bursting my little fantasy bubble of having a good day. Not freaking likely.

“Little? Yeah right." I hear a derisive scoff. "Look at the fat ass. There is nothing little about the cow.” Maci says with a sneer. She and her friends cackle, reminding me of the witches in those old cheesy movies. It has a definite 'he-he-he' quality to it that is about as kind to the ears as nails on a chalkboard.

I duck my head and move away from them, heading to class. I have so many things I wish I could say, but I know that if I talk back to her, she'll only make my life a living hell. It is so much easier to just tune it out and ignore them. I have worked really hard over the years to be able to ignore the things they say. To not take their cruel and hurtful words to heart. I know Maci is just a bitter person who gets her jollies by tormenting others. Her friends are just middle school losers who gained popularity by being her friend and they are afraid that if they don't go along with everything that she says or does, they will get kicked back to the curb.

I make it to my seat in English class without any more encounters and I take my seat in the back. My morning classes pass by as they usually do, but I keep hearing about some new kids in school. I wonder what all the hype is about. They have really got everyone buzzing with excitement. What about these kids make them such a big deal? Not that anyone would tell me even if I was dumb enough to ask. I am pretty much persona non grata around the school.

At lunch, I'm sitting in the library alone, as I do every day. It is usually just me and Mrs. Meyers in here. As I am eating my bag of vending machine pretzels that might have been fresh twenty years ago, I hear Maci and her friends laughing like hyenas. I roll my eyes. The sound echoes through the quiet room and I can't stand it anymore. I stand up, grabbing my book and the bag of disgusting pretzel bits. Her voice is seriously horrible. I would rather drive rusty nails into my eardrums than listen to her stupid laugh. In the quiet of this room, it's even worse because it's magnified and with a slight echo.. it should literally be classified as a means of torture because I am feeling pretty dang tormented by the sound.

I see them by the main entrance and I don't want to pass by them, so I move through the rows of shelves, out of sight. To get to the back entrance that is never used, I have to walk a long way, going past the unused sections. The library is a large, two-story room inside of a massive school building. I feel like I have been walking miles, weaving in and out of aisles of books. It is really dark back here in the back of the room and I have to admit, as much as this library is one of my favorite places, it is a little creepy in this unused part, with the dim lighting and cobwebs.

I duck around the corner quickly, trying to make my escape as fast as I can. My head is down and I am trying to calm my breathing when I suddenly slam into what feels like a brick wall. I drop my book, my purse, and the bag of half-eaten pretzels as I fall backward, landing with an undignified thud on the floor. “Ow.”

From my spot on the floor, my eyes are level with his knees. I look at the legs in front of me, encased in dark jeans. My eyes travel upwards over a white t-shirt and a black leather jacket. By the time my eyes reach the face attached to the body, I am already hot and bothered. But when I see just how gorgeous he is, I catch my breath. Pale, creamy skin beneath black, curly hair falling over his forehead. His bright blue eyes rest beneath thick eyelashes and thicker brows. He has a sharp nose, chiseled jaw, and the most kissable lips I have ever seen.

He is scowling at me though and the rush of attraction I felt turns to alarm. I automatically scoot backward, nervously looking away from the perfection of him. He is so intense. I can't quite explain it, but he makes every nerve ending in my body tingle. “I am so sorry.”

I rise to my knees, hastily shoving everything into my purse. The pretzel bits, the empty bag, and all the contents of my purse. I spot a pencil a few inches away and even though I'm sure it's not mine, I grab it and tuck it in my purse too, just to have something to do with my hands. When he doesn't respond my embarrassment and remorse only get worse. “I didn't mean to bump into you. I really am sorry.”

When I have everything in my bag, I stand up. He is still watching me and I am more than a little freaked out by his unwavering focus on me. I back up, looking away. I see the exit behind him and I sigh in relief. Pushing my hair behind my ear, I go to move past him, but when he doesn't move, I stop. What is wrong with him? “Excuse me? I am, um, I'm going that way.” I point past him, slowly moving forward. “Sorry.”

“You apologize too much.”

His deep voice rings out, sending a shiver of awareness down my spine. Shit, even his voice is sexy. “Sorry,” I say without thinking.

He just watches me with his peculiar gaze never leaving my face. “You're anxious right now. Nervous around me. I make you uncomfortable. When we collided, you acted as if I were going to put you before the firing squad.” As he speaks, he watches me closely for my reaction to his soft accusation.

I stammer. “I am not- I- I mean..” The stammering is pretty much proving his point, which irritates me to no end. I huff out a breath and straighten my spine. “Well, it seems to me that you are going out of your way to make me uncomfortable, so honestly, isn't this the reaction you expected from me? I'm just playing into whatever it is that you are doing here.” I am surprised by my audacity in speaking to him. Especially with attitude. I don't usually talk to the other students at school, especially not guys, preferring to keep my head down and just try to get through each day.

I must be imagining the glint in his eyes that resembles humor because he says with no emotion. “I never expect anything from anyone. To have expectations is to invite disappointment.”

“Great philosophy to live by. I grew up on disappointment, so I find a strange sort of comfort in it.” I remark. I walk past him, but his words stop me.

“Who were you hiding from, just now?” He asks me curiously.

“The blonde bimbo and her merry band of bitches.” I remark, nodding my head towards Maci and her friends.

“You mean, my sister and my cousins?” He demands with a scowl.

I feel all the blood drain from my face and I am mortified. “Oh my gosh, I am so sorry. I didn't mean- I have no idea why I said that!” I stammer. "I did not mean to insult your family members-"

The guy bursts out laughing, the sound rusty; as if he never does it. “I'm just messing with you!” He laughs harder. “You should see your face.” He has a huge grin, that makes him look even more attractive but I don't take the time to enjoy it. Now that he's distracted by his little joke, I can make my getaway.

“Well, this has been fun...” I drawl sarcastically, moving towards the exit.

“I didn't get your name.” He remarks from behind me.

“And now you never will.”

A few days later I am sitting by the fountain in front of the school, doing my homework when a girl walks by. I don't even look up until she stops and says. “Wow, dark.”

I finally cut my eyes upwards to find a girl about my age, with long black hair and pale white skin. She has dark eyes, that look almost black. “Excuse me?” I ask, confused.

“Your picture.” She says, nodding to my sketchbook laying beside me. I look at the gruesome picture and look back at her. “Yeah, I know. But with such dark subject matter,” I gesture to the book in my lap, “I guess I was inspired.”

“The Salem Witch Trials is a dark subject to touch on.” The girl remarks.

“But since we live in Massachusetts and it's kind of like our 'claim to fame' we have to do reports on it, every year around this time. This is my ninth report on the witch trials.” I say. Every Halloween is when we study this fascinating subject. I feel myself being drawn to the violence and misery of the stories. Morbid, I know, but I can't seem to help myself. It just fascinates me to no end.

“The picture is incredible.” The girl sits down beside me. “May I take a closer look?”

I hesitate before I hand her the book. I have never shown anyone other than Alec my work before. She studies the picture, running her hand over the scene lightly as if she is afraid her touch would somehow ruin the image. In the drawing, I depicted a colonial woman being hung as her family weeps at her feet. Children with tears on their scrunched-up faces. A man, his head bowed, his body bent over with grief. It's one of the better pictures that I've drawn and I'm kind of proud of it.

“It is so realistic.” She breathes, running her fingers over the page softly. “It's like you took a photo of them. You capture their grief so well. It almost hurts to look at their faces, I can feel their pain.” She quietly remarks. She looks up at me, eyes shining. “It is amazing.”

“Thank you.” She hands the book back to me and I smile at her.

“Okay. This might sound weird, but like, do you want to be friends? Everyone else that I have met here are, um, how to put this nicely?” She puts a finger to her chin in thought. “Douche bags. Everyone I have met has either been a d-bag, a bitch, or sleaze.”

I'm a little shocked at her words. Then suspicious. She approached me and asked to be my friend? I'm definitely getting freshman year flashbacks. “Um, is this a joke? Were you dared to ask me to be friends?”

“What?” The girl locks genuinely shocked. “No!” She must realize that she's gotten ahead of herself because she stands up and paces in front of me. She pauses mid-step and gives me a sudden grin. “By the way, the name is Morana.”

“Bronwen.”

“I love it! Awesome name!” She says before she resembles pacing. “So, has someone really tried to be friends with you as a joke? Because that is some straight-up bullshit.”

I want to tell her about before but if this is some kind of cruel joke, why give this girl more cannon fodder to use against me. “Yeah, it is.”

“The picture. Who was the inspiration?” She asks, suddenly. Switching tactics so quickly that's I'm confused.

“What?”

“Martha Carrier?” She asks and I nod. “The Heretic's Daughter is a really good read.”

“It is.” I agree. I have never met another person who knew about it, better yet cared. “I have always been drawn to the trials, even before it become subject matter for homework. I've always felt drawn to dark subjects and the lore of old. The morbid side of life, I guess you could say.”

“Ha! I know all about the morbid side of life.” Morana laughs at some private joke that only she knows. “Sounds to me like we have so much in common that we are destined to be great friends.”

I have to admit, I like her. She really doesn't seem anything like the other kids in school. “Yeah, it does.” I agree.

She lets out a little sound of excitement and comes back to flop down beside me. “Really? We're friends?”

So strange. Why she would care if we are friends or not is beyond me, but since she is the only person offering to be my friend, I need to strike while the iron is hot, as the saying goes. “Yeah, we're friends.”

“Great! It has been so long since I had a friend, you have no idea!” She grins at me. “When do you want to hang out? Today?”

“Um.. We can. Where?” Please not my house. I don't want to have to come up with some excuse.

“How about your house?” She asks with a smile. “My siblings kind of suck, so I hate to be at mine.”

“My dad kind of sucks, so I feel the same way. At least my brother is awesome.” I tell her.

“My brother is the only one I get along with too. He's.. different. A bit of a handful, but we get along really well.” She tells me.

“Cool. Well, I walk home after school.” I say to her.

She jumps up. “I'll drive us. Meet back here after classes?”

I nod and she rushes away. That girl has more energy than I know what to do with. I sit bemused, long after she leaves me. I finally have a friend but I'm not sure I can handle her. I grin, standing up to go to class. I have the feeling my life is about to get just a little more exciting.