There’s only a two year difference between my sister Wilhelmina and I, but we look nothing alike. She is a complete replica of mom, and I am almost a complete replica of dad. The only physical feature we share is our foxy hazel eyes. It stops there.
Wilma has bone straight, waist length chocolate brown hair that reaches midway down her back like a glossy waterfall. Although I had a few considerable inches over her, the height difference isn’t that apparent and she’s curvier with –as she puts it; heavier bones.
She sits in the waiting room of the principal’s office, wearing my stolen white beret, like how a part-time model might sit at a coffee shop, relaxing. The only thing out of place in her uniform is the blood-speckled blouse and the bloody handkerchief in her hands she’d used to clean what I hope, despite knowing for a fact, is not her blood. Just to make sure, I move to her, nodding at the handkerchief.
She shakes her he
Miss Irene gives Wilma and I a scathing look that silently says ‘get out of this administrative block.’ I grab my leather jacket and shrug it on, noticing that the injured boy —Wilma’s “victim” is nowhere in sight. Nurse’s office or on his way to change schools? I hope it’s the latter. Coldly, I brush off William’s presence, putting him in the same category as the other boys although my skin feels hot and prickly from the mere recollection of the dream and his gaze on me.“Come on.” I beckon Wilma with me.She gets to her feet obediently, grabbing her headphones and rose-patterned school backpack. She offers Miss Irene a polite smile and an equally polite goodbye.I don’t.The second we’re out of earshot and in the hallway, I swivel to face my sister. “Did he deserve it?” I demand, folding my arms and staring her down.“Yes.” She replies immediatel
Acadia Academy’s cafeteria is about the size of a football field. It had been built large enough to contain all the students from year one to year three back when the rules were more rigid and students were strictly required to eat at the exact time food was served. Now, barely anyone eats in the cafeteria. Half the crowd that filled the rectangular mahogany tables are there for the passing of daily gossip or to catch up with the friends they didn’t have classes with.The food isn’t exactly horrible, but after about three years of eating at the same place, and rotating the same twenty or so meals, you get tired and sick of it all –even if they are five stars restaurant worthy dishes. I’m a terrible cook, and the student kitchens are literally another circle of hell. Of course we could order food, but that took forever to get here since Acadia Academy is so detached from civilization. On my best days, I join Bibah in the kitchens and help keep her company as she does all the work. On m
Akio’s expression turns smug and he circles the cake under my nose enticingly. I try to make a grab for it but his reflexes are faster than the speed of light. With a self-satisfied smirk, he takes a ginormous bite, smoothing the sparse cluster of hairs on his upper lip that he likes to call a mustache.I imitate the sound of a clipper and mimic shaving his mustache. He shifts back; putting a seat between us and truly looking horrified.Bibah simply shakes her head at our childish shenanigans and takes a sip of her iced latte, metal straw clinking in the Hydro Flask. “The Awoo Book Club’s pick for this week is H.P Lovecraft.” She pats the voluminous book atop the pile and I notice it’s the library copy of H.P Lovecraft’s Omnibus 3. “I’m so excited to roast his ass.”“You’re excited to roast a dead man’s ass.” Akio laughs, swinging his long legs on the seat he’d vacated seconds ag
One of the many things Acadia Academy prides itself on is the magnificence and efficiency of its main library. Like the rest of the gothic structure, it’s lavish and extravagant in its architecture. Stained glass windows floor to ceiling that let in a stream of dimmed natural light. Bookshelves three storey high with a spiraling wooden staircase and railings of carved bronze. The pillars are made of ivory, the ceiling vaulted, the floor made of reflective brown tiles shiny enough to be a light source of its own. The whole library is massive, whimsical and enchanting; something straight out of a fairytale. The smell of old and new books alike mix with the smell of polish, leather, and varnish. It’s cold, so I pull my leather jacket tighter around me.And the silence is so empty it echoes through your consciousness; mind-numbing. Even the humming of the air conditioners seems to fade and hush into an ambiance that’s maddening.I don’t mind silence
“Why are you here, really?”I contemplate his question for a moment, debating with myself if I should be truthful and straight to the point or crafty with my inquiry. But it’s hard to form a coherent thought with William’s eyes pinning me.“Do you want me to help you keep your scholarship?”The question takes him off-guard like I had anticipated it would. His eyes widen before he blinks the surprise away, his jaw going taut. He glances around at the tables near us, very much within earshot considering I hadn’t bothered to keep my voice down when I spoke. Taking a deep, strained breath, he gets to his feet, shoving his phone into the pocket of his hoodie.A small flash of panic shoots through me, making my voice go defensive —something I abhor. “Principal Choi said if they—“He grabs my shoulder and pulls me to my feet like I might’ve been made of paper or something even lighter. I try to jerk away my arm, but his grip is iron-clad. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” I demand,
My hands stop shaking when I make it to English class. Students are already filing in, the exhaustion of the day creeping into their faces and their sluggish movements although the afternoon has barely started. I hang back a little, searching the crowds for Bibah or Evin. I find neither. Instead, a heavy hand wraps around my shoulder, and the million dollar cologne alone tells me it’s Ben. I glance up at him sideways, not even bothering to offer a smile because I know it’ll look like I’ve swallowed a cracker fished out of an unflushed toilet. “For once our golden boy is early to English class.” I comment as I swat away the hand he tries to ruffle my hair with. “It’s once in a blue moon that football practice gets canceled early.” He replies, stealthily snaking his other hand towards my hair. “A good thing since I get to see more of my golden girl.” I smack the other hand away. He pouts, and somewhere in the heavens a baby cupid sighs because he’s oh so dreamy. I know, I see it all
“What John Steinbeck was trying to convey in Of Mice and Men wasn’t just moral dilemma. He explores themes of human nature and the line between right and wrong and how sometimes it gets blurry. Most people consider it a sad, depressing novel, which it is, but really, it’s more of Steinbeck bravely showing a side of human nature that man often times refuses to see. It’s like when we read Beowulf. Page ninety-six, last few lines of the second paragraph, he writes and I quote; ‘The men raced around the last stall. Their eyes found Curley’s wife in the gloom, they stopped and stood still and looked.’ At this point we can feel the collective grief of the men poring out of the page, we can see them knowing…” Miss Patricia Tartt drones on. With a dagger to my throat, I can’t tell you what exactly she is trying to explain in Of Mice and Men. I don’t think anyone in the class can. No one is paying attention. And it’s not like I haven't read the book. I’d stayed up at night, I’d ditched a part
The only class I look forward to on Mondays is combat training. Acadia believes in teaching it’s students not only how to fit into a general society that’s oblivious to the existence of werewolves, but also how to defend themselves. In combat training, my body is more than an object. It’s a weapon; the fishtail braid, the combat joggers, the long-sleeved crewneck. Teach me how to kill a man any day.“At ease!”I drop my arms and straighten my spine, focusing on regulating my breathing. On my left, Vahini Singh pants like an exhausted bulldog. On my right, Andy Rogers is gripping the arm of the boy next to him, struggling not to pass out. I roll my eyes. Yes the training drills are rigorous, but they’re not that excruciatingly hard.The burn and sore from my muscles begin to dull; my body naturally restoring itself to a stable condition just as Gojo Sensei passes our row. He gives a slight nod of approval at my stamina compared to the rest of the weaklings on my drill team, and I feel
I can't help the grin as it stretches across my face. Even when I tone down my teeth display for the camera, my giddiness makes my grin return to its full glory.These are the kind of joyful moments in life when everything aligns perfectly, and the future gleams with a brilliance that outshines the sun.Similar to tiny fireflies, the fairy lights surrounding us emit a soft glow in the approaching evening. My gaze shifts to the rows of people smiling and mingling, the white roses gathered in their transparent vases, the band playing an old classical melody that Akio Kamio has cherished for most of his life, and ultimately to Bibah's radiant smile, outshining even the stars in the sky.Bibah stands gracefully in her wedding gown, a vision of elegance and modesty. The gown's creamy hue complements her radiant complexion, and the intricate lace patterns and delicate beadwork trace enchanting designs across the fabric.Her head is adorned with a delicate hijab, carefully draped to frame her
The idea of dying... it's like staring into a dark abyss, wondering what lies beyond. Am I ready for it? Is anyone ever truly prepared to let go of everything they know? It's as if life is this intricate tapestry, woven with memories, experiences, and dreams, and death is that final thread that could unravel it all.I've heard people say that death gives life meaning. That the inevitability of our mortality forces us to seize the fleeting moments and savor them. Is that why we laugh, love, and strive to make a mark? To counteract the impending darkness?But what if it's not about the mark we leave, but the mark we've made on ourselves? Like, how every heartbreak, triumph, and mistake molds us into this intricate sculpture of a person. And maybe death is the moment when we step back and see the whole masterpiece.It's terrifying, though. The unknown. The thought of losing consciousness, of the world carrying on without me. Will I be forgotten? Will my laughter fade into the wind, like
The mountain top stretches out before us, bathed in the silvery glow of the moonlight. Jagged rocks and hardy shrubs dot the landscape, offering scarce cover. The air is crisp and thin, carrying with it a sense of anticipation. A veil of darkness conceals the treacherous precipices that lie beyond the edges.My heart races as we stand on the precipice, the night sky a blanket of twinkling stars above. The wind whispers of secrets yet to be revealed, as William's gaze scans the vast expanse. This was the kind of place he used to love—a rooftop under the sky.His eyes narrow, a flicker of recognition passing over his features, like a spark trying to ignite a long-dormant memory. I hold my breath, hoping that this moment will be the catalyst, the key to unlocking the past he's lost.Before my thoughts can fully settle, a guttural shout splits the air, shattering the tranquility. My head snaps towards the disturbance, and my heart lurches as seven figures emerge from the shadows, armed wi
“Are you sure this is the place?”“Absolutely.” I whisper back at William, uneasily glancing around the empty expanse of the beach. It feels like we’re about to break into a bank and steal cash. “Unless she invited me for breakfast in a friend’s apartment, then I guess we’ll be knocking on a strangers door.” I add in a rush of huffed out breath.William looks skeptic. “Isabe-”I step forward and press the ringer, cutting off William’s words. Time had passed us by while on the boat, and now it’s past the normal curfew of the resort. The demarcated areas outside the resort -including the mountain we’d impulsively decided to go to- were now closed off for the day. Since Tamie has been here her whole life and her family owns the resort and I somewhat feel as if we’re friends now, I thought that maybe asking for her help would be a good idea.Silence continues to answer me.“Mochi definitely came out of here.” I mutter, frowning at the whole modern shack like it had personally offended me.
“Maybe we should call it a win win and stop here.” I suggest, leaning back as the last few chuckles escape me, my laughter finally subsiding.William raises a triumphant eyebrow as he rearranges the chess pieces back to their normal starting formation. “Giving up already?” He taunts, smirking.“You wish.” I reply, rolling my eyes before sighing. “I’m just tired of staring at the pieces.”We have been playing cheating chess since after breakfast when I got back to the suite from my conversation and walk with Tamie. William had brought his chess board along from the pack estate, and had suggested we play it, in hopes that he might remember something again. There has been no luck in that area, but at the very least, we’ve had an unexplainable amount of fun as the hours flew by. We fixate on morals of the game, creating new rules, and finding more ridiculous ways to justify breaking the classical rules of chess.The sun is setting now, painting our beach-side view of the window a brillian
The very next morning, I wake up early, get out of the ball dress I ended up sleeping in, and took a quick shower, changing into more comfortable beach shorts and a loose tank top.When I leave the bedroom, William is still curled up in the sheets, sleeping. I call the room service and other an elaborate breakfast, hoping to return the heartwarming gesture he had done to me when we got here.Out of the breakfast of waffles, fruits, and a jug of a fancy cocktail blend fresh from the Island’s own produce, I only manage a single waffle before leaving the suite and closing the door softly behind me.Now, where the heck do I start looking for Tamie?I go out to the beach, taking the trail where William and I had first seen her walking her Pekingese dog. Well, more like where we saw her dog about to drown and rescued him.It’s a sunny day, the sand warm as the soft, fine grains slip in and out my flip flops. The ocean’s waves laps eagerly at the shore, and I squint into the far distance, in
Leaving the chaotic ballroom behind, we retreat to the quiet safety of our room. The tension of the night still lingers between us, though now it's wrapped in a cocoon of slight awkwardness.William doesn’t say anything, still steaming with remnants of his anger, and neither do I, as we enter the bedroom and he shrugs off his jacket. I notice a few specs of blood staining the front part of his white shirt.“You shouldn’t have done that.” I sigh, retrieving a first aid kit from a nearby drawer, sitting him down at the edge of the bed and gently begin tending to the cut on William's lip, my touch both soothing and reproachful.He winces at the disinfectant that touches the small split flesh where the silver rings had made impact."Oh, now you can feel pain?" I chide softly, dabbing the wound with an antiseptic swab. "Stop being such a baby. I know you were defending me, but there are better ways you could’ve handled the situation."Like poisoning the bastard.Or gutting him in a dark al
We spend the rest of the night and the following day simply talking and exploring. William asks a lot of questions about our time in Acadia Academy, and I try my hardest to answer him to the best of my ability, although none of my answers end up triggering his memory.Soon, the night of the ball arrives.Preparing for the ball is a whirlwind of anticipation and excitement. The vibrant energy that courses through me is infectious as I carefully choose my attire for the evening; my makeup already done and my hair painstakingly pinned up into an updo. The dress, a delicate masterpiece of flowing midnight blue silk, shimmers with an iridescent glow in the soft light of our suite. Its off-shoulder neckline adds a touch of elegance, and the intricate lacework along the bodice and hem hints at the craftsmanship that went into its creation. With every twirl in front of the mirror, I feel like a character from a fairytale.I don’t even remember when I bought the dress.The air is electric as I
I gradually stir from my peaceful slumber, the room cast in a gentle twilight as the sun dips below the horizon.I yawn.How long have I been asleep?As I stretch and sit up, I notice a beautifully arranged plate of dinner on the nearby table and a goofy smile overtakes my face. William must’ve kept it there for me. I glance around the bedroom and the living room for the second time, looking for him, but I don’t spot him anywhere.Where did he go?My stomach rumbles in response to the inviting aroma of the garlic butter stake and potato skillet, and I find myself savoring the delicious flavors as I sit at the edge of the bed with the tray and devour the food.Sated and content, I decide to take advantage of the cool evening air and to also look for William. I change out of my t-shirt and jeans into sleeping shorts and a bralette, despite the cool weather. The sliding glass door leads me to the terrace, where the world is adorned with the soft glow of moonlight. My gaze is drawn to the