Author: MasterAssassin2012 PM
When Breanna Erela ends up with the new, yet mysterious, Michael Prince as her table partner; she realizes that there is something different about Michael and is determined to find out what he's hiding. But when she learns the truth, she realizes that Michael is something more than human. And she is drawn into his world, a world she once thought that belonged to the Bible.Rated: Fiction T - English - Romance/Fantasy - Chapters: 9 - Words: 24,354 - Reviews: 21 - Favs: 6 - Follows: 9 - Updated: 02-20-13 - Published: 09-29-12 - id: 3061896
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
I walked into my fourth hour Philosophy class when I looked at the chalkboard and almost let a groan escape my lips. We were starting the philosophical works and interpretations of the Bible. I believe that there is a God, but not a Hell. I mean, if God is supposed to be this all-powerful and forgiving being, why would Hell even exist? I walked to my table and waited for my best friend, Arianna Kingsley to walk in.
Right on schedule, Arianna walked in with five seconds to spare. Not that it mattered. Our teacher, Mr. Brandt, was always late. Arianna smiled as she sat down next to me. Philosophy was my worst class; I only took it so Arianna and I would have at least one class together and I was starting to regret saying "Yes". However, Arianna was somehow getting an "A" in this class while I was barely scraping by with a "C". Thankfully, Arianna was a good tutor.
"So, did you get last night's homework done?" Arianna asked me.
I looked at Arianna. We know each other's deepest secrets and fears; we could pass as sisters if we wanted because we knew so much about each other, but Arianna looks nothing like me.
Arianna has the body and build of a swimmer, her hair dark blonde and ice blue eyes. Whereas I preferred to avoid athletics—I do run every day before and after school—and I have bronze coloured hair and hazel eyes.
I opened my notebook and showed Arianna my work. She smiled in approval. Two minutes later, Mr. Brandt walked in with a cart filled with copies of the Bible.
Mr. Brandt was in his mid-thirties and had no life. Don't get me wrong, he's a great teacher, but he didn't know when to stop teaching.
Arianna let an audible sigh escape her mouth and she closed her eyes. If only I could copy such confidence and get away with it. But nope, I'm a self-conscious teenager.
"You know, this class would be better if we actually learned something other than Latin. I didn't exactly sign up for that," Arianna grumbled.
I didn't argue. We learn more Latin terms in one hour than a college class probably does in one semester.
"Last I checked, I was forced to take this class… And besides, you chose to take this class," I reminded Arianna. "Your parents are professors! You shouldn't have a problem with this class."
She opened her eyes to glare at me.
"Okay class, time for a change," Mr. Brandt said.
We all groaned. We hated this part of the class. Mr. Brandt is always changing things up and making them more complicated than they should be. He would make an excellent math teacher or professor. Except, to him, two plus two equals some strange equation that shouldn't exist.
I lowered my head to my arms and closed my eyes, my temples beginning to throb. I suffered from occasional migraines or, as the doctor calls it, chronic migraines. And sadly, there is no cure. After a few seconds, it was gone, but I kept my head down, waiting for Arianna to begin the argument.
"None of that groaning or complaining! Now, for the past few weeks I've seen how everyone interacts with one another. I decided that there is going to be a new seating chart."
No one said a word.
"That's not fair!" Arianna blurted.
That took her a while to respond. I kept my head down and waited for the gavel to slam down and make it official; that Arianna has lost yet another argument.
"'The only sense that is common in the long run, is the sense of change—and we all instinctively avoid it,' E.B. White," Mr. Brandt quoted.
Everyone closed their books as Mr. Brandt cleared his throat. After the room had quieted down, Mr. Brandt clapped his hands twice. I lifted my head, rested my chin on my arms and looked at him.
"I want everyone on the left—that's your left—to move one seat up."
"This is torture," Arianna grumbled as she packed up her books and left.
I shrugged and snuck a peek behind me. I knew all my classmates… except one. The transfer. Mr. Brandt always called on him, but always used his last name. Come on! What was his last name? The transfer got up from his seat and walked gracefully over, setting his books down on the table as he sat in Arianna's old spot.
I never really looked at the guy, but now that he was mere inches from me, looking down at his textbook, I stared. I couldn't see his face very well, but I didn't need to, to know that it was perfect, symmetrical. My eyes traveled downward and even though he was wearing a plain white t-shirt, I could see the lean muscles that lie underneath the fabric. He must work out every day. Everything about him was perfect, right down to the messy golden blonde hair that seemed to stop just at his collar, and his amber eyes. I swore he was carved from the heavens.
He smiled slightly and I dropped my gaze. I opened my notebook when Mr. Brandt walked over and put a Bible in front of us. After Mr. Brandt left, I found the new guy looking at me. His amber eyes stared right through me, making me shiver involuntarily.
"Perhaps we should know each other's names if we are going to be working together." He smiled, his voice warm and smooth.
"My name is Breanna Erela," I squeaked, my voice suddenly wanting to go hide in a hole.
"Michael. Michael Prince," he replied.
"N-Nice to meet you!" I stammered.
Michael nodded and took the Bible, opening it to a passage in the Book of Exodus and began reading.
"Can I call you Mike?" I asked with a light tone of voice, hoping to see him smile again.
Michael closed the Bible and looked over at me. His once soft gaze hardened within a second. I nearly fell off my stool in surprise, and fear.
"I prefer to be called Michael," he said flatly.
As he said those words, I swore I saw a sliver of silver run through the amber in his eyes. Another minor headache pounded through my skull and I clutched my head and waited for it to be over. No amount of painkillers could dull the pain so I had decided to just tough it out. After the headache passed I took a few small breaths before speaking again.
"Sorry, I was just curious," I whispered, blushing slightly.
Michael looked at me for a moment and then nodded, opened the Bible, and continued to read, but it seemed he was more interested in something else.
"Um… We need to share that..." I muttered.
Michael sighed—maybe in irritation—closed the Bible again and handed it to me.
"The Bible is a comforting read for me," he admitted as he took out his notebook.
I scoffed at that.
Michael only smiled thinly at me and for some reason, it scared me. He didn't answer me and I didn't think he was planning on answering me anyway.
"Are you religious?" he asked.
"N-No," I lied.
Michael only nodded. When the lecture began, I started taking notes. By the time I looked up again, there was ten minutes left of class. Mr. Brandt was one of those "teach till the bell" kind of teachers.
"Does he ever stop?" someone muttered from behind me.
I smirked and closed my notebook. I looked at Michael and saw that he was writing things down… in Latin. What the heck? I didn't let it bother me and I waited until the bell.
Ten minutes later the bell rang and, to my surprise, Michael was the first one out the door, even though he hadn't packed his things up. I frowned as I got off my seat and left the room. I sighed and realized that I might have more classes with the guy.
However, since my class—class of 2013—was the smallest class to date (only 513 students) I was bound to have class with Michael again. I thought back to my first three hours.
I sighed. Only fourth hour and lunch I shared with Michael. However, my last three classes I would have to check. Half of me wanted to have class with him again, so I could ask—demand—what his problem is, and the other half just wanted to see him again. Arianna didn't walk with me. She must have something else going on.
I was at my locker when I heard Arianna walk up to me. Her face told me what her mouth couldn't.
"Nicole was removed from the meet roster," Arianna muttered darkly.
Nicole Presley, perhaps one of the only normal girls here. She was smart, nice, an athlete, and an all around good person. I met her through Arianna. That's where Arianna went a few minutes ago.
"Why?" I asked as I shoved my Philosophy text book into my locker.
"She got a B+ on her Calculus test! A flipping B+!"
I frowned for a moment. When was a B+ ever a bad thing? But I knew better. Nicole's parents were well-known in the school, and thanks to that, Nicole had to keep that reputation up. Unfortunately, her parents didn't approve that she would stray from the academic world and go into athletics. I also knew better than to ask Arianna because I would get an earful after school.
"That's great!" I said.
Arianna shook her head. I'm not that good at acting.
"Her parents think swimming is going to ruin her chance at getting into Harvard or something," Arianna said matter-of-factly.
I grabbed my paper bag lunch, slammed my locker closed, and walked to the cafeteria with Arianna, who was fuming about what happened. I could see why Arianna would be mad, but what can you do when your parents call the shots? I'd be lucky if I ever got in trouble. My mom is always around, but my dad… My dad passed away when I was five. He was killed in a car accident; head-on collision.
"Have you talked with Mrs. Jens?" I asked, trying to pull myself out of the depressing thoughts of my deceased dad.
(Mrs. Jens is the Athletic Director for our school.)
"Yeah, I walked by earlier and saw her talking with Nicole's parents."
"And?" I pressed.
"She said that she'd talk to them. Nicole is more than just a swimmer. She's a track runner, basketball player... She does every sport she can!"
We arrived at our lunch table a few minutes later and Nicole came by, her eyes puffy and her jaw set. She was pissed.
"Can I join you?" she asked, her voice trembling in rage.
"Sure," I smiled.
Nicole sat down and groaned.
"My parents are insane! One B+ and I'm not swimming in the meet tonight!" Nicole groaned.
That was Arianna's area of expertise. I took a bite out of my apple and listened to the conversation.
"Harvard isn't the school I want to go to! I don't want to be a lawyer like my family. I want to be a physical therapist or something that involves sports! I'd love to be a swim coach, but the job doesn't pay much. I've taken all AP classes, my G.P.A is through the roof, and a few scouts were at our meet last week to watch me. Swimming is my stress reliever and my home away from home."
I let my gaze wander around the cafeteria. I watched as the jocks mumbled to each other about the upcoming game and probable injuries, the cheerleaders gossiping, pretty much your standard high school cafeteria.
In the back of the cafeteria, Michael Prince was sitting in his usual spot, away from the other students, his eyes closed, leaning back with his arms crossed over his chest. He had a thin smile on his lips. I noticed a thin outline of a necklace under his shirt and began to wonder why he wouldn't show it off. I mean, his parents must be loaded.
Looking at Michael from a distance, he didn't seem like a hardcore weightlifter. There was something in his features that made him look almost boyish in comparison. But there was no mistaking the lean muscle that was under his white t-shirt.
As if he knew I was looking, Michael opened his eyes and stared directly at me. I did a double take because I thought I saw silver slide through his eyes, again. Another headache passed through my skull and I clenched my teeth together to prevent myself from whimpering out loud, all the while, Michael never took his gaze off of me.
"Earth to Breanna, you okay?" Arianna asked, snapping her fingers in front of my face.
I turned around, blushing slightly.
"I'm fine," I mumbled.
"Well, Michael Prince is looking this way… What did you say to him last hour?" Nicole asked.
I shrugged. Nicole, Arianna, and I continued to eat and talk and surprisingly enough, Arianna and Nicole tried explaining the whole "rush" you get when you swim competitively. The entire time, I felt as though someone was staring at me. Before I knew it, the bell rang, dismissing us to the last three hours of the school day. I kept my eyes alert for Michael.
AP Writers Workshop?
I'd only have to deal with Michael Prince for one hour a day. After gym class I went to my locker and grabbed my bag and homework. I could barely hear Arianna run over to me, wearing her team warm up jacket, a pair of sweatpants, sandals, and beneath those clothes I could make out the swim suit.
"Hey! Good luck tonight!" I said.
Arianna nodded. She knows that I'm not a fan of sitting in a stuffy pool area, breathing in chlorine, but I did go to her first meet. Well, every year I go to her first meet in compensation for missing the other ten meets.
"Thanks! Nicole can swim tonight. Somehow… Nicole's parents were able to overlook the B+. I guess Nicole has an angel looking out for her."
For some reason, I felt as though someone was snickering. I shook off the feeling and closed my locker.
"Well, I got to go; my mom is coming home tonight. Kick some butt," I smiled.
Arianna smiled and ran off towards the pool, her feet barely hitting the floor hard enough to make her sandals make a thump sound. I slung my bag over my shoulder and walked into the parking lot and managed to get to my car without dying. Colorado teens have the worst driving record to date. A student was almost killed a few years ago in this very parking lot.
I threw my bag into my Ford Taurus when I saw Michael walk over to silver Toyota Camry with tinted black windows. I got into my car and started it up. After a few moments of panic-stricken fear, the car finally started and I back out of the parking space. I followed the line of cars that was being poorly directed out of the lot and onto the road.
A few minutes later, I was driving past the front of the school, when Michael passed me. His eyes reached mine—I could clearly make them out behind the heavily tinted window—and held my gaze for a steady three minutes before he hit the gas and sped away.
The entire drive home my mind was busy with other things that I had to get done. Homework, chores, then off to work for three hours. Work was my own personal form of hell. I worked in a fitness center and I had to be perky to all the arrogant, self-centered pricks that called themselves "studs".
Twenty minutes later, I pulled onto the familiar gravel road and five seconds later, I pulled up to my home.
I'm not rich; my dad bought this house before I was born. My mom said that the reason why my dad bought the house is because he thought that the angels watched over this place.
I sighed as I walked into the house. I sometimes wished an angel had been with my dad the night he was killed. I walked upstairs, thinking about my dad when I turned my bedroom light on and saw that Margaret, our housekeeper, had made up my bed and cleaned my room. I looked at the digital clock and saw that it was only 4:45pm. Arianna's swim meet must be getting underway and I had an hour before I had to leave for work.
I walked downstairs into the office and rummaged through some old boxes until I found what I was looking for. Thankfully, we kept a Bible in the house, or Philosophy would be a nightmare. I walked into the kitchen and sat at the island, beginning my homework.
When I put my pen down, I changed into a t-shirt and sweatpants and drove to work. I grabbed a hooded jacket since it started raining. After arriving home from work, it was already eight in the evening, still pouring, and my mom still wasn't home. I began to worry. I tried calling her cell but she didn't answer. Finally she answered on my second call.
"I'm sorry honey, but I won't be in until tomorrow morning," she explained.
"Okay, thanks for letting me know," I grumbled before my voice rose an octave in fear and relief.
I made myself a small dinner and watched T.V. for a little bit before my eyes started to get droopy. I put my dishes in the sink and walked upstairs to my room. I was halfway up the stairs when a mind-splitting headache pounded through my skull.
"AAAHHH!" I screamed as I collapsed on the stairs, gripping the sides of my head and trying not to fall back down the stairs.
Screaming was useless. Our nearest neighbors were a mile away and even then, I doubted my screams would carry that far or they could but my throat and voice would be shot for a few days. As the headache vanished, I got up, panting, and slowly made my way to the bathroom.
As I entered the bathroom, I turned the light on and rummaged through the medicine drawer until I found maximum strength Tylenol. Hoping that they wouldn't be useless, I took three pills and shuffled my way into my room. The medication began working almost instantly. As I sat on my bed, I saw a silhouette of a man outside my window. I couldn't make out his face but I saw the pitch black eyes that sent a shiver of fear through me. The lightning wasn't helping me remain calm. As the lightning struck, the intruder-to-be looked starved. I couldn't see his or her face but I could see the paleness of their skin and how taut it was. I half ran-half stumbled out of my room and down the stairs. I reached for the phone to dial 911 when I felt another presence around me. I felt safe and secure. I also tasted leather, sandalwood, and I could smell leaves burning, like in a bonfire, like how my dad used to smell.
I set the phone down and slowly went back upstairs. The feeling of safety never leaving me. I entered my room and looked out the window to see the intruder-to-be gone. I shivered involuntarily and wished that my mom was home.
I walked over to my bed and as I slipped the covers over my shoulder, the medicine was working. I was out instantly, my mind encased in a drug induced fog.
SO TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK! I DON'T KNOW IF THIS WAS A GOOD START OR NOT AND AGAIN, A BIG THANKS TO MY BETA.