Descendant Read online

  “Well, it’s time for you to get out of bed, anyway. You don’t want to be late for your first day of senior year! Let’s try to make some memories this time, okay?” She struggled to smile at me before leaving the room.

  Narrowing my eyes at the window, I noticed the pale gray sky. “Ugh!” I rolled my eyes, pulling the sheets over my head. It seemed the day was just as disappointed about the start of school as I was. The idea of seeing the same ostracizing faces as the previous three years of my high school education was pathetically droning.

  Freddie, I was sure, would be waiting for me at the rock with his backpack and set of new pens. He was easily excited about the first day of school, like he had been since the beginning of fifth grade. Not much had changed except for his height, of course.

  Every day was a bad hair day for me, I thought, as I towel dried my hair. Mom said I got my caramel-colored curls from my father’s mom, Grandma Anne. She died when I was eleven. Yet, every day when I look at myself in the mirror, I thank her. I thank her for making me stick out like a sore thumb in a town that housed blondes or brunettes with pin-straight hair. Usually, I’d pin back my hair not to stand out much, but today I decided to wear the curls loosely spiraling down my back. I wore a pair of frayed jeans, my Converse sneakers, and a black sweater for my first day of senior year. I was grateful that for a private academy, Houghton did not require a school uniform. However, in my opinion, comfort took precedence over the trendy styles you’d see sporting around school. But for my first day of senior year, I was ready to demonstrate some of Freddie’s enthusiasm for school and let my hair down. I skipped into the kitchen with Prince galloping closely behind me.

  “Hey, Mom!” I sang excitedly.

  She noted my enthusiasm as I poured myself a cup of coffee. “Wow, why so cheerful, today? Excited about school, I suppose?”

  “Mom, seriously? Excited to be with the same sorry kids I’ve gone to school with since second grade? No, not really! The only reason I’mcheerful is because this is my last year with these jerks, and I can finally rid myself of Mr. Winters!” I taunted her, knowing how much foul language irked her.

  “Shame on you! Watch your mouth. I raised you to be a proper young lady.”

  “Sorry,” I grunted.

  “Hopefully this year will be different, full of new experiences. Maybe you’ll make new friends, besides Freddie. You should be more like him, you know. He is always so delightful to have around!” Mom said out of left field. She never approved of anyone new coming into my life except for Freddie. It’s always been Freddie. Why start now?

  “So, in other words, you want me to be really smart, somewhat athletic, and ridiculously goofy? I’m already an athletically challenged geek, Mom!” I teased her.

  She smirked and reached for her jacket.

  “I am late for work, Miss Smarty Pants! I’ll see you this afternoon. Have a great first day and don't forget to leave food out for your dog! Love you, Beth Anne.” She headed out the door with her schoolbag and coffee in hand.

  “Hope you don’t have little monsters in your class again this year, Mom!” I teased, watching her walk out to her car.

  After setting up Prince’s food and water bowls, I reached for my keys and book bag. The Jeep’s engine roared to life as I adjusted my mirrors and seatbelt. Before putting the truck in drive, I checked my hair one last time in the mirror. “Ugh! What a mess!” I considered pinning it back for a moment but decided against it.

  I reached for the gear shift when I noticed a black bird cawing loudly above my home. Without warning, a frightful jab in my temple came at me like a ton of bricks. Nausea, then dizziness crawled through my body as startling images, different than before, crept into view. Visions of black acid water flickered before my eyes as a fire burned in my chest. Out of the murky water, a vixen beauty appeared wading towards me. Carved into the palms of her bloody hands werethe symbol the trinity; a trinity turned upside down, like my life; representing all that is dark. The voices shouted in conflict—warning me of what’s coming. I hurt to breathe. The pressure gripped my lungs making the pain impossible to bear. “Stop! Please go away.”I cried, begging for it to stop. These images no longer emerged in my dreams at night. Now they haunted my days.

  I prayed for the image and pain to disappear. Prayed with everything I had in me for it to go away. After some grueling minutes of what seemed like an eternity, it settled. The engine had shut down as did the pain in my chest and the dark images in my mind. Terrified and gasping, I opened the car window to let in the fresh air, while Prince barked frantically by the front window as if he’d sensed something was terribly wrong. His unhinged aggression through the glass pane worried me. He wasn’t barking at me though, but at the strange bird who hovered toward the towering trees just behind me. I looked into the mirror in the direction of the raven, but did not see anything out of the ordinary, except for rustling leaves––yet not a whisper of wind blew through them. Prince continued to scratch at the windowpane, almost in a gruesome attempt to claw his way out.

  I didn’t have time to calm my dog and didn’t want to be late for my first day of school. Instead, I listened to his pleas for a few seconds more before turning the key in the ignition. I wondered again, about the pain, not sure of the visions, and speculated if I should concern my mother with either. I pushed the thought aside, took another deep breath and drove the Jeep out on a road that headed south toward Houghton Academy.

  I approached the campus parking lot. The Academy was housed on the west entrance of the Houghton College campus, closest to the Equestrian Center. The Academy had a common parking lot for staff and seniors only. Students from grades six through eleven had to be driven or bused to school. “Here we go! One more year of this hell, Beth. You can do it!” I muttered encouraging words to myself through gritted teeth. I wasn’t sure if things would be different in my senior year. I was hoping they would be, but I wasn’t going to hold my breath. Not with Sophie around, anyway. I turned off the engine, reached for my bag and opened the car door inhaling the fresh September air.

  Outside Fancher Dorms, everyone gathered in their usual clusters. Some laughing, giving friendly and superficial hugs or high-fives to one another. Other students sifted through their book bags looking for their pinging cellphones. Some were exchanging useless details about their summer vacations or camp getaways. It was Freddie, however, who waited for me by Houghton’s purple boulder (hence giving the name to our yearbook), wearing his favorite frayed leather jacket, perfectly pressed vintage tee, jeans, and flip-flops. As he saw me drive on to the campus, his signature smile stretched across his face. I nodded my head at the sight of my free-spirited friend, who looked amazing with a tan.

  My eyes casually glazed over the campus parking lot—same faces, some with noted maturity and others with a glow of natural color on their tanned skin. I wondered if they noted changes in me over the summer break, or if they noticed me at all. I looked passed the huddles of students to see Freddie walking, rather jogging over to me.

  “Yo, BFF, ‘bout time you got here! I’ve waited long enough.”

  “Hey Freddie. How’s it going?”

  “It’s going! Isn’t this awesome! I can’t believe we’re seniors! Hey, remember when we first met in Miss Barlam’s fourth-grade class? Good times, huh! Now look at us—seniors!” He shouted.

  “Yeah, good times,” I said, feeling a bit nostalgic.

  “Let me get a good look at you. Whoa! Did you get prettier over the summer or am I still hung-over from last night’s keg party?” he laughed.

  “Cut it out, Freddie. Must you always be so obnoxious?” I muttered.

  “Oooh! Someone woke up on the wrong side of bed!”

  “So how was your summer in Philadelphia? Did your uncle put you to work again selling his famous cheese-steaks?” I teased him.

  “What do you think? It sucks that my parents make me spend the entire summer there working. But, I guess it beats staying here watching you sulk all sum
mer long.” Freddie said, as he busted out into laughter. I elbowed him in his ribcage as hard as I could, and stretched a victorious smile across my face.

  “Ouch! No fair! That hurt, Bethy! Com’on, you know perfectly well that it’s my job to keep you smiling.” He strangled his words as he rubbed out the twinge on his side.

  “Whatever, Freddie.” I grinned pulling my arm through his.

  “Can’t wait to see our schedules! You think we’ll have classes together this year?”

  “I don’t know, Freddie. Maybe.” I replied, lacking enthusiasm.

  “Ah, who cares! We’re still gonna kick ass this year!” He shouted in a deeper voice.

  I stared at him, unimpressed with his claims to victory.

  “You say that every year, Freddie! The only one who gets an ass-kicking is you!” I teased him, trying to mess up his hair. “Wow, you finally caught up to me. You’re not as short as you were since the last time I saw you.” I said, twisting my face, realizing that now I sounded as superficial as the other students around us.

  “Been eating my Wheaties! Working out. You know. So what’s the occasion that you’re wearing your hair down? New Year, new you? Awesome!” He raised his hand waiting for a high-five. Embarrassed by his observation, I tucked a lock of hair behind my ear, blushing as he wrapped his beefy arm around my shoulders.

  I noted the soft scent of his cologne. It didn’t smell very masculine, but certainly refreshing, like a scented flower. I immediately thought of gardenias and the beautiful stranger at the library.

  “You smell good for once. Not like a gym locker room. What’s it called?”

  He laughed before answering, “I don’t know, ask my mom. I borrowed it from her!” he winked and nudged my head with his knuckle.

  “Jackass!” I murmured, as I pushed him away.

  Freddie considered himself a big shot on campus, a ladies man. However, to me, he was still the nerdy schoolboy who entered fourth grade midyear wearing glasses and braces. It was precisely the same time my dad walked out.

  “Come on. Let’s get to class, before I break the record for the most lateness and detentions in a school year,” Freddie teased.

  We walked past the clusters of spectators. I smiled at the familiar ones I’d shared classes with in the previous years, hoping to avoid any possible conversations with them. Before I was able to make it passed them unnoticed, a demeaning voice called out from among the crowd.

  “Hi, Elizabeth. How wasyour summer?” Sophie smiled condescendingly, knowing perfectly well that my mom wasn't able to afford luxurious vacations for us.

  “It was great,” I sneered back, rushing passed her hoping to avoid further interrogation from the queen of mean.

  “Daddy thinks I need to be kinder if I want to inherit our family fortune. Maybe, I’ll make theloser my charity case and toss her a few of my passé clothing!” I heard Sophie say to her friends, as I walked away.

  Sophie Wellington was the popular stereotype. A perfectly manicured prima donna, with a real bitchy attitude. Her father was heir to the Wellington Hotels Empire. We met in Music Theory class when she moved here from the Hampton's four years ago. At first, I didn’t know what to think of her. It wasn’t until I shared something about myself that I knew we’d never be friends. In no time, Sophie had a slew of friends and got involved in every school event. I really didn't care much for her kind especially after the other students filled her in about the hand-me-downs. It gave her another reason to label me a loser. She never cared to be my friend from the start. Besides, I wasn’t the sort of person who hung around campus sporting a Houghton Cheerleader sweatshirt, like Sophie. On occasions, she’d invite me to her sleepovers or house parties as a cruel joke, knowing I'd never fit in with her or her friends. She would extend the invite mostly to get a good laugh from it or a reaction out of me. Like always, I’d make excuses not to go. Every time I declined her invitation, it never seemed to bother her in the least.

  Inside the Academy, Freddie and I compared classes. We had three classes together, and Freddie jumped around like a five-year-old who was gifted a new bicycle from his grandma. “Oh, yeah! We have Señora Peppe again. That woman loves me! I’m so acing this class!” he shouted.

  I tucked my head down toward my chest, hoping no one else noticed his asinine behavior. “See you in Spanish third period. So awesome that we don’t have to take Latin again!” he said, as he sped off and waved. “Adios, amiga!”

  “Okay, see you . . .” By the time I finished my sentence, Freddie was already gone. Turning on my heels, I walked into Mr. Mason’s history class.

  I took the seat at the far end of the classroom, closest to the window. The weather turned uncomfortably balmy. The sky changed from a shimmery-gray to a deeper metallic as droplets of water tapped lightly at the windowpanes.

  “Good morning, class. I’m Mr. Mason. We’ll be learning about world history this semester. Please check your programs to be sure that youare in the right class. For most of you, this is your final year at Houghton, therefore, you should already know the routine of checking the school website for all assignments. You are required to do a research paper on related world topics, which I posted on the site this morning.” Mr. Mason was a thin, short man of fifty-something with silvery-brown hair and bifocals that sat at the tip of his pointy nose. He held a thin wooden stick in his hands. He used the pointer daily to locate specific areas on interactive maps during his lectures. He was extremely boring, lacking expression in his voice yet very serious about his curriculum and assignments.

  “Take a moment to look over the course outline. I have prepared homework assignments, projects, and exam dates for the entire semester. Do not lose this packet and absolutely no excuses for missing homework unless you’re laid up in a hospital somewhere!” The teacher handed out Xerox packets of the course curriculum to students in each row. “The exit research paper you are required to do, will count as 20 percent of your final grade. Be sure, you refer to the project description and rubric that’s been provided for you on the website. Meanwhile, fill out your contact information and then, begin working on Unit Three Assessment followed by the section review that is on the board. You should have already purchased the required reading material. Therefore, you work independently, while I take attendance and collect your information sheet.”

  There were moans of disapproval around the room. Some students, who paid no attention to Mr. Mason, whispered details about their summer vacations in St. Thomas or Vancouver.

  Like a model student, I opened my text and skimmed through the chapter.

  “Justin, Matt, Kate, Vince, Jordan, Elizabeth, Vali, Timothy, Annie,” one by one hands went up confirming their presence around the classroom.

  A low rumble of thunder stirred above our heads. I looked out of the window and noticed a steady drizzle forming as flashes of lightning illuminated the distant sky. A gust of wind from the open window brushed past my face, whipping a strand of hair across my cheek. My skin suddenly crawled with a bad feeling.

  Concurrently, the classroom door slammed open with a loud crash. The entire class whipped their heads around toward the door, focusing their attention to the deafening sound.

  A girl with striking features, like those in my vision, stood tall and statuesque in the open doorway. A subtle smile pulled back her unflawed lips. The length of her hair flowed like the wings of a blackbird around her perfect face and glinting green eyes. Everyone seemed to notice the same magnitude of mystery this new face emanated.

  Mr. Mason, appeared just as captivated by her presence. Still, she remained like a goddess, waiting to be invited in. “Y––yes, may I help you, young lady?” He said, uneasily adjusting the spectacles on his face to get a better look. It was apparent the teacher was not used to being in the presence of such a sultry female. He twisted nervously at the contents of the course outline in his hands, almost shredding the paper to bits.

  However, she did not move. She held her pose beneath the threshold.
“I believe this is where I’m supposed to be. Samantha Gaven is the name. I’m new in town,” she stated in a silky voice.

  “Okay, w––well then, do come in, Miss Gaven. It is a pleasure to welcome you in my class. Please fill out your contact information. Take any empty seat you’d like. Today’s assignment is on the board. You may get started when you’ve settled in,” he said with the most inappropriate ogle in his eyes.Another perv, I thought.

  “Thank you, Henry.” She smiled confidently, calling the teacher by his first name, while everyone’s eyes followed her into the classroom. The boys couldn’t help but wipe the drool that dripped from their open mouths.Gross!

  Without reconnaissance, she glided, like a runway model, to the empty seat next to mine. She looked over at me. My legs twitched unwillingly. I pressed my hands down on my knees to quiet their turbulent tremor.

  She removed her jacket and set her expensive bag on her desk.

  “Hi,” she whispered, smiling at me. “I’m Sam.”

  Disinterested at first, I replied, “Elizabeth,” pulling my attention back to the front of the classroom.

  With an appeasing smile she bit her bottom lip, tugging at it gently with her perfect teeth. Gratifyingly, she replied, “Perfect! Umm, I don’t have a clue of where anything is on this campus. Perhaps, you could show me around.” She smiled beautifully.

  I nodded. “Sure. The academy's campus isn’t all that big. I’m sure you’ll find your way around in no time,” I said, looking back up at the teacher’s notes once more.

  I could smell the scent of her perfume as she moved about in her seat. It was earthy, like fresh soil. Different. She opened her leather bag to check her cell phone. Out of Mr. Mason’s view, Samantha quickly pressed the keys on her cell sending a text message to someone. As she placed the phone back in her bag, she turned to me and winked.

  Wow, I thought as I looked at her closely this time.She’s flawless.Her crimson wool coat and brown riding boots complimented her topaz skirt and russet angora sweater. The caramel-colored scarf she wore was wrapped fashionably around her lean neck. Sam was stylish for a girl of seventeen. Probably raised in an affluent family or aspiring to become the next top model.Why in the world would she move here?I asked myself.Why did she sit next to me when someone like Sophie sat across the way, vehemently staring in our direction?