9:15 AM
The withered gray grass crackled under her sneakers as she toured her favorite place in the world. A quiet place void of life, judgmental stares, and loud slanders. A place people called strange because the grass stayed dead, even after the rain.
Alya liked it that way.
Like strands of moonlight, her long white hair fell in waves past her waist, tugged gently by the wind. Her brows, just as pale, gave her face a sharp, unearthly look, intensified by piercing gray eyes, ones that made people look twice...before passing judgment.
She strolled in silence, thoughts of her terrible life wrapped around her heavy as chains.
Everyone stared at her as if she were a glitch in their reality. The girl who didn't belong.
The girl with the white hair.
The girl with the strange gray eyes.
It might've been bearable if that were all. But odd things followed her; things no one could explain. Doors slammed without wind. Light bulbs flickered when she was upset. A student once swore her pen turned from green to white when she passed by. Just last week, someone claimed their bracelet floated when she looked at it.
The lies weren't always lies, and that made them worse.
Rumors grew teeth. Her classmates avoided her. Her teachers tiptoed around her. And at home... Well, home wasn't home. Not really.
She was a burden there. A mystery no one wanted to unravel.
And today...today had barely begun, but already it felt too heavy.
In the classroom, she'd allowed her thoughts to drift off, partly because the class was boring and partly because she'd been riddled with so many chores at home, she was simply exhausted. Her eyelids had grown heavy during the lecture, and the soothing hum of the fan directly overhead made it worse. She hadn't even noticed herself drifting.
Maybe if she'd paid more attention to the teacher, just a bit, the day would pass without incident.
But her foggy mind wandered, as it always did, to a dream where her mother left her because she was a monster.
"Alya Sheffield," the teacher's voice pierced through her thoughts.
Her eyes snapped open, and her body jolted upright.
"I wasn't sleeping," she blurted.
Miss Herston folded her arms. "Good. Then answer the question."
Alya's heart dove into her stomach. Her mind was a blank slate. She had no idea what the question was.
Miss Herston stared at her in disappointment. "I thought as much."
Alya swallowed and lowered her gaze. "I'm... I'm sorry."
"Yes, your favorite words. Alya, this has been happening for far too long. I need to know what's going on. But for now, I have no choice but to give you detention."
"No! Please," Alya blurted out in panic. She couldn't afford this. Her adoptive parents had warned her. No more trouble. No more calls from school, or else she'd be punished.
A wave of snickers rippled through the room.
Then one student spoke up so the whole class could hear, "No wonder you were abandoned."
"Freak!" another yelled out.
A chorus of stifled laughter followed.
Miss Herston snapped her head toward the culprits. "That is enough. Completely unacceptable."
But Alya had already gone still. Something inside her snapped.
Suddenly, the atmosphere in the classroom charged up. Every pen, pencil, and notebook lifted off the desks and hovered mid-air, turning slowly, resembling planets out of orbit.
Gasps filled the room.
The people nearest to her shoved their chairs back so hard they screeched against the floor as they fled. Passersby peeked through the window, all of them with horrified looks.
Soon after, the desks and chairs started rattling.
The students screamed and ran to the back of the class. Even Miss Herston took several steps back, her eyes wide with fear.
Chairs toppled over in the scramble. A cluster of students huddled together near the supply closet, gripping each other's arms and screaming. Some even threw their books, school bags, whatever they could find, at her.
Alya froze, her hands clenched as she stared at the whole thing unfold.
"No. No no no... not again," she muttered.
"She's a witch!" a student yelled.
"Someone get holy water!"
"Help us!"
"Stay away from us!"
Alya turned and saw the renewed fear on everyone's faces. Their accusations had been confirmed.
She grabbed her bag and ran.
She didn't stop running.
Down the hallway, past the stunned faces, out the school gates, she ran. No one chased her. Not one person called after her. No one ever did.
Her feet didn't stop moving until she ran to the edge of town, where the road thinned and the long grass gave way to short, silvery blades. Gray, just like her.
She dropped to her knees, then onto her side with her bag slumped beside her. She'd expected her usual peace, but none came this time. Just a flood of dread.
Her school would call home, and she would be punished with more chores, more cold glances, spats, and curses.
Unless she didn't go back.
The growl of an engine from afar made her look up from the road. She pushed herself up on one elbow, digging her fingers into the brittle grass as she narrowed her eyes toward the sound.
A sleek black power-bike rolled into view, its polished frame glimmering in the morning sun. The closer it got, the louder and more obnoxious it became, making Alya wince and cover her ears. It slowed down, then stopped when it reached the edge of the grass right across where she sat.
The rider didn't dismount or speak. He just sat there in his black helmet and zipped leather jacket, his gloved hands gripping the handles of the bike.
Alya's breath hitched as she thought of the worst. No life was within miles, just her and this stranger.
Who was he and why was he here?
Was the universe about to correct the anomaly which was her existence?
As if in response, the man reached up and pulled off the helmet.