Kayla

---

Autumn was sure an anxiety attack was well on its way.

Not only was her hair pinned up haphazardly—a stark contrast to her typically perfected ponytail—but now she was running late. This was not how she wanted to start her semester. Not at all.

The four-laned road was so congested with cars that she hadn't moved for the last ten minutes. She lived and commuted from one of the more populated areas in the city, so she was more than used to traffic, but it seemed that today was simply not her day. Autumn's pressed button-up already had a stain on it from slamming on the brakes at the beginning of what she would later note as the most inconvenient traffic jam of her life. She couldn't find her familiar this morning which was odd but not uncommon, she was nursing three burnt fingertips after taking her bagel straight out of the toaster, with her coffee— which had initially burnt her tastebuds— chilled, she was sure it couldn't get any worse. That is, until she felt a sharp pain in her foot, alerting her that her body didn't agree with her choice of shoes.

The only good luck she'd had was the fact that she remembered her backpack and had managed to acquire every possible item she could need for the coming school year. She was set in that sense. Textbooks, calculators, a whole battalion of pencils and pens, protractors and post-it notes. But that wouldn't matter at all if she couldn't make it to school. She inched her car forward, simply to feel like she was going somewhere and not wasting her time. Tapping her hands to the beat of a song on her steering wheel entertained her for all of a moment, and Autumn scowled as she realized her ADHD was acting up. She moved uncomfortably in her seats. Her legs were sticking uncomfortably to the leather seats of her Mercedes. Disinterestedly, Autumn glanced at the older man on her right nearly dozing off in the morning traffic. She watched him yawn twice, glancing away sharply when her noticed her gaze. Swinging her head to the left, utterly desperate for some source of entertainment before she went absolutely crazy, Autumn elicited a sharp pain in her upper back, adding to her unfortunate day. Feeling like she wanted to hit something, repeatedly, she watched the car before her's brake lights flick off as they pulled forward.

She cheered sarcastically to herself, letting off the brakes and moving for only a small second before stepping on them again. It would be so easy to just shove all of these cars out of the way. Collateral damage be damned. Actually- it would be so much easier to just not go to school now that she thought about it. She should've stayed in bed. Groaning in annoyance, Autumn changed the station three times before settling on the news channel and redirecting her gaze to the right once more.

She nearly snorted at the sight of a woman—who was probably around her age based on the Crestwood High sticker on her car- hitting her head on the wheel of her car, unceasingly. She drove an old beat-up ford truck that seemed to be held together with popsicle sticks and hope, and seemed to be muttering something to herself—probably curses. She dropped her head a final time and rested it against the wheel. Considering copying her actions, Autumn continued to watch the entertaining woman as she bolted upright and fumbled in the backseat for some unknown object.

When she situated herself to face the front again, Autumn found the will to stop staring at the girl. Autumn tuned into the news channel for all of five seconds before unconsciously letting her eyes wander to the woman locked in traffic next to her. She was scribbling manically on a pad of paper, as though her life depended on it. Shoving the pen in her mouth for safekeeping, she ran her hand over the sheet, closed the notebook and—

Oh, dear god. She saw her staring. Wanting to kick herself, Autumn snapped her head back forwards and changed the radio station again before casting her gaze upon the woman once more. She was smiling at her like she knew a secret she didn't, which made her want to ask her everything. She still had a pen in her mouth, and she looked admittedly stupid when she nodded to her in greeting.

Mortified that she'd caught her glance a second time, Autumn nodded back at her uncomfortably, inching forward into room she didn't have. Her jaw clenched and unclenched with the effort of not looking at the woman— and she busied herself by rehearsing her class schedule in her head, which she had more or less memorized.

HOPE, AP US History, AP Bio, Calculus II, Acting, AP Geography, AP Mico/Macro Econ.

Autumn inhaled sharply at the noise of something hitting her car window. It didn't sound like a rock, but it was enough to make her jump out of her skin. She turned to the right, the origin of the noise, her expert glare in place. The woman was leaning slightly out of her window and waving. Taking a deep breath, Autumn rolled down the window of the passenger seat.

"What," she asked simply, "did you throw at my car?"

Folding her arms over the windowsill of her car and leaning her chin on her hands, the girl let a stupid smile adorn her face. "A piece of paper. Balled up."

Autumn pursed her lips, examining the girl's tanned face. "Why?"

"I needed to tell you something," she answered simply and earnestly, digging into her pocket. She pulled out a stack of small slips of paper, and Autumn's eyebrows furrowed as she recognized them.

"Fortunes?"

The woman smiled lopsidedly. "Yep." She said with a wet popping sound at the end of the word. She slipped one out from underneath the rubber band the held them together, glancing up absently as the traffic moved a little. "Progress," she muttered bitterly, slamming on the brakes not a second later. "'Of all 27 alternatives, running away is best,'" she read from the paper, thereafter dropping the slip into the foggy morning. "Your lucky numbers were 12, 2 and 38." It swayed down the highway, riding the wind, and Autumn looked at her as though she were certifiably insane— which she had to be. She briefly considered taking the fortune to heart and finding a way to book it out of this chance encounter. Running away is best, after all. The strange woman grinned, shoving the stack of papers back into her pocket.

"What was that all about?" Autumn asked, having to shout a bit over the hum of engines.

She shrugged, tracing the circle of the car wheel. "You looked like you could use a good omen."

Autumn raised an eyebrow, and started rolling up her window.

"Wait!" the girl yelled. "What's your name?"

"Susanna," Autumn answered, deciding to give a false name. The girl opened her mouth to say something else, but the window had sealed her car shut. She gave the girl a pointed look, alerting her that she should roll her window up too, but the brown-eyed loonie shook her head, pulling the same notebook out of her pocket and leaning it against the wheel. When she finally held up what she'd been writing, Autumn could just barely make out six words.

Your name is so not Susanna.

Autumn gave her a look, and then proceeded to ignore her once again. She found peace for all but a moment before yet another noise startled her. With barely contained fury, she rolled down her window, the slow speed contrasting her hot annoyance. "What do you want?"

"I'm Kayla, 17, currently on track to be late for first period!" the girl- Kayla- she reminded herself, said easily. "Noticed that we're going to the same place based on your bumper sticker."

Autumn inhaled sharply for the third time this morning. This was going to be a long ride, but at least she was no longer bored.

A black and red-colored alarm hit 6 am on the dot. Strobe lights flashed on and off, filling the darkened room with pulses of blinding light. It peeked through Emily’s closed eyes causing her to roll over in defiance and try to continue sleeping. The sound drew her mom to open the door, her head peeked. Mrs. Sawyer just sighed at the sight of Emily curled into a ball and invited herself inside. She turned off the alarm before she took a seat on the bed. Her arm shook her daughter’s shoulder.

Emily just flipped around. She narrowed her anger and annoyance on the source, waiting for her mom’s reply. Mrs. Sawyer put her fingers together around her mouth and closed her eyes. After a moment, she opened her eyes and pulling her hands apart into two L shapes next to her face.

Wake up.

Emily sat up, folding her covers down. She lifted her hands up, making clawed fingers then turned them upside down. She shook them away from her like she was brushing something away.

I don’t want to. Emily signed back.
First day of school. Don’t be nervous, it will all work out.
I’m not nervous. Emily lied in her reply back, her butterflies swarmed in her middle. She wasn’t even sure if she could manage eating today.

Her mom’s posture fell into disappointment causing Emily to look away. She didn’t like making her mom feel this way, but she was determined to stick to her lie. Her mom once more touched her to redirect her attention.

Then why do you want to go back to bed? Her mom asked the hardest question in Emily’s opinion.
The teenager sighed then began to explain.

I’m scared and worried. What if no one wants to talk to me? What if they ignore me? Her sign language became quicker and sloppy. Immediately her mom reached to stop Emily’s hands, silencing her in order to speak.

Too fast. Take a breath and repeat that. Slower.

Emily nodded in understanding. She inhaled then exhaled, releasing the earlier butterflies for the moment. She signed again, this time at a better speed.

Better. Her mom paused to consider her daughter’s concerns. The answer came in a simple word.

Myles. He talks to you and doesn’t ignore you. That’s one cute boy down.

Mom. Emily gave her mom a look that screamed she was being ridiculous.

He reminds me of your father at that age, but I’ll drop it. Her mom gave her a warm smile. She leaned in and kissed Emily on the head, pulling up from her seat on the bed. Her figure turned back one last time.

Wake up. Get dressed. There are some chocolate waffles waiting for you in the kitchen. Myles will be here soon, so get them before he eats them all.

There was a bit of playfulness in the signing causing Emily to snort in laughter. Feeling slightly more positive about the day, she tossed the blankets to the side and rose onto her feet. Her oversized tee shirt draped over her boxers as she went to her closet. It took what could’ve half an hour deciding on her outfit, but she settled on one of her favorites. A pair of form-fitting light blue jeans with black floral stencils on the sides, a light tan spaghetti strap tee shirt with a studded purple heart on the right breast, and laced up canvas shoes.

Emily looked herself over in the mirror. She didn’t feel like make-up so she went all-natural, her hand snatching her phone on the way out. It was set to vibration and flash rather than sound. Her thumb flicked through the messages as she passed the utility closet and bathroom. When she reached the kitchen, she noticed a text from Myles.

"Good morning, I should be there for breakfast so long as I don’t, you know die or something. Hope we have Waffles!" This was accompanied by a smiling emoji.

Emily shook her head, texting him back. “Only if I don’t eat them all as revenge. Dad’s making both chocolate and blueberry ones so they will be nice and hot when you get here.

She put her phone away as she entered the dining room. The table had been set with butter, store-bought syrup, few bowls of fruit and whipped cream. Her mother wasn’t much of a traditional syrup and butter type of gal. Emily took a moment to inhale the warm cinnamon scent while she took a seat by the window.

A few minutes later, her mother bumped their kitchen door open then strolled out with a plate piled high in each hand. One was blueberries and the other was chocolate chip. She signed for Emily to dig in, but leave a plate for Myles. With a nod, her mother went back into the kitchen to help clean up the mess.

---

“There is a House, in New Orleans. They call the rising sun!” The lyrics to Bob Dylan’s version of the classic song were suddenly stopped by a fist slamming down upon an old alarm clock which shone the current time in bright red lights. For many, Four o’clock in the morning was earlier than they’d even consider waking up, especially for the first day of school. But it was a normal routine for fifteen-year-old Myles Pershing, who after a moment of groaning, snaked his way out of the blankets that covered his bed and stood drowsily beside it. He rubbed his eyes for a moment and then gave a large stretch of his body, shaking his limbs and fully waking up.

After a few more moments the boy padded out of his room and into the hallway, the colder air forming goosebumps all over his skin. He rubbed his arms a bit and opened the hallway closet, frowning as he noticed that there were no clean towels and resigned himself to using the one from the previous morning. He made his way into the bathroom and undressed out of his boxers while turning on the water for the shower. He started brushing his teeth as the water got warm and soon the everyday motions were in full swing.

Forty-five minutes later brought Myles back into his room. He was wearing a towel and already had his hair parted to the left as was usual. He dressed quickly, throwing on another pair of boxers and then pulling on a pair of jeans that had a hole in the knee. Unlike so kids, his jeans weren’t bought with such a hole. He had to work for that honor, wear them down until the fabric started protesting. Much like in life, said protests fell on deaf ears and as a final act of resistance decided to just come apart. To match the jeans, the now Sophomore wore a plain white t-shirt that went underneath a dark blue button-up shirt. Upon finishing, Myles gave himself a glance over in the mirror and shrugged.

It wasn’t going to get any better, and if he looked too bad he was sure that Emily would say something. He gave a smile as he thought about it, standing in her room and having her tsk while trying to iron out any wrinkles she saw. With that thought in his mind, he pulled on his Patriots hoodie and then started getting his school supplies all sorted. They were spread around his room as he had sorted each location to a specific subject. He still didn’t know why he did such a thing, but it did make it easier to move from subject to subject. He was still embarrassed at being so behind in his Freshman year, and thankful he had been given a second chance by his teachers, who passed him even though he toed the line. Even if one condition was that he had to get a tutor in math.

At first, Myles had been hesitant, not knowing how he was going to get along with his tutor, he wasn’t very good in social situations but hoped that since it was a small scale interaction he could work himself through it. He had managed to do such with Rosalyn after all. Luckily for him, Marie was not only really good at Math, but she was also easy to get along with. He wouldn’t truly consider her a ‘friend’ so to speak, but it was someone that he could say he didn’t just ignore.

He finished organizing his backpack and then stood at his door. His mind started racing, making sure he wasn’t forgetting anything and after nodding about six times at the mental checklist he gave a small smirk and grabbed his iconic powder blue earphones which covered his ears. He pulled his hoodie up over his head and clicked a button on his phone which began blaring an orchestral piece that he had recently loaded into his playlist the night prior. Just as he left his foster parents' house he glanced at the microwave and did fully smirk then. Five on the dot, perfect timing.

He made his way over to his bike and unlocked it from the fence. The lock was a recent addition to his routine, seeing as the local gangs seemed to enjoy stealing them and using them in drug deliveries. It made it harder on Law Enforcement because nine times out of ten none of the bikes the mules rode were their own which meant those descriptions couldn’t ever be trusted. And the last thing Myles wanted was trouble with gangs OR Police. He took off our of his drive-way and pointed himself South. He knew the route by heart so he didn’t have to worry about getting lost or making a wrong turn, but as he neared the end of his road which was thick with trees, he had to double-take as he saw a Wolf sitting on his haunches staring at him. Myles skidded to a stop and started turning, but the Wolf instantly stood and disappeared into the forest beyond.

With heart racing, the boy slowed his breathing and made a mental note to call in the wolf sighting to the New Hampshire wildlife officials and started back on his route. His eyes, however, continued to travel to his left, at the treeline. Soon enough he made it to one of the many bridges which separated the Northside from the South. He rode across it and stopped in his usual spot to text Emily, who was no doubt still snoozing.

"Good morning, I should be there for breakfast so long as I don’t, you know die or something. Hope we have Waffles!"

This was accompanied by a smiling emoji and Myles himself gave a half-smirk. As he went to put his phone away his eye caught on one of his contacts. Aiden (Da QB). Myles’ smirk left him and he wondered what Aidan had been up to during the summer break. He hoped it had been at least decent and Myles made another mental note to check in with him before practice. He was just about to move on when another contact made him frown. ‘Addy Spletzer’. His eyes narrowed and the last interaction he had with the self-styled reporter sprung to his mind.



With a groan that matched the one, he gave that day he clicked his phone back to his music and clicked play before he tucked it into his hoodie pocket and pedaled off towards Emily’s house. His mind was filled with thoughts once again on what Addy was going to end up doing, or whether she had done any digging during the summer months.

He ended up making decent timing, pulling into Emily’s driveway at six-fifteen. He would have been there before but had stopped and helped Mrs. Berns with some shop supplies she was bringing in. He propped his bike against the garage, not bothering to lock it now that he was safely in the Southside of the town. He placed his helmet on the handle-bars and then removed the hood from his head, sending his hair into a tousled mess. He didn’t seem to care however and made his way to the door. He gave two knocks, waited, and then a third. It was ‘his’ usual knock so the family would know it was him. For good measure, he also rang the doorbell.

From the corner of her eyes, Emily had caught her father walking out of the kitchen. He disappeared into the small hallway leading into the foyer. She scrunched up her expression until she spotted the strobe lights flashing that indicates someone was at the door. Curious to see if Myles arrived or someone else, she pushed her chair out. She left her one-third eaten waffles behind as she followed her dad. Her form stopped just short and leaned against the wall adjacent to the den’s entrance. She stood there watching the two converse until someone noticed her.

“Myles, you’re later than usual. Everything all right?” Her father asked without sign language. His hand gestured the younger boy in while he stepped to the side, closing the door behind Myles.

” Oh yes Sir, Mr. Sawyer. I was helping Mrs. Bern with some boxes and got distracted by the sunrise. It was quite a sight today.”

He found himself smiling past the man and spotted Emily watching from the wall and his half-smirk grew to a full one. It was strange, he didn’t like to smile and for the most part never did, sticking to sideways and half-smiles that never reaches his eyes. But Emily was an exception, though others were growing on him at the school.

As the door closed behind him Myles couldn’t help but feel truly welcomed to the home. It had taken a while but he was starting to feel like part of the family, or at least, not a stranger. He followed along behind the man who was leading them towards the kitchen and gently nudged Emily as he passed. He brought his hands up and signed over to her.

Morning, everything ok?

Emily’s father accepted his answer and began to pull back to the dining room, leaving the two to talk. She nodded then spoke with her hands.

I’m just happy to see you. Come on, or I’m going to finish the waffles myself.

She increased her smile as she gestured for him to follow her.

And follow along Myles did, the familiar hallway leading into the kitchen where he could smell the residual cooking. He kept moving until they came to the dining room and Myles gave a half-smile to Mrs. Sawyer, inclining his head respectfully.

” Good morning Mrs. Sawyer, thank you for inviting me for breakfast, and for the ride to school.”

He didn’t hover too long in a standing position as his eyes had gone straight to the waffles that sat upon the table. He slid into his regular spot and tried not to look like a starving child.

He waited until Emily sat and got situated and then hesitated, the old familiar ‘should I just grab a waffle?’ hitting his brain. He didn’t want to assume and didn’t want to seem too familiar to the family so they took offense. He shot a ‘help me’ look to Emily and shifted in his chair.

Emily had started to dig in until she felt Myles look at her. She paused and glanced at him, her lips frowned. She quickly signed.

Really? You’ve been here long enough, you might as well be family. Grab a few waffles and toppings.

She shook her head as she returned to finish her four waffles.

Myles gave a nod, accepting the words with a shrug. He started digging in happily, filling his plate with quite a good many waffles before starting to pour syrup on top. He didn’t use too much however, not wanting to drown the flavour of the well-made breakfast. He started eating voraciously, yet still politely, keeping track of any conversations and nodding when applicable. After the fifth? Sixth? Hard to count, he stopped and leaned back with a grateful nod.

Amazing as always, thank you! He wasn’t sure which parent had cooked this time, and as such looked to either of them.

Emily’s mom looked pleased as she began to clean the platters which held the food earlier. She signed with one hand.

At least we don’t need to make room in the fridge.

Emily snorted again with her odd laugh. It made her mother happy as she added, Get your bag, I’ll be out shortly. Father is going to pick you two up after school.

Even after her mom mentioned it, her father had already started to head to his bedroom for a long-overdue nap. Emily pushed out from the table to rush over to him and sign him a good night. It was enough to make his tired expression curl into a warming one.

You have a good day at school. He signed back then disappeared into the hallway.

Emily turned to Myles then signed a question, Did you put your bike into the garage?

Myles felt his cheeks burning just a bit at the jest, catching the tail end of it, but decided to take it as a compliment. He watched as Mr. Sawyer headed off for his room and was reminded that the man would likely be napping for most of the morning. He felt his lips tug upwards as Emily and her father interacted and then had it disappear before darker thoughts clouded the wholesome moment.

As such, his face was neutral when she turned to him and he shook his head.

Was way to hungry, I figured I’d do it before we left.

He was getting quite good at sign language, though he was far from an expert. He kept his motions slow and consistent while still mouthing the words as well.

She nodded.

I’ll grab my bag and necklace, then meet you outside. Emily moved for her bedroom.

Myles returned the nod and headed outside, snagging his own backpack which he had deposited beside the door when he entered. He walked the ‘vehicle’ into the garage and leaned it against the wall before slipping the lock around the body. He gave a nod and waited beside the car for Emily and her mom. He would occasionally kick at the ground a bit, and resisted the urge to turn his music on.

Emily came through the door and stepped down the porch steps onto the sidewalk. Her fingers fiddled with a senior ring dangling about her neck for a moment. A habit to assure her it was there. Her bag was a common, plain backpack with patches on the front and keyrings hanging off the sides. The car was sitting out in the driveway waiting for them. She signed for him to head into the left side while she went into the right.

When they situated into their seats, her mom opened the door and popped into the driver’s side. She glanced into the rearview mirror then signed.

Everyone buckled up?

Emily Exggerated her eye roll so Myles could easily see it. She reached for her own seat belt and secured it in place. Mrs. Sawyer glanced at Myles, seeing him already buckled in, then turned on the ignition. The car began to pull out.

It was a habit by that point for Myles to simple buckle in the second he was in his seat, he gave a genuine wide grin as he caught Emily rolling her eyes at him and just shrugged. He nodded into the rearview mirror as he noticed Mrs. Sawyer asking if they were belted in and then removed his phone. He started a simple playlist, something peppy to prepare him for the day to come, and he placed the phone on the seat right beside him in case Emily wanted to feel the vibrations from it.

Other than the music, the thirty-some minute ride went quickly and before Myles knew it they were pulling into the schools drop off zone. He glanced over to Emily to make sure she knew they were here and then signed to Mrs. Sawyer. Thanks for the ride again. I’ll make sure Emily gets to class ok. And if anything happens I have your number. He was sure he had messed up at least part of that but was sure that Mrs. Sawyer knew what he was saying.

Mrs. Sawyer nodded and signed for them to have a good day. When they finally exited, she drove off and headed to work.

---

^{Spletzer Residence || First Day, Morning}
“Have a good day, Addy!” came her mother’s voice from the kitchen.

“Bye Mom,” Addy said, planting a kiss on her mother’s forehead before rushing out the door. At the curb was a sleek Mercedes number that she’d never bothered to remember details of, Clarence waving at her from inside.

“Morning, Addy,” he said when she cracked open the car door. She froze.

“What is she doing here?” she hissed as Tabs wiggled her fingers at her from the back seat, her grin disgustingly sweet.

“‘Morning, Addy,’” she echoed.

“I needed to talk to you two about the news column,” Clarence said. “If we’re going to publish on Friday, we need to be on the same page starting today, and—Addy, c’mon, Addy!”

With the door just a sliver away from closing, Addy stopped, then opened the door and dropped her bag in before getting in herself. “Drive.”

The car started down the street, Addy pulling out her phone and starting to scroll through its contents. In the back seat, Tabs snickered.

“We need to finalize the news column,” Clarence said, looking over at Addy. “You two pushed for this Friday’s issue the hardest, and your column is the only one that’s still not finalized, so—”

“The only reason I’m not choosing to walk is because I have the camera equipment in my bag,” Addy said, not looking up from her phone. “The equipment you suggested I bring last night.”

“Addy, you know you wouldn’t have agreed to talk with Tabs before fifth, and we need to present a united front on the first day.”

Addy was silent, her gaze focused firmly on the phone in her hands.

“Oh, real classy, Addy,” Tabs said from the backseat.

“Shut up, Tabitha,” Addy said.

“The story suggestions,” Clarence continued, ignoring them both, “are: The mayoral election, the volleyball feature, the restaurant closure—”

“Cut that one,” Addy said.

“That one’s timely. It’s closing next Sunday,” Tabs said.

“Which means we can publish it next week.”

“And the one week buffer?”

“It’s closing next week, no one cares right now.”

“Um, hello, that’s why we should care?”

“That’s—”

“Alright, so what do you suggest running instead then?” Clarence asked.

“The feature on Tuckerson,” Tabs said immediately.

“The antique shop opening,” Addy said at the same time.

They looked at each other.

“Are you serious? You just said the closing doesn’t matter,” Tabs said.

“I said it’s not timely and that it can be pushed off a week. But the Tuckerson feature? That’s never timely. This whole year is her twentieth year,” Addy said.

“But her twentieth year starts now. And antiques? What are we, fifty?”

“We’re old enough to appreciate culture and local businesses.”

“I’m pretty sure people care more about their childhood diner closing than about some antiques shop opening.”

“It’s opening next Wednesday, so it’s timely and it’s staying around. Plus it’d be a push towards community.”

“Alright, we’re running the opening story, because,” Clarence added before Tabs could protest, “it’s the most timely one. We’ll run the closing story next week. Now, the other stories—”

The smile on her face, Addy was sure, was a product of Tabs’ silent challenge: See if I can’t steal one back.

“—the student council piece, the debate club feature—”

“Debate? Clubs don’t start until this week,” Tabs interjected.

“Formally. Informally, some, like this one, started last week,” Addy said. “And debate has a competition—”

“In two weeks, not one. Didn’t someone complain about timeliness?”

“We have other clubs to cover later, so if we don’t start now—”

“We can start when stuff picks up. Right now it’s boring as—”

“Boring? It doesn’t matter if—”

“Okay, we’re running the Tuckerson story instead of the debate one,” Clarence said. When both girls looked at him, he shrugged. “Proximity. And nostalgia—I had her freshman year, and she’s a good teacher. She deserves a shout-out. Now, the last two stories—feature on the new teacher and the usual encouragement letter from the principal. No problems there, right?”

“No, ” Tabs said.

Addy stayed silent, which prompted a sigh from Clarence.

"Well, the news column is finalized then," he as he pulled into the school parking lot.

“Yippee. Now don’t say I wasn't cooperative,” Tabs said, exiting the car as soon as they were parked.

“Well you weren't,” Addy muttered as the door closed.

“Addy, I needed to make sure the news column was okay, and having you two argue about it in class, and on the first day, isn’t going to start us off on the best foot,” Clarence said, his voice as calm as ever.

“‘The best foot,’ huh,” Addy repeated. “And here I thought you’d just wanted to spite your parents by making sure we perfumed up your car.”

“Yeah, she really did a number in here,” Clarence said, dialing up the air.

“As if you don’t offer to drive me every day.”

“Well, you don’t wear perfume.”

Addy paused. “You bought me perfume.”

Clarence’s eyes widened slightly. Under Addy’s glare, he raised his palms, wincing. “I, um, bought you eau de toilette. It’s lighter than perfume…”

Addy was silent for a moment, then turned to crack open her door.

“Addy,” Clarence said. “You know—”

“You’re right, I do know.” she said, leaning back to plant a kiss on his lips before sliding out of the car. Popping her head back in, she smiled. “I know I’m buying my own perfume from now on, and I know you’re letting me run my stories next week. See you in fifth, babe.”

With that, she closed the door, walking briskly towards her first period class. As she did, she whipped out her phone, considering her options for the next week. As usual, Crestwood Hollow was about as interesting as a pile of rocks. At this rate, she might need to do some digging.

R O S A L Y N O S B O R N E

---

Textured froth bubbled from behind Mrs. Lilith Osborne’s pale lips and flowed down her chin. Her attempts at a verbal protests were stifled by the thickness, each exhalation sending the fluid billowing outward. A thin framed woman was leaned over the head of the bed and her shouting, along with the way she was frantically tapping at Osborne’s shoulders, revealed her panic at the situation.

“Ma’am, are you okay?! Ma’am!” Unceremoniously, a gob of the substance was projected outward, landing with a sort of sickening thwap against the cheek of the concerned woman. A stunned moment of silence passed between the two as the nurse raised a tentative hand to the matter strewn across her face.

“You gave her sweetened. She won’t eat it. You’ve only got a chance in hell with unsweetened.”

Rosalyn was settled in the doorway with her shoulder propped against the frame, having previously been watching the eventful encounter in silence. In one hand she held a jar of applesauce, dipping her opposite pinky into it and bringing the finger to her tongue. Smugness dripped from the girl’s own lips, their corners turned upward as she made no effort to disguise her amusement.

Lisa had arrived in the home only last week and this was not the first time she’d been spit on by the home’s matriarch. It certainly would not be the last. Nurses typically only lasted a month or two. Housekeepers often held out for longer, their biggest complaint usually being emptying Mr. Osborne’s bedroom trash can.


“I- I didn-” The nurse began, though her words lodged themselves in her throat as the girl started towards them.

“You don’t need to be such a wretched witch about it, though, Mother. The dramatics are just unattractive.” Rosalyn haphazardly dropped the jar down onto the surface of the nightstand situated next to the woman’s hospital bed. That bed was the only thing in the room that Mr. Osborne allowed to reveal there was sickness present in the house. Besides the body wasting away in the center of it all, of course. Syringes and vials were tucked in drawers, the machines pumping necessary fluids were silenced, windows were yanked open anytime an unnatural smell emerged from behind the closed door. Anyone around long enough would begin to wonder what the inside of Lilith’s head was like, how tightly that prison door was shut, and Rosalyn was certainly no exception.

The young woman lowered herself beside her mother, a vast expanse of vacant space left in the bed, and carefully wiped away the remnants of the applesauce from her chin with a bare thumb. Eyes identical to her own were fixated on the ceiling just above her head, rhythmic blinking the only sign that there may be a soul tucked deep behind them.

“Daddy says the harvest is looking to be one of the better we’ve seen if they sprayed late enough this year… Should mean he’s less of a prick, but who can ever be sure.” Rosalyn had moved to sweeping stray pieces of auburn hair from Lilith’s forehead with her clean hand, tucking them neatly behind her ear. The two had once shared their eccentric hair color, but age had muted and darkened the eldest’s.

“Maybe we hire the O’Hare boys to work again this season. I’ll turn your bed to face the window and make sure their shirts stay off. Give you a better show than those shitty rom-coms someone’s always blaring in here.” Sharp eyes flickered aside to land on Lisa, who had sheepishly tucked herself in a far corner near the door. The way the nurse’s eyes had widened and her hands wrung relentlessly left Rosalyn wondering if she would begin bashing her head into the walls, similar to the way rabbits do when they’re trapped in tight spaces. The blatant weakness that practically dripped from the woman's pores was enough to pull Rosalyn to her feet. Blood in the water.

“Why don’t you go ahead and clean her up for me, will you?” She inquired, the staunch clicking of her heeled boots warning of her approach. “And after, take a minute to read her care plan, you helpless goon. She spit out half of her morning meds. If you’d done so before, you would know what she does and does not like.” Rosalyn had pressed her soiled thumb against the woman’s chest with force, swiping it back and forth to smear the applesauce off onto her scrub top. Slowly, she hinged forward, leaning in until their noses nearly brushed against one another and Lisa could smell the artificial sweetness of her lip gloss.

Rosalyn’s voice naturally fell at a high octave, but as she began to speak again, her pitch lifted further. Her words flowed almost as a song, though they were saturated with a certain malice. “Screw up again and I might just be forced to tell Daddy how I watched you shove a spoon into the back of her throat while you held her there,” Rosalyn’s voice hitched and cracked as if this was a craft she had mastered. “The way she gurgled and cried… The look in her eyes as she clawed at the sheets.” Within those few sentences, tears began welling up from the corners of her eyes, spilling over only when she cringed away at her own words, as if in pain herself. “How could someone be so awful to someone so helpless?”

With a sigh, Rosalyn took a step away, pulling her hands through her hair and ruffling the roots. Diligently, she dabbed beneath her eyes with the sides of her fingers, careful not to disrupt her mascara as she lifted away any residual dampness. As if to pull the curtains on her short monologue, a broad smile heightened the rosey apples of her cheeks.

“Well! Ahem, I’m off to school! Busy day. Can’t imagine I’ll be home for supper.”

. . .

Rosalyn drummed her thumbs against her steering wheel to the beat of whatever song escaped her speakers loud enough to null her own thoughts. She was late, of course, but drove the speed limit anyway. Rushing to get to Mather Memorial just meant more time standing at her locker listening to one of the girls tell her, in detail, how having sex in a summer camp bunk bed was the most exilerating experience of her life. She’d pass on that. Daddy would call Fitzgerald to have her excused anyway.

Unmistakable, a red Jeep pulled into its designated spot at the front of the full parking lot, won by the Osborne’s in an auction to support the school’s athletic department. Despite the time, Rosalyn unbuckled and settled back into her seat, staring outward at the school’s entrance. It was a whole lot less intimidating from the outside. Just a lot of ugly brick and an old tree. “Should’ve just left it a jail. Practically the same thing,” the young woman muttered, eyes still fixated in front of her.

Finally, in a burst of sudden movement as if realizing just how late she now was, she leaned over and tugged open the glove box. Amongst various lip sticks and a pair of black flat shoes left there in case of an emergency, sat a small orange bottle with a white screw top. Seemingly frustrated at the action itself, Rosalyn aggressively squeezed at the child-locked cap and emptied a single pill into her palm. She tossed it back into her mouth before pulling a drink from the coffee mug tucked between her thighs. The bottle was situated back where it came from, Rosalyn checked her lipstick once more in the rearview mirror, and the driver's side door was finally pushed open.

"Let's get it."

Kayla

---

"What makes you think I know how to skate?"

"Long-ish hair, tan and you speak in a callow way," Autum stated bluntly, extending a finger with each point she made. Kayla blinked at her bluntness, deciding that it wasn't a necessarily bad quality to have.

"Callow? Is that one of those weird positions?"

"Callow. Immature, elementary, not fully developed," Autumn defined.

"So, basically, you were calling me stupid in a nice way?" Kayla questioned, turning to her acquaintance with a raised eyebrow. She watched with amusement as Autumn returned the gaze with no more than a raised eyebrow, raising her book up and turning the page.

Autumn shrugged. "More or less."

Kayla laughed, deciding that she liked her already. "Well, I gotta appreciate that honesty."

"Wow, 'appreciate'. Don't strain yourself now," Autumn remarked sarcastically. All Kayla could do was laugh, again.

"You might just be the most amusing person I've ever met, Autumn," Kayla told her unabashed.

"Glad to see someone thinks so," Autumn mumbled, looking away and quite obviously trying to avoid the conversation's continuance.

Kayla nudged her with her own shoulder. "Wow. Next time we hang out, we'll have to work on your confidence."

"I have confidence," Autumn disagreed, suddenly defensive. Kayla sent her a sidelong glance. "You don't even know me! You have no right to judge me like that."

Kayla shook her head. "Yeah, maybe I don't. But sometimes, a stranger's point-of-view can be one of the best things to go by," she said, then quite abruptly began to split off from their current path. They had parked, and of course Kayla couldn't help herself and had continued to follow Autumn towards the schoolyard. But now she seemed to be heading around the school. Autumn altered her path to keep up with the annoying young woman.

"Where are you going?" Autumn inquired.

"Used to my company already?" Kayla asked her with a smile, turning around as she walked backwards- never missing a beat in her step. Autumn looked back to the school's parking entrance, scowling. "It was a joke," Kayla said to her her, pushing her hair away from her face. "But, yeah, I some business at the front office. See you soon?"

"If it happens, it happens," Autumn said vaguely.

Kayla considered her words. "If it happens, it happens," she repeated. "Well, if I never see you again, you were a lovely person, Autumn."

Autumn sighed, electing not to respond to the loonie's words and turned slightly to split off herself. She made it maybe six steps before Kayla's voice nailed her feet to the floor. How did this girl have so much sway already?

"Wait," Kayla ordered, running up to her and smiling to soften the command. "I have to read you something."

"If it's another fortune—"

"You're catching on!" She grinned at her and pulled the stack of papers out of her pocket, humming to herself in a carefree manner and slipping a fortune out from underneath the rubber band. Autumn leaned forward to read it before her, and accidentally hit her forehead against Kayla's chest. She immediately took two steps back, and Kayla laughed at her, causing her deathly leer to come back. "'Patience is your alley at the moment. Don’t worry!'"

She dropped the fortune on the ground, just at their feet. Autumn cocked her head to the side. "Why do you keep finding me and giving me fortunes?"

Kayla shook her head. "Your lucky numbers are 5, 17 and 56. Do you really think I'd tell you that easily? No way, Jose. You're going to figure it out for yourself." Her eyes flickered to the left, and Autumn could almost see the lightbulb go off in Kayla's head as the woman scampered off.

What a strange girl.

---

With the dawn of a new school year came the dawn of new beginnings. Fresh blood flowed through Mather Memorial High as the seniors left for college, or jobs, or for their burning bright futures in deep alcoholism while the new baby faced freshman came in- talking about fortnite, alcohol, not having to line up when they go to lunch anymore, and other weird freshman shit. It was adorable.

Kayla had genuinely enjoyed Autumn's company this morning. Truth be told she was about to skip had she not run into the poor girl. Autumn looked so wound up that Kayla could put a piece of coal in her ass and pull out a diamond- assuming she could get the coal up there to begin with. She absentmindedly rubbed the silver band of her mother's wedding ring on her left hand with her thumb. She wore it on her middle finger because she obviously wasn't married, and thus it kept people from getting the wrong idea about her when she decided to flirt. No, truth was Kayla needed to distance herself from Autumn because she had a plan. The new school year meant that she had new opportunities to play some practical jokes- and she wasn't quite sure if Autumn was cool enough to not rat her out yet. Despite her earlier lapse in vernacular she was fairly clever. At least, clever enough to not incriminate herself so easily.

Kayla was already a few minutes late, and most people were in the halls catching up. All according to plan, Kayla mused. When she entered the front office building, the attendant was already in the process of giving her welcome back speech. “Welcome back, Mather Memorial Ravens! I hope you all aren’t having any trouble finding your room assignments! If you are, look for the Student Council members in the black and blue. They’ll be happy to assist in any way they can!”

Her eyes flashed to Kayla, and she raised a finger as if to signal 'one moment', then diverted her eyes back down to the piece of paper that she was reading her speech from. While she was distracted, Kayla stuffed her hand into her back pocket and produced a SD card. Acting quickly while she could, Kayla reached across the wall and swapped the SD card with her own. There were several sound files of the standard high school bell- but the last one? The last one was something special. Kayla didn't particularly care if they reviewed the tapes and she got caught for this. In fact, a small part of her wanted the school to know it was her. It wasn't like this one was destructive or defaced property, no. She would get a slap on the wrist if she got any punishment at all for this. What was the school going to do? Yell at the receptionist for being so inattentive? Send a letter home to the parents of the poor orphan girl?

By the time that the lady placed the phone down, Kayla's job was long since complete. Kayla flashed her a bright smile. "Hi Mrs. Munich! I'm just here to report a change of address. Uncle's house got renumbered..."

The rest of the day went by uneventfully. She eventually made her way to the auditorium, and say through some shitty acting job that was way late to the party when it came to her, went to class, and now found herself seated in what the school called the 'Social Conscience program'. Now, Kayla was no stranger to honors, AP, and dual enrollment classes. Autumn's terrified expression when she rolled into her AP Calc class was not something she'd soon forget. No, Kayla took this class particular because it offered the same GPA bonus and had no published syllabus and was the first class of it's kind and was being held by a new teacher. If that wasn't the unholy trifecta of easy then Kayla didn't know what was. New teachers and new classes were easy on their own. Two at once? Cake.

The class was, in short, about self discovery. It was kinda flamboyant in description but Kayla was not one to complain. The teacher seemed chill enough, asking to be referred to as Jonas as opposed to his last name. This was a first for her, but a nice change of pace regardless. She also got a passcard that gave her an all access pass to this room. Kayla smiled evilly at this, the gears in her head already turning with this new information. She absentmindedly fiddled with her father's ring when Jonas opened the floor to them all. Kayla, being herself, was the first to stand. She didn't bother raising her hand. She swaggered to the front of the class, and surveyed all of her peers. She recognized a few- namely Aiden, whom she winked at. He probably had some inkling of what was to come.

"Hello everyone!" She proclaimed. "My name is Kayla Foster. I am a twin, yes I'm the evil one. This is the second introduction I've made today. My dog is broken. I have a lot more in common with Batman than the average person." She tilter her head toward's Jonas' direction and gave him a smile. "One question for the teacher, though? Which of the brothers are you?"

She took a seat, figuring that she could get his answer sitting down and open the floor for the next person. This class was flying, and the final bell was just around the corner.

This was gonna be sweet.

N A L A J O H N S O N:

---

The alarm clock blared, screaming out "It's 7:00AM" repeatedly in its robotic female voice, as it was gradually replaced by the familiar tune of Europe’s The Final Countdown. Nala groaned, knowing full well what that meant. During her brother’s visit back home here in Crestwood, he had brought along an alarm clock that he swore would do its job of making sure she woke up in the morning. Being the inventive genius he was, he had rigged the stupid contraption to blare out the time for twenty seconds before it shifted to the entire tune of that stupid song. She grabbed hold of the edge of a pillow, about the fling the thing at the stupid clock, before she stopped short, remembering her previous encounter with when she'd down such a thing. Sighing in frustration, she dropped the pillow back down without a fight left in her.

The damn song was exactly what it was titled, the final countdown. As soon as the song ended, a panel would open, and spray three generous squirts of noxious skunk spray into the room. The first time she was left at the mercy of the clock, it took her one week just to clear the smell out of the room for good. Her parents seemed to revel in her plight, and forbid her to even lay a single scratch on the clock, or they’ll take her car away for good. Forced to obey the stupid clock, she had to get up, face the clock face and activate its facial recognition system, which meant that she had to open her eyes to allow a successive beep, cutting off the song and resetting the alarm for the next morning. The wicked contraption certainly did its job. Waking up on time was now part of her daily routine, and it no longer troubled her as much as it did before.

She shuffled her slipper-clad feet as she went on with the rest of her morning routine. Brush her teeth, shower, dress and a tad of light makeup, just to make herself look neat and refreshed without being possibly overbearing, and then breakfast. Dressed in a black body-fitting tank-top and leggings, she completed her outfit with a gray Nike hoodie and matching tennis shoes. As she headed down to the living room, she found Anita, the housekeeper waiting for her with breakfast neatly packed for her in a lunchbox. “Two Toast Sandwiches with Bacon and Eggs?" She asked, her voice chipper and ready to start the day with a bang. “Done just the way you like them!”

Anita replied, a warm smile present on the matronly housekeeper’s visage. Nala grinned at the reply, her mood buoyed by the fact that with such a great breakfast in hand, nothing could possibly go wrong, can it? Grabbing the lunchbox and her keys, she made her way to the garage, opening the door of her red and black and red LaFerrari. She’d received the car as her birthday gift for her Sweet Sixteen, and the choice of car had been simply left up to draw. Her parents had gotten a fish bowl and threw in a handful of scrap paper each with names of their favourite cars written onto them. After mixing all of them up, all she had to do was reach into the bowl and pick up one of the scraps, and that was it.

This was typical of her parent’s behaviour, as they liked to inject fun and games into everything they did with regards to their family and personal life. They were incredibly serious and professional at work, but once they reached home, their fun-loving side takes over. Opening the garage door, Nala turned the key in the ignition, and the Ferrari growled deeply as it started up.

Turning out into the avenue that led to the main street, Nala raced into securing herself a spot in the early morning traffic, the sleek car announcing its presence to all that drove alongside it. Arriving in the school’s parking slot with a deep growl, Nala reversed into a lot deftly and turned off the engine, lowering the windows for the cool morning air, as she spent several minutes to consume her breakfast. Several minutes of sandwich savouring later, with the lunchbox tossed back unceremoniously on the passenger seat, she raised back up the window, grabbing her bag as she left the car, locking it with a beep as she headed towards her locker for quick moment before heading to the auditorium. The welcome back speech would be up soon, while it wasn’t all that interesting, Nala was looking forward to seeing her friends back again.

---

_{Tuesday, Sept 3. | The Assembly}

During the assembly, Emily decided to sit near Myles. She quietly watched everyone file in either in groups or individuals, filling up the bleachers. When it seemed everyone was here, the assembly began. Emily fixed her eyes on her aid, Ms. Krauss. The woman had neatly trimmed golden brown hair with curled ends. She kept it straight to match her professional aura, but her eyes reflected something else. When Emily looked into them, she saw much more depth in the aid. Warmth and kindness were there, but pity too. The latter was something she didn’t want. It made her feel weak and a burden to others. Someone better left dead. Emily paused in her negative thoughts as she felt a familiar, icy fear journeyed up her spine.

It must’ve shown on her face because Ms. Krauss looked concerned then signed. Are you all right?

Taking the escape route out of her own mind, Emily’s hands replied back. Yes, I am. Just bored.

The woman continued to look at her a moment longer then moved on. She quickly picked up where she left off, translating what the Principle was saying. When he introduced the newest addition to the school faculty, Emily’s eyes shifted from Ms. Krauss to spot Mr. Lehrer stepping up to the podium. She wasn’t sure what to think of him based on looks. Her attention returned to Ms. Krauss, reading the signs for the gist of his welcome. She shook her head at his corny joke about spreading wings.

At the mention of his Social Conscience Program, her hands pulled out her bag and checked her schedule.

Literature.
Art.
Calculus.
Computer Lab.
Fashion and Retailer.
Chemistry.
Fashion Construction.
Social Conscience.

Emily frowned at the last period, confused at why she was chosen. While it sounded like it might help her insight on popular fashion, it sounded too experimental. Something that straight-A students would have no issue joining. Something she failed at being. In fact, according to her last year's progress report, she barely managed to float on a D average.

She went to ask Ms. Krauss about it, but the woman gestured for her to pay attention. Her questions were pushed aside for the time being and she focused on the rest of the assembly. She would have to check with Charlie and Myles at lunch to see if either of them had it too.

---

_{Tuesday, Sept 3. | The ‘Loft’}

Emily gradually climbed the stairs up to the loft. The atmosphere of the school seemed to change from modern and high tech to something older. It left her pondering the change with awe and timidness. Her self-preservation instinct voted for a retreat, but her curiosity spurred her onward. It didn’t help her aid remained downstairs, informing her that she wasn’t necessary for the last class period. Fear about communication issues began to plague Emily’s courage. Despite that, she kept moving. Eventually, she managed to reach the classroom’s entrance and walk-in.

She stopped in her tracks for a moment. What she expected was several lines of aged desks and boring charts or decor fitting to the teaching subject. Instead, there were large couches facing the teacher’s desk. It gave it an old, musty den feel. Not the classic classroom at all. Realizing she might’ve been holding up any late students, she moved toward Myles.

Her best friend listened to his earphones, enjoying the beats. Emily scooped up the syllabus and pass card before she sat down. She gave the second item a quick look over. The card made her a bit excited to be included in something other than a special needs class. She tapped Myles on the shoulder then signed a greeting. A genuine smile crossed her face at seeing one of the two familiar faces here. When she spotted Charlie, she signed for him to sit beside them and moved over a bit. All her earlier anxiety appeared to have faded in the company of friends.

After chatting with Myles and Charlie for a bit, she caught signing from the corner of her vision. Abruptly her head turned to the front of the classroom. Surprise crossed her expression at seeing the fluid movements that introduced him to everyone. Emily couldn’t help but lean in, engaging in the fact he involved her. A rarity for her, even at Mather Memorial.

Her body leaned back into her seat when he mentioned using his first name rather than Mr. Lehrer. She turned to Myles then Charlie, signing a single word. Weird. She wondered if the other two agreed with her. When his signing turned to the subject of the syllabus, it explained why it needed a signature. Since Charlie and Myles were both in the class, she didn’t think her parents would deny her going on the trips.

The question on the board was not one she looked forward to. Introductions and communications were difficult enough when it came to receiving them, but making them? That was a nightmare she still struggled to overcome. She crossed her arms over her chest as she considered a possible solution. Thankfully, a dark-haired student rose to the challenge and attacked the question with gusto. If it wasn’t for Mr. Lehrer signing, Emily would’ve only caught one in about six words if she was lucky. Lip reading failed miserable for a number of reasons. Accents and terrible pronunciation were a few big ones on that list.

While she wanted to go up there and get her intro done, Emily hasn't finished figuring out what to say. To lighten her nerves, she turned to her friends with a question.

One of you two want to go next? Or should we draw straws? The last bit was meant to be a joke, her lips curled into a smile to make it obvious.

Oleander

---

There were stories upon stories about dogs being heroes. It was why he had taken this form.

A Golden Retriever pulls a baby from a burning house. A German Shepard taking a bullet for their handler. A Labrador calling neighbors when their owner has fallen and cant get up. A Dachshund standing up to bear to defend their home. Stories that were essentially modern legends singing of their feats of loyalty or sacrifice- Hachikō waited for his master for years at the train station. Balto transported the Diphtheria antitoxin six hundred miles through sleet and hail and snow to Nome. It was for this reason what he had assumed this state. A Familiar's job, their whole purpose, was to protect their masters. What better than man's best friend?

Some of his kin followed different philosophies than he did. He understood their choice, sometimes. Depending on their master's place in this world it would be appropriate to assume the form of a bear, or a lion. However, these creatures elicited fear in the societies they ventured into. They were met with resistance, and what good was strength if one could not apply it? Similarly, some preferred to be nimble, and oversee from above. Birds of all shapes and sizes, bats, insects... He could understand this philosophy as well. Being small made one hard to spot, and the power of flight? Being able to see for miles was a powerful warning system. As with the mighty beasts, though, it had its drawbacks. Namely the distance they had to maintain to play to such strengths. What good was an early warning if none were there to hear it?

Being a dog was an easy middle ground, Oleander felt. His methods and mentality were tried and true. He was an old familiar, with dozens of generations under his belt. His experience had lent itself to his shape, for there was no better state than a dog. People didn't question his appearance indoors or outdoors, or the fact that he followed his master wherever she went. That's just what dogs did. They were walked, and run regularly. They were loyal to their keepers and guardians of the hearth. All things considered, they were the familiars of the mundane world. It was a no brainer- the mundane world was the world they were trying to blend into, after all. There were some caveats though. He was a fairly sizable dog, so in some places it was more difficult to hide. There was not perfect solution to that without their disadvantages. There were also many places that did not allow mundane familiars- or 'pets' as they called them. This school was one of them.

The ever nearing date that Kayla had marked as 'first day of school' on her calendar had been approaching for some time now. He dreaded these days ever since the end of the industrial revolution, when education began to take hold. Pets were not allowed on school grounds, and his job became that much more difficult. Much like his master, he spent every moment waiting for their release, the weekends, the breaks, the long weekends, and the time designated to tend to fields that had been rebranded to summer vacation. It was not his job to judge his master for she had many redeeming qualities to her person, but she spent very little time ever tending the fields of the farm. Even less than any of his masters before her. He had mixed feelings on this. At least she was easier to track.

Getting in and out of the school for Kayla was a song and dance Oleander had done many times before. Two-thousand-two-hundred-eighty-one times now, if his memory served correct. Since she had begun kindergarten twelve years ago. He was good at it, by this point. He knew exactly when to get in, and when to leave. He often simply hitched a ride in the back of the beaten truck that had been clinging to life for what he swore was almost as long as he had, and left the flatbed around half an hour after her classes began. It had no roof, but he never minded the sleet or the rain. She oftentimes lectured him half heartedly when he stole her class schedule and memorized it, but it was his own form of homework. The floor plan of the school had been more difficult to obtain, so he had settled to memorizing the floor plan through trial and error. He had long since learned which bathrooms were closest to which classes. Some were a bit further than others then he'd like, but Oleander knew that being physically next to her at all times was not realistic. However he would not give up. He would never give up. Protecting her was his duty. He would not fail.

Oleander had taken to bringing a small bag with a chessboard and the pieces with him to the school with him. It was a tad more difficult to get in, but it was worth the extra heartache, he felt. It passed the time. He had left the truck, and scaled the fence along the school, paced through the halls quickly, and locked himself in one of the men's bathroom stalls by using his mouth on the latch. He found that they were less likely to be used than those in the women's bathrooms. He played against himself often, but never became too distracted. He had to move often. With every bell he remained, moving only after the footsteps had ended and the doors had all shut to the restroom closest to his master. Kayla was always within earshot, and he would always be listening. Danger loomed darkest when suspicion was low. He would not allow a surprise attack. He would not fail.

Oleander's gaze rose to a window as a shadow passed and obscured the light. A great grey owl landed, on what was likely the roof of the building and gazed down at the dog. A small black cat joined it shortly, likely having scaled the building to join its companion. They were like him. He could tell by the way the light hit their eyes. His gaze shifted between the two of them, and the owl eyes off of him as well. The cat seemed dreary.

Tell me, little one, why do you want to be free?

The cat met his gaze and the owl shifted uncomfortably, finally averting her eyes.

You tell me.

The bell rings again, and the two are gone. He waits a while, and then moves himself. Duty calls. He finds himself in the last bathroom of the day, but the smell of a certain blood caught his attention. The fur on his back stands on end. Hunter, he thinks. His mind races, and then so does he. Oleander tears through the halls to Kayla's location- it's a room that he had not been to before. This worries him. He would not fail. He would not fail. He would not fail.

The husky skids to a halt, and readies himself to turn the door handle with his paws and defend her. To the death he would always defend her. But he stops- the scent is not strong enough to be a blood hunter. He rears and places his paws against the door and peers through the window. There she is, his Kayla. She is safe and sound, and he feels his body sag with relief at that. The coppery, iron scent in his nose directs him to an older man. He is not one of them. He will not harm her. Kayla's gaze shifts-ever attentive she is, when she hears his weight fall against the door. Her face breaks out into a grin and she marches to the door. Oleander pushes himself off just before she pulls the door open to let him in.

"Oleander!" She says, joy in her voice. He rushes her, but does not jump. He rubs along her legs as he circles her, marking her with his scent to ward off any would be attackers and to check her over for injuries. He would not fail her.

"What are you doing here?" She says as she kneels down and runs her hand down the back of his head and neck several times. He leans into her hand, welcoming the affection. "Sorry everyone!" she says, turning back to the others. They smell different than her, but similar all the same. They were like her. He would watch them, too, until their guardians returned. "He must've missed me. You know how huskies are. Probably should've expected this on the first day back." she laughs, and returns to her seat. He follows after her, sitting next to her diligently and quietly. It occurred to him that he'd have to acquire his chess set once again- he had left it in the bathroom when he had run to her. No matter, that could be replaced. He would not leave her side for something so trivial as his hobby.

For he would never fail her.

---

^{Tuesday, September 3rd || Mather Memorial: Journalism Room}
“Rough morning? Or is it just the food coma kicking in?” Clarence asked.

A few chuckles ran through the otherwise quiet journalism room as the new students shifted in their seats. At the front of the class where the paper’s staff sat and stood along with the other returning members, Addy looked out at the new recruits, a flat smile on her face. So this is what she had to work with her senior year. Great.

“Well, whatever the case, welcome to newspaper! My name is Clarence, and I’ll be your editor-in-chief this year,” Clarence continued. “In the back we have Mr. Morrison, our teacher advisor, and beside me is the rest of The Raven staff.”

On cue, the staff waved, Addy among them. Unfortunately, no amount of impatience was going to make this cheesy intro go faster.

“This class is where we, the Raven staff, write and compile articles for our award-winning publication, and by ‘award’ we mean ‘awards,’” Clarence continued, indicating the side wall where numerous certificates and engraved plates hung. “So, real quick, let’s run through everyone on the staff. Give us your name, year, position, and… what you did over the summer.”

Addy managed not to pull a face. Whether or not Clarence had run the schedule by her was irrelevant; icebreaker questions were a waste of time.

“I’ll start. My name is Clarence, and, again, your editor-in-chief. I’m a senior, and this summer I volunteered abroad in Costa Rica.”

He looked to his left to Tabs, who grinned.

“Hey all, I’m Tabitha, but you can call me Tabs. I’m your news head, junior, and this summer I visited France and Italy. If any of you are thinking of going, feel free to hit me up for restaurant recommendations.”

She turned her grin on Addy, who resisted rolling her eyes. Petty.

“Hi everyone, I’m Addy, and I’m your other news head this year,” Addy said, waving as she pointedly avoided Tabs’ grin. “I’m also a junior, and this summer I worked at Espresso House in West Crestwood. They had me at ‘unlimited caffeine.’”

On the staff intros went, Clarence transitioning the stage to the new members after the last member of the staff finished speaking. Addy perked up at this, watching as the new members picked between flexing their familial wealth and easing the tension with a cheesy joke or two about their summers. Since this was her future staff, she had to separate the investments from the weeds and figure out who was both a good writer and here to stay. The weeds were the people here looking for a grade or a requirement, and after the year was over, they’d pick a different class and move on. The investments were the ones who were looking to stay, and the good ones were staying not because commitment looked good on college applications but because they were truly interested in writing for the paper. These were the people Addy—as well as the paper—would benefit most from having around, and Addy appreciated a hard worker.

When intros were done, the group moved on to story overviews, where the column heads briefed the group on what was being worked on for the week. Though Tabs and she jockeyed a bit for the stage, they managed to keep the news brief relatively tame, and soon enough the talk was done and the period was just about over, as was customary on days when column heads gave briefs. Clarence opened the rest of the time up for story sign-ups, encouraging new members to talk to column heads to sign up for some basic reporting, and after Addy talked to a new face or two, the bell rang and she was onto her next class.

---

^{Tuesday, September 3rd || Mather Memorial: The Loft}
The front row was the last choice for many, but it was always the first for Addy. Sitting there guaranteed that the teacher would notice you, guaranteed that you’d make a good impression provided you paid attention and participated some. In fact, sitting in front actually detracted from suspicion, as some of the kids in her AP classes had figured out. Cheating in the front row ran rampant in classrooms where the teacher’s desk was positioned in the back, but this class wasn’t an AP class.

Though this classroom had no front seats, it still had a front, and that’s where Addy headed as soon as she entered. Sitting down at one of the cushions beside Jonas’ desk, Addy watched as her new peers flowed in, watched as both upper and underclassmen joined her in the dusty classroom that had likely seen better days years ago. ‘Social Conscience’ sounded about as far from an academic class as one could get, and the fact that sophomores and—could it be?—freshmen were here with her meant it was probably going to be a survey class of sorts. Maybe the school was taking a census for their next new program, or maybe they were finally getting around to singling out the problem students. Though Addy was pretty sure there was nothing of note with Charlie or Demi, she was just as sure of there being something to note with Kayla and herself. Perhaps the school was finally going to get back at her for writing all those controversial articles. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time the school tried to do something; though publicizing issues tended to take the heat off her and put it on her subject in the eyes of the community, she’d been called in for a fair number of talks with the principal, and they were on a tense first-name basis of sorts.

However, that Rosalyn was here called that all into question. While some rich folk were certainly touchable, Rosalyn’s family name preceded her, as did their impact on—and therefore influence in—the community. Even Addy had to cave a little when it came to the Osbornes, but Rosalyn knew that their relationship didn’t mean she got off scot-free for everything. Or, at least, she'd be better off if she assumed that.

If Addy had boundaries, though, the school had even less, so Rosalyn being here meant the class was not some sort of half-baked attempt at reformation. In that case, was it really just a new class, enrolling a random pool of students for its first trial? Whatever it was, Addy was going to find out. After class. When she cornered Mr. Jonas Lehrer to politely ask him for a time when she could interview him about the class. The student body had a right to know what he was teaching, or at least that’d be Addy’s sell—not that she thought she needed one. Any new teacher who didn’t want to advertise themselves and get their name out to the student body was a teacher looking to get booted, and new teachers generally wanted to stay.

When Jonas started talking, he confirmed some of Addy’s suspicions and dispelled others, introducing the class as what it was: some sort of anti-depression self-help course. Naturally, Addy was about done with the class by the time he introduced his semi-innovative icebreaker. Though trips were nice and all, she wasn’t looking forward to doing anything, much less going anywhere, with this lot of people. At the very least, though, she had a firsthand take on every story she might write to cover this class, which she hoped would be many. The class had a varied cast, after all, and though most of them seemed like reasonable folk, perhaps Felix would be inclined to punch Aiden again after a heated bus trip, or Kayla’s friend would mysteriously decide to strike during one of their trips. There was no way to know for sure, but Addy had her fingers crossed.

Kayla stood up to introduce herself first, ending with a question for Jonas. When she sat back down, silence settled in for a second, only to be broken by the entrance of a large black-and-white dog. A husky, if Addy was recalling her dog names correctly, and one who Kayla quickly named as Oleander, thus marking it as hers. At this, Addy checked for Jonas’ reaction. Depending on his response, she could use this as an anecdote in the story. Unfortunately, that plan fell through since he opted to silently wait for the class to calm down from his place in the front.

When quiet fell again, Addy cleared her throat, giving the class a small wave. Standing up was a hassle.

“Hi everyone, I’m Addy. I’m a junior, one of the news heads for The Raven, and whatever else you might think of me because, well, there’s probably a kernel of truth in that.”

She yielded the floor with a thin smile, hoping someone else would keep the snowball rolling because right now, Social Conscience was shaping up to be a boring class of non-talkers.

N A L A J O H N S O N:

---

By the time she had arrived at the assembly, it was late and mostly-filled with a whole lot of other students, the principal and other teachers were already beginning to take their positions, and with barely anytime at all to find her friends, Nala simply found her seat at one of the unoccupied places on the bleachers. The assembly began a minute later, and she tried to look as discreetly as she could for anyone that she knew, but the position she was at made it difficult to find anything through this crowd. After a couple more minutes of failure in her search, she decided to call the search off, and simply focus on whatever the principal was trying to get across to the student body this morning. A new addition to the school faculty, a man called Mr. Lehrer. She didn't know what to think about his corny joke about spreading wings. Jokes may not be his thing, but who was she to judge? She was beginning to feel more bored than she'd hoped to be.

Just less than half an hour ago, she'd been so excited at the thought of returning back to school, but here she was now, not even an hour into school, and she was actually starting to wish the day be over. In an attempt to curb her boredom, she glanced around at other student, trying to see if she could find anything interesting. The sight of girl seated not too far away from her looking at her schedule, made her want to do the same. The thought of that new class in her schedule this semester made her curious. What was this Social Conscience, and where in the world did it pop out of from? Her results weren't the best by any margin, and it took her darnest to actually maintain her grades within the B-C range. Hoping to meet up with the others after one of the most boring assembly ever, her wish for it to end wouldn't be much longer now.

---

She was late again. This wasn't going to become a habit she swore. It was just first day bad luck that she hadn't quite shook off yet, she reassured herself. It was time to find out more about this Social Conscience class. Expecting the setting of a typical classroom with tables and chairs, Nala did a double take when couches were all that were present instead. Interesting. She was starting to feel like this class was not your ordinary class, and somehow that intrigued her to discover what else followed. The sight of the teacher in charge somehow made everything today feel so weird connected. Mr. Lehrer, the new guy heading this new class she'd never ever heard of?

She wondered if all of his classes involved couches. That would prove to be very comfortable indeed. Oh-so Mr. Lehrer has a first name. He wanted them to call his Jonas instead, like the Jonas brothers. She could do that. It was easier anyway. She wasn't one of those sticklers that refused to call their superiors by their first names no matter the circumstances. The class soon filled and the space on the couches were soon all taken by everyone else who apparently needed a little 'Social Conscience' in them. Their first task of the day? Introductions. Nala wasn't really a fan of introductions. She did them when they were needed, but she prefer things to go organically, and mandatory introductions always felt a little forced to her. Fortunately, she didn't have to go first. Or second. Third felt alright to her. It was doable. Standing up, she put on her best smile, one of the warm ones everyone loved and gave a casual wave to the others as she spoke in that posh London accent that so many people seemed to love. "Heyo! I'm Nala Johnson, a Junior. I'm originally from London, but moved to the Cresthollow two years ago." Turning to Mr. Lehrer, she threw him a question. "So, let me guess, the rumour of a fourth Jonas brother is true?"

R O S A L Y N O S B O R N E

---

Bluetooth earbuds discreetly tucked beneath neatly-formed curtains of bright hair had been Rosalyn’s saving grace for much of the morning. However, she still offered wide smiles to familiar faces and engaged in conversations that warranted or expected her participation. The parties planned for the first week back, who had grown facial hair over the summer, and the newest relationship updates were all topics of interest.

Felix Brooks and his long-time girlfriend Claire had finally called it quits, a game of chess that Rosalyn had long been dabbling in. But, really, if a few playful forearm touches was enough to break the two, were they really doing that well? She had done Felix a favor by helping to free him from that situation. Claire was sour, spoiled with jealousy, and therefore doing everything she could to save her name, even if it meant sacrificing someone else’s.

Preparing for, managing, and even fulfilling rumors about her had become a part-time job for Rosalyn Osborne, though she saw it more as a hobby. Each day she seemed to learn more about who she was. She wasn’t aware that she had been raised in foster homes until last year. Good ‘ol Joseph Osborne was her very own Daddy Warbucks according to Mathers Memorial High. She had slept with more people than she had even shared a hello with, had spent time in jail for arson, and had paid her way out of a failed semester once. All of these stories unbeknownst to their main character until the whispers eventually found their way back to her.

Rosalyn hurriedly nudged her way through the library’s main doors with her shoulder, as both hands were occupied and her bag was slowly, and painfully, descending down her arm. Her fingers were stretched around and threaded between three disposable coffee cups, a familiar logo plastered on the side. It had been easy to slip out of the school to Joe’s once the assembly had been called to an end and would be even easier to later claim her first-day tardiness was due to class confusion.

Rosalyn moved to Mrs. Macleod’s desk with a genuine smile, skillfully placing one of the cups there while still holding a grip on the remaining two. The older woman raised her head from deep within a book, staring down her nose and through the pair of glasses teetering at its end. She reflected the grin offered back, seemingly pleased to recognize the student.

“Now, Wanda, you feel free to add something a little warmer to this. That hip is not gonna be happy with the way you were throwing it back out there.” A wink from the young woman was swatted out of the air by Mrs. Macleod, but even she couldn't help but chuckle at herself.

Free reign to the library during lunch periods and after the school day had come at the small price of occasional gifts to and conversation with the librarian. This unspoken deal was solidified last year when this escape was the only thing keeping Rosalyn relatively sane. Well, this was still to be determined. She moved to her usual spot in a far corner concealed by shelving, placing the remaining drinks on a side table, one on each side, and settling into an oversized armchair with cushions that had been long used and abused. Despite the inescapable fluorescent lights strewn throughout the entire school, this little nook had proven to be relatively comfortable.

The Sound and the Fury was settled open into Rosalyn’s lap, her page previously held by a bobby pin she was now twirling between her teeth. Half of her notebook page had been filled and much of her coffee had been drained before she realized she was still alone there. Maybe he got caught up. And it was the first day back. Expecting him to even remember this routine was silly. She feigned her disappointment with a roll of her eyes, though she couldn’t help but glance to the now chilled cup of chai tea, his name delicately scrawled in cursive ink across the side. Even the barista had remembered who it was being made for.

. . .

“Aw, wow! What a collection of bargain thrift store finds!” Rosalyn chirped as she stepped into the classroom. The unique arrangement of furniture was hard to ignore, but it was no accident that Rosalyn’s gaze bounced between Aiden Roth and a few of the others already seated with this comment. “I mean, the decor has some vintage, boho-esque vibes too... Cute.”

Jonas Lehrer was the next person her attention fell to, her eyebrows raising and lips pursing slightly. “Ahem. Definitely cute,” she muttered, finding a place for herself.

This was strange. The wild collage of personalities forced into the space, half of which had names she couldn’t remember, was enough to throw Rosalyn off. Then suddenly there was a dog? And talk of the Jonas brothers, who had lost all of her interest after each being married off. Rosalyn's palms had grown damp and she instinctively raised her shoulders in an attempt to draw more air into her lungs. Some sort of control over this situation was required and she was quickly to her feet in front of the group, though she remained stationed in front of her seat. Walking to the front in this state, in these heels, on this ancient floor was asking for embarrassment.

“Hello, my name is Rosalyn,” the young woman paused to slightly nod her head forward in a greeting. “A part of my identify that I think would be valuable to share is that I would actually rather be at a picnic with the Donner Party than be standing here right now.”

Rosalyn’s voice maintained the same chime it always did when she knew she was being ill-tempered. She clasped her hands in front of herself and scanned the space, mannerisms synonymous to that of a preschool teacher managing a room full of toddlers. This was entirely a deliberate way for her to mock the exercise she was being forced to endure without actually giving Mr. Lehrer a reason to reprimand her for it.

“I hope we can all get to know one another on a more personal level before I officially decide whether or not I will toss myself out of that window,” a quick gesture of her hand demonstrated the exact glass pane she would launch herself through,“or before we all get diagnosed with Mesothelioma from the asbestos now floating around in our lungs.”

---

The household is much more chaotic this morning, it’s the boy’s first day starting at the new school and Kindle can tell better than anyone else that his human is nervous. Very nervous. If the unfamiliar surroundings and the stress of their entire lives being uprooted to move across the world from England to America weren’t bad enough, the local news reports which were currently blaring from the small TV in the living room added an extra layer of tension.

A local girl had gone missing very recently, and Kindle had a gut instinct as to why. This was supposed to be the first day he butted out, tried to let the boy stretch his wings on his own. But with the headlines blaring from the news channel as Kwesi and his dad chatted around the breakfast table, Kindle decided he could not bear that thought. What if something happened to his human at the school and he couldn’t get there in time to help him?

No, no, that wouldn’t do. He couldn’t risk that at all. He would have to go with. It was partly why he had chosen this form to reside in, it was small and easily concealed. It allowed him to slip unnoticed into his human’s backpack and curl up somewhere beneath the piles of books and stationary, where he would stay until he was needed. And if something went wrong, he would be on Kwesi’s person at all times and he would be able to intervene and protect the boy.

He would not meet the same fate as this girl. Kindle would not allow it.

---

---

As far as first days could go, this one had been alright. It could have been far worse, but Kwesi had deliberately tried to keep his head down and stay quiet. That was the best way to avoid trouble, in his experience. He’d settled in a seat near the edge at the Assembly and remained there as he listened to the updates that were given, glancing up from his study of his class schedule only briefly when Mr Lehrer was introduced. It would appear he had a lesson with the man later on in the day, so today was a day full of new things, apparently.

And here he now was, in the place called ‘The Loft’. Kwesi had to admit it looked a little bit old-fashioned and dusty, but other than that...it seemed comfortable enough. He’d kept to himself for most of the day, truthfully because he wasn’t too sure how to go about trying to approach the other students to introduce himself. He’d smiled, nodded and waved, more today than he ever had in England, but he hoped it was a good enough start.

In an effort to try and appear more integrated with this class group, Kwesi found the first empty seat he could and plopped himself into it, giving the brunette beside him a polite smile as he did so, before his attention turned back to Jonas as the man began to speak. Even Kwesi couldn’t stifle a snicker at Nala’s Jonas Brother joke, though he at least had the presence of mind to raise a hand to cover his nose and mouth and pretend it was a sneeze as he did so.

Looking to the question on the board, Kwesi listened patiently as both Nala and Rosalyn gave their introductions, tapping his fingers against his calf absently as he wondered whether he should go next. He’d have to introduce himself to all of them at some point, might as well get it over with. He made a mental note to stay away from Rosalyn unless he absolutely couldn’t avoid it, from the scathing tone of the blonde’s voice, he deduced he’d have nothing but a hard time with her. Once she had finished speaking, Kwesi lifted his hand into the air to go next.
“Hi there.” with Nala in the class as well, he felt a little bit less self-conscious about his accent, meaning Kwesi was able to keep his voice surprisingly steady as he spoke, even if he was nervous as hell. “My name’s Kwesi, I’m also from England, though I come from a little further down south than London. I’ve been here in the States for a few months so I’m still getting used to things, but it’s nice to meet you all.”

---

_{Tuesday, Sept 3. | The ‘Loft’}

While Emily waited for an answer, her nose inhaled an odd scent. Most people assumed deaf or blind people had superhuman senses. This wasn’t true, they were just more aware of the ones they had and noticed differences faster. Instinctively she turned toward the door to see Kayla pop up then let a large, needy husky in. She looked at her friends then she made a quick sign that boiled down to 'Uh?'

She watched the dog follow Kayla back to her seat, finding an ideal place at her feet. It was a cute dog. Emily smiled at the thought of her mother and father mentioned of getting one for her. It would take time because of funds and finding a suitable canine. Not to mention the whole bonding process which lowered her odds.

Brushing off the thought, she continued to read Mr. Lehrer’s hands. He flowed well and fell only slightly behind the pace of each student's introductions. While she couldn’t hear the tone, she could easily guess they enjoyed this as much as she did. For different reasons completely. She couldn't speak properly, often sounding like a screamer or slow. When her turn arrived, she rose upright and walked to the chalkboard.

Upon spotting the teacher preparing to translate her words she held up her hand. Emily quickly signed the reason. I will use the chalkboard instead. After he stepped back, she reached for the chalk and began to write neatly on the board.

Hello, my name is Emily Sawyer. I am deaf. This is my first year officially and it’s a pleasure to meet you all. If you want to chat, I tend to carry a notebook and pen with me. Just tap me on the shoulder and write on your hand with a finger.

She set the chalk down and turned to the class, a small smile of pride on her lips. With a casual step, she walked back to her seat.

---

A small, dark shape fluttered from the local tree into the Loft’s window. His little legs stretched out his claws and snagged whatever crevices he could. Gently he began to hang down into a comfortable position. Carefully hidden in the darkest part, two little black eyes peered in. He watched Emily walk from the chalkboard back to her seat. The moment she sat down, she began signing to Myles and her other friend. His spade-shaped nose twitched. Feeling it would be a while, his wings folded up against his body and shielded him from the daylight.

Relief washed over him to see her safe, especially when she evaded his limited sight. His head cocked when he spotted the other magni within the room. Some he knew, like Myles, due to his agreement with the familiar. That they would watch the two magni whenever the other couldn’t. Each one putting forth their own unique skill set to protect the pair. The wolf had smell and fangs, a perfect defense for immediate action. He had hearing and flight, perfect for recon. It was an added perk that he could sometimes get away with flying in broad daylight. Humans weren’t the most observant beings around.

His eyes never left her as he settled in. When school ended, he would flutter away and follow the pair home.