Silver Eyes

*Erin*

I felt as if the stall walls were closing in around me. The tight space with peeling paint and foul smells was suffocating. I tried to catch my breathe but it didn't work. The tears flowed out of me like Niagra Falls.

Crying wasn't an activity I enjoyed. It showed weakness and vulnerability. With the chaos going on in the world today, it seemed as if there was no way to stop the tears from streaming down my face.

I was still in shock from the text. Though the more I thought about it, the more optimistic I became. Maybe good would come from it. Though in the far back of my mind there was a tiny voice laughing at my optimism. But with a war going on, all you could do was hope.

Hope for it to be over. Hope for the people to stop fighting. Hope that no one you care about will get drafted into the army.

The last hope was broken as soon as I received the text message. I knew there had to have been something wrong because no one ever texted me. The shy little artist who sat in the back of the class and doodled all over the cover of her notebook. Who never said a word to stand up for herself. That was me.

So when someone texted me in the middle of math class, I freaked.

It was a text from my mother reading:

"Come home right after school. Your brother has been drafted."

I had thought that for sure he would be happy about it. He always talked about fighting for his country. So I thought he was ready for it.

But I sure wasn't. A new set of tears ran down my cheeks. Being sent into the war was suicide. You either won the whole thing or died trying. Right then, everyone was trying.

Not that we could help it. It had been a fact since 2021. The Republic of Renico had greatly surpassed the good old USA in education, resources, and military. Naturally, the next step for the Renicoians was to take over the the other powerful countries.

Now, most of Europe was gone, and America was the next target. Unfortunately our government was stupid enough to decide to not to go down without a fight. Thousands of people died every day and now, my brother would be one of them.

"Hello?" A strained voice called out.

Had someone come in there? I hadn't even heard them. I quickly wiped my tears from my eyes and tried to make my messy, light brown hair a little more presentable, but gave up, knowing it was no use. My hair never cooperated.

Hesitantly I creaked open the door to see who was on the other side. Just when I thought my whole day couldn't get any weirder. Standing in front of me was some sort of lion man with a mane and claws. Any normal girl would have screeched and ran for the halls, but I was too upset from before. I had cried out all my emotions, and was to numb to do anything but stare.

It cleared its throat, and that's when the fear settled in. The shock had registered, but before my girly scream erupted out of my mouth like a volcano, it spoke.

"Uhh. Well, I'm not really sure what's wrong with me." Its voice sounded masculine so I called it a he. He gestured to himself whilst talking.

"So, what's wrong with you then?" I stuttered on my words as I stood paralysed, my mouth hung open. Silence fell as he cleared his throat.

"Well. I told you, I don't really know. My name is Thomas. I know you, but you probably don't know me. All I know is that this started when I turned fourteen. That was a month ago."

As he finished his explanation he looked down at the floor, like he thought he was a disgrace of some sort.
A freak of nature. "It's okay. I know you. Is it really you, Thomas?"

"Yeah. I can see that you want to leave. You should go." He replied sheepishly, staring at the floor. I ignored his depressing words.

I cleared my throat and stared at him. He made a poor excuse for a lion, lanky and awkward even in animal form, like his claws were too big for his body. But I did know him, actually. He was the kid who always sat in the back of the class, barely talking, almost invisible. That's why he was so noticeable to me, and I'd always wondered about the kid with the natural silver hair and the too bright green eyes. But those eyes never gleamed with excitement or glee, like they should've. They were always dull with unhappiness, always full of his emotions that he never seemed to share with anyone but himself. I know what he felt like. I, too, was shy and purposely stayed away from the "popular" people in our grade. I was never know for being a particularly happy person either.

Seeing him standing there as a king of the jungle, but still looking like a mouse, I felt a pang of sympathy towards him. I took pity on him and staggered onto my feet. I cautiously wrapped my arms around his waist, hugging a boy other than my brother for the first time. He stood frozen for a few seconds, his body rigid. Until he finally realized I wasn't assaulting him, he gave in and squeezed me back. I sighed with relief, glad I wasn't the only one expressing emotion.

"Hey don't worry. I'll help you figure out what is happening. Everything happens for a reason, so don't freak out too soon. There has to be an explanation for this!" I told him using all the optimism I had left. I saw a shadow of a smile on his face.

In a skeleton of a voice, he spoke, "Are you okay?"

I laughed to myself at how he was worrying about me, while he was standing in the middle of a girls bathroom as a half man-lion. I was about to open up to him, when he started shaking. His golden mane flickered and transformed into the unnatural silver I was used to. His fur that was soft to the touch receded back his skin, and he groaned in relief. He grimaced as his body rose back to normal, his spine curling into a human position. The dark claws grew back into his short, stubby fingers, and in the blink of an eye, he was back to himself. Clothes and all. Thankfully.

"Yeah, I have no idea how to control whatever this is." I noticed he spoke with his hands, and it was adorable.

Then, before he could finish, the bell echoed throughout the halls, and under the door of the girls bathroom, and he ran out of there faster than a cheetah. (Or a lion, I must add.) He seemed happy to escape anymore awkward interactions. People would wonder why the shy and awkward boy from the back of the class was in the girls bathroom, instead of in class. I could understand why. In the process, the pocket-sized black notebook he always wrote in fell out of the back pocket of his black jeans. I had the sudden urge to run after him, but decided to leave him be, for now.

I creeped towards the notebook and carefully picked it up off the ground. It was leather, and soft to the touch. I ran my fingertips along the cover, intrigued. I told myself it was personal, but I decided to stick it in the back pocket of my jeans, making a note to return it to him later.

Written by cgc359 edited by reirei13 and coliet27