Irina Taylor, a girl who lives in the 1940s with the gift to see any human's soul, goes from a social outcast to a prophecy come true. But there is a realm that coexists with ours, invisible to the majority of mankind; only a select few can see thro...
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𝓐ꜰᴛᴇʀᴛʜᴇʟᴀꜱᴛ bell rang, I met Genny and Annika in the hallway to walk home together as we always did. "Can I come over to your house?" Genny asked.
"Your father won't be mad? His face was redder than a beet when he saw me with you last time."
"Which is exactly why I need to spend more time with you to spite him, of course."
I grinned mischievously at her as the three of us walked out of the front door together. I grunted when I saw Charlie, the new boy, talking to a group of seniors—who were the rudest men in school. He danced nervously, doing a little side shuffle as he waved his hands. He saw us and smiled. "Hey, Genny! Hey Irina!"
"You know them?" one of the boys sneered.
"Yeah," he said ecstatically.
James Belcourt, the man all girls except me drooled over, scoffed at me and said loud enough to hear, "Don't talk to her. She is strange. I mean, look at her. She dresses like a guy. C'mon."
"Jerkface!" Annika yelled in what she thought was a moment of seven-year-old bravery. I glared at her as a silent warning to shut her trap.
"What's wrong with that?" Charlie asked with a shrug. "I think she looks good."
James huffed again. No one ever dared disagree with him. I had always been cautious of who I befriended. Maybe Charlie hadn't gained my friendship yet, but he had my respect.
One of the other boys laughed. "Why don't you marry her then?"
"Simple. Because she is too good for anyone in this lowlife town, especially the men at this school." He eyed them up and down before jogging to our sides, leaving the group of guys flushed and infuriated. I tried to hide my smirk of approval, but he saw it.
"Charlie Charleston, huh?" I said, stepping in front of him as we walked away from the school grounds. He went rigid when I stepped in his path. After a tense moment of silence, I extended my arm to shake his hand." His eyes grew wide.
"Are you sure? I mean, I thought you didn't like shaking—"
"I don't. . . Usually. Now hurry before I change my mind."
"Okay, okay." He shook my hand proudly, but instantly, his emotions came flooding in. He had a naturally joyful disposition, however that joy masked an unmistakable pain and suffering. It was a deep, devastating pain, but he hid it well, a skill only learned with prolonged practice. He smiled dorkily, oblivious to my new knowledge.
We all stood there awkwardly for a wink before Genny piped in, "We are all walking to Irina's house if you'd like to join."
