Unmasked Heroes (Book 1)

Chapter 5

Always forgive your enemies. Nothing annoys them so much - Oscar Wilde

I slept away in class, again.

It's big news. Headline making even.

Not.

Waking up to the sound of the bell ringing is somehow worse than the blaring rupture of my alarm clock, but the results are still the same. I'm so disorientated as I stumble out of class, eerily similar to a drunken man staggering late at night. I wash my face with icy cold water from the girl's bathroom, before stalking to the cafeteria with one thought in mind. Food. Lots of it. I hadn't realised how hungry I was until my stomach growled in the most unladylike manner.

Don't get me wrong, the Lighters feed me fine, but my school actually serves decent lunch. Not that white gooey stuff you see on television. Gross.

Outside the cafeteria, I bypassed several wooden picnic tables that the school set up to help with a connect-with-nature programme the student council were organising. Predictably it was Penelope's idea and her father had volunteered to pay for the new furniture upgrades. He also suggested the new school menu so I can't hate the man, Damien Greene too much.

And Dex says I'm a bad person.

Instead of resorting to using a table, I find my regular spot under the big oak tree that faces towards the sports field. No one comes this side in a hurry and the peaceful atmosphere is exactly what I look for. Dusting orange and brown, crisp autumn leaves from the shrivelled-up yellow grass, I relax beneath the nurturing shade the tree provides. The sun warms my face, bronzing my pale skin. I pull out my jacket, throwing it over my outstretched legs and my bandage-wrapped arms are instantly exposed. I lean back against the cool, hard bark, my eyes closed.

"Hey."

My eyes fly open, and I squint, staring at a silhouette dark against the sun. Broad shoulders block the immensity of sunlight, creating a perfectly photogenic image of contours and sharp angles.

"Yes, Skye?" I phrase my greeting as a question. Because why on Earth would the school's star soccer player be standing out here when he should be in the cafeteria joking with his friends?

"Um," he shuffles under my piercing grey-eyed gaze. Most people do and I'm not surprised how freaked he is to be partaking in this awkward conversation.

"Is there a reason you're here?" I ask tersely, my expression guarded. "Or are you simply going to stand there?"

I shouldn't be so rude; he hasn't done anything. Despite that nagging thought in the back of my mind, wariness creeps up on me. People like him don't associate with me frequently. So, either Skye wants something desperately or this is just some kind of elaborate prank. I pray it's the first. Humiliation was not on my agenda today.

"Actually, I thought I'd give you company," he scratches the back of his neck uncomfortably and his ears slowly turn pink, peeking out from his wavy brown hair.

I raise a brow in disbelief, my voice accusatory. "Really? You want to hang out with the school's freak?"

He frowns, plopping down on the grass, cross-legged without an invite. "You are not a freak. Why would you think that?"

"Yeah, just take a seat why don't you?" I mutter sarcastically. "I am a freak, okay? I am the social outcast – that's my label. And you're the popular jock."

Skye looks at me carefully, his heavy amber gaze just as cutting as my own. I feel stupid for blurting out such an insensitive comment.

"That ridiculous," he says and clarifies when I shoot him a look. "Labels, I mean. We're in high school, we don't have ourselves figured out as yet to be categorised as someone specific."