The Sun Weilders

11

I stared at the old leather-covered journal, its pages yellowed with age. The words, handwritten, seemed to stand out on the page, especially my name, written over and over on the pages. My mother was obviously the author of the journal. 'Calvin and I' was a common phrase in there.

However, there were a few pages scattered throughout the journal that were written in small neat handwriting that was different from my mother's loopy cursive. These pages had intricate notes and sketches, and when I looked closer, the title on one of these random pages read 'Notes from Mr. Frederick Saint'. I looked twice to make sure I was reading the name right. I knew the first time I met Mr. Dougal that he had said he'd known my parents, but I didn't know he knew them this well. Just as I was starting to delve into the journal, as if I hadn't started already, a pale hand waved in front of me. I jumped back out of surprise and looked up to see Crimson's familiar face.

"Morning sunshine," he said.

"God, Crimson, for about the fifth time this week, you've almost given me a heart attack."

The smirk on his delighted face turned into a smile. "I've been waiting for five minutes, just watching you, and you haven't looked up once. Figured I'd snap you out of it before we're late for class."

"Stalker creep," I muttered, and he plucked the journal out of my hands.

Crimson's facial expression changed when he started reading the first pages. "Why is the first sentence 'Is there nothing greater than the love you have for people?'"

I smiled to myself. "Because it's true. And it's a good way to start out a journal to your own daughter."

"Well come on," Crimson handed the book back and gestured to his truck, "andale, andale!"

Now that I had at least a few days of hardcore Sun Weilder training, I was starting to see things in a different way. For instance, when we pulled into our school's parking lot, I was mentally estimating the distance between the roof of the school and the pavement. I was also wondering if I could roast marshmallows with the fire from my hands, but that was probably because I hadn't eaten breakfast.

Getting out of Crimson's truck and walking up to the school building never made much of a scene. That day, though, the universe wasn't up for normal.

We were walking past our school's historical landmark (which, if you ask me, only means that a place is that much more haunted) when I felt a cold sensation touch my fingertips. I jumped back a little bit, seeing that Crimson was on my right side but my left hand had been touched. I swung my head in Crimson's direction to look at him, but he was looking past me, a puzzled expression on his face.

"Hope you don't mind if I join you, Emry," a familiar-but-not-really voice said to my left. I froze.

"Connor?" I asked, looking toward my left. Sure enough, Connor Freida was standing to my left. Connor Freida, a popular boy, who shouldn't have been talking to someone like me, stood in front of me. Connor Freida, with blond hair, blue eyes, dressed in jeans and a long-sleeved shirt.

"Well, yeah, that's my name. But I've been called worse, mind you."

I shook my head and looked down at his fingers next to mine. "Shouldn't you be with your, I don't know, posse of girls?"

He smiled down at me. Curse his freaking perfect smile. "Where's the fun in that? I wanted to try something different for a change. Is it alright if I hang with you for today?"

I looked over at Crimson, hoping for him to bail me out in this difficult situation, but he had disappeared. So much for best friends.

Okay, honestly, maybe it was that Crimson wasn't there at that moment, or maybe it was that this guy I'd liked (ONCE) was actually acknowledging my presence, or maybe it was just that I wanted to try something different.