In Vendetta House (The Vendetta Series #1)

Chapter 18

Chapter 18

The strange whiny bell goes off right as Sasha and I set foot into the first classroom. Math. I can't believe I actually have to learn more Math in demon school. Sasha scurries to her seat and I am stuck lurking at the front, clueless as to where I should sit. I wipe at my lips for breakfast crumbs, since we'd ran up from cafeteria in a rush and hurried here realizing we were late.

A rather old woman with curly gray hair sits at the front desk, scribbling away on sheets of paper.

I clear my throat.

She raises her head and beams upon seeing me. Her long old-lady skirt swishes as she walks over.

"Oh, you must be Ariel!" she coos, placing her hands on my shoulders. "It's been so long since we had a new student. I'm Mrs. Hurmchester. Why don't you take a seat?"

Mrs. Hurmchester points to an empty desk all the way at the back. The desk is situated right in the corner, with a supply closet on the left and on the right... is Courtney.

"Mrs. Hurmchester?" I say sweetly, trying to worm myself out of this. "It'll be so much nicer if I could sit next to Sasha," I plead. "She's my roommate and has been sooo helpful, I don't know what I'd do without her!"

I may have been laying it on just a little too thick.

"Nonsense!" she declares. "You'll make other friends."

Sitting next to Courtney? Not likely. I give a strained smile and shuffle reluctantly over to the back. Sasha makes a sympathetic face as I pass her and slide into my seat.

Mrs Hurmchester hands me an exercise book and a pen.

"Why do I need this?" I ask stupidly.

"That's all you'll need for the lessons. Take notes; there will be tests and it's no exception if you're new." She returns back to the front.

Great, so I actually have to work.

A few seats in front of me sits Eric, in a red shirt that contrasts horribly with his purple-blond hair. He turns around and gives a happy wave. I wave back.

Somebody snorts. "I see you're making friends with losers," Courtney jeers.

I don't respond, but she's not done. "I guess it would make sense," she sighs. "Miscreations stick together, right?"

I turn sharply towards her, and fix her my best glare, "You know what? Why don't you cut it out and stop acting like you're the best thing to walk the earth since Jesus. Cause let's face it, you're not."

Courtney prepares to huff out a comeback but Mrs Hurmchester starts her lesson.

"Today class, we'll be learning about the quadratic formula. Always remember to FOIL..."

I tune her out, resting my head on my palm and picking up my pen, clicking it. There are around twenty people in this class. I'm guessing there's only one other class going on for the rest of the students.

In the second row, I spot a girl with orange and green streaks on dark hair. Ruby's head droops low, her back and arms hunched forward doodling on her book. She appears to be listening just as much as I am.

Two hours pass in slow and agonizing delay. When the bell goes again, everybody jumps out of their seats, eager to get onto their next class. Hopefully mine is more entertaining than Math.

I skip over to Sasha, who's finishing a sketch in the back cover of her book.

"Nice," I say, admiring the dragon alpaca hybrid... thing. "What is it?"

"Her personal creation," Eric interjects from behind me. I turn to look at him as he points to a horn on her sketch. "Unicorn monsters are the new in."

Sasha slaps at his hand. "Oh, don't you start. Unicorns are cool."

"Yeah, and turtles are fast."

I notice they take their books with them as we leave. I'm pretty sure this place doesn't have lockers.

"What do we do with this?" I ask, flapping the pages of my exercise book around.

"Hold onto it," Sasha replies. "You leave it in the classroom of the last class, and you always end up having that class first the next morning."

On the way out, Courtney rams her shoulder into mine. I hiss and she simpers, faking apologies. I glare daggers into her back and she saunters off.

"How many more classes do we have to go through?" I grumble to Sasha and Eric as they show me to the class list.

"Two more," Eric replies. "But it's actually lunch now."

"Already?"

"Classes are two hours each," Sasha says. "The morning one is from 9 to 11. Then it's an hour long lunch break, which I actually missed out on yesterday watching over your passed out body."

I wouldn't have been in a comatose state if it weren't for 'House tradition.'

"The next class is from 12 to 2, then with no break in between, we go straight into the last class from 2 to 4."

"Are you kidding me?" I groan. "That's so long!"

Eric shrugs. "Life is boring stuck in a prison. Classes keep us entertained. Things have only been exciting since you got here, especially since now Sasha has a new friend to play with-"

"Hey!" Sasha butts in.

"-but it'll die down," Eric finishes.

"Thanks," I mutter.

The list is plastered on a notice board adjacent to Aunt Nelly's office. The other names are typed up neatly in lists. ARIEL SONG is added to the lists in pen, handwritten in loopy and big letters.

I quickly slap the entire length of my forearm over the SONGs, but Sasha and Eric have already noticed.

"Your last name is Song?" Sasha laughs. "Oh, the irony!"

"It's not funny," I whine, removing my arm.

My eyes scan the page. SASHA O'CONELLE is only in my first class. ERIC STONE is printed in all her classes as well.

"You guys have such normal last names," I mumble. "And I'm not in any of your classes."

I don't know a single person in my second class. But in my third class, I see printed clearly COURTNEY FITZHERALD and JESSE VERDAK.

"Great," I mumble. Courtney is in my third class as well. At least Jesse's there. He's my friend. I think.

"What kind of a name is Verdak?" I ask Eric, curious.

"I don't know, Russian? Ukraine-in?"

"People from Ukraine aren't called Ukraine-in," Sasha says.

"What are they called then?" Eric retorts.

She shrugs. "How should I know?"

I drag them both to the cafeteria.

***

The second class was the most boring thing I ever sat through: Science with a teacher named Mr. Looner who was half-blind. I had already learned everything he was rambling on about. When he noticed I was tapping the desk and staring into space, he decided to pick on me, thinking the new girl was slow. The old man asked rapid-fire questions about cell division. I answered them without a stutter.

Now I am too early to the third class: English. At least this is the last one for the day. I groan inwardly at the thought of repeating this for who knows how long. I had to get out of here.

I take a seat at the desks by the edge next to the windows, and try ignore the gossiping going on by the back desks. A piece of hair flies into my face from the breeze, and I pull my ponytail out then tighten it.

"Why does she have such strangely colored lips?"

I freeze. A couple of girls behind me who I hadn't even met are talking about me. I could hear every word of their conversation yet they don't seem to notice.

"How did she stay under the radar for so long? Two years?"

"No, no, no. Apparently her powers only came in recently, she would have been in the same group that came here with us if she had developed correctly."

I jerk my chair back and spin towards them, furious.

"I can hear you," I snap, "and if I were you, I wouldn't be talking about people developing correctly."

With a start, I realize the girls I had just yelled at are all the way at the back of the room, and by the way they had their hands covering their mouths, they were whispering. They gape at me, jaws slack.

I smile sweetly. "Better close those mouths unless you want flies flying in."

Taking a deep breath, I slowly face the front again. Isn't this just a peachy first day of social interaction.

After a few moments, someone sets their book onto the desk beside mine and plops into their seat.

"Hey princess," he greets. "What's got your gears grinding?"

I don't know about my gears, but my teeth are sure grinding against each other from being clenched tightly in anger. My left hand is also throbbing painfully.

I feel a finger prod my arm. "Hey, are you okay?"

My anger disperses into confusion, and I bring the back of my hand up, rubbing it.

"Yeah, I'm fine." I tell Jesse. "I think I hit my hand on the desk after yelling at those girls."

He turns back and glances at the girls who were now sitting in silence, passing notes. Jesse raises an amused eyebrow. "I'm impressed. You scared them into not talking."

I let out an annoyed breath. "They were the ones saying I developed incorrectly," I sneer, "I guess they didn't think I would overhear them."

Jesse frowns slightly. "You can hear them from here?"

I shrug. "Sure, we all have super hearing, no?"

"Well, yeah but-"

"Sorry I'm late, children!" A young woman walks in, wearing an overload of red lipstick. A string of pearls sit neatly over her mauve sweater. "Just had to grab some lunch!"

She settles all her stuff on her desk and spots me. I lower myself a little into my chair, cradelling my throbbing hand, already expecting what's coming next.

"Oh!" she exclaims, "I didn't know the new student was in my class! I forgot to check!"

Way to make me feel appreciated.

"I'm Miss. Deviathan. Why don't you introduce yourself?"

Oh great, now they were expecting some speech. I sink lower into my chair.

"Er... I'm Ariel," I say simply, silently begging she'll get on with the lesson. No such luck.

"Where were you from, Ariel?" she asks nicely. I notice she said were, and not are. That cranked up my suspicion meter up a little.

"America," I say. I don't elaborate.

"You don't look American," a voice pipes up from across the room. I don't have to look to know who it was.

Funny, she doesn't look like someone who has a mental problem but look where we are.

On the outside, I stay silent. My jaw clenches until my teeth ache.

Miss. Deviathan scowls. "I won't tolerate racism in the classroom, Courtney."

Courtney rolls her eyes response and tosses her hair back.

"Let's get back on track with our essay writing," the teacher announces. Miss. Deviathan turns and writes a word on the whiteboard.

Allegiance.

"I want all of you, to write a three page on allegiance. Tell me what it means. What it means to you. Are there any other traits that it goes hand to hand with, such as loyalty? You've got this period, finish, or else it's homework."

With that, everybody starts to scribble frantically to avoid homework. I tap my pen against the desk, thinking for words to write. My hand still throbs. The skin has heated up a little and I rub it, trying to ease it. I sigh, and leave my hand alone, putting the pen by the paper and try to think of something.

'Allegiance is committing your loyalty, devotion and obedience to a person, group or organization,' I write.

'Allegiance is faithfulness and trust,' I decide to add.

I drop the pen on the desk, staring at my paper and suppressing another groan. I was in AP subjects in my normal high school. I had a 4.3 GPA and now all of it was just going to waste while I sit here writing an essay a below-average freshman would write.

How long is this going to go on for?



The room suddenly breaks out into gasps. Perplexed, I look up to see everybody staring outside. Some kids sitting on the other side of the room even rush towards the window to gape at something.

Oh, don't tell me, there is a flock of birds outside. Anything is excitement here.

Then, I see Courtney's face by the window. All the blood has drained out and her mouth is opening and closing like she is at a loss. I don't think Courtney is easily horrified. Something serious is outside. I get up and inch my way to the window. By the squeaking of the chair, Jesse does too.

I push my way to front of the crowd. I would have been able to see from my chair but there were too many butts in the way. Nudging a few arms, I finally see what everyone else sees.

I feel the air sucked out of my lungs like a vacuum.

The sight of actual people running from the forest and approaching the House should have made me leap for joy. I repeat, actual people. But I don't think these people are here to rescue us. Aunt Nelly had said they couldn't track us here. Yet here they were, scaling the giant fence dressed in black and white fighting gear with guns and swords strapped to their backs and waists. They're all young and warrior-like, in their older teens or early twenties, all with a black ring or similarly shaped marking around their wrists and ankles. They all move with incredible speed and agility. It is obvious who they are. It is obvious why they are here.

The one-word whisper flies around the room, spoken hushed as if fearing the power it holds.

"Nephilum."