Chapter 37

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After lunch, we hurry into History.
The projector's set up and it's paused on a movie about slavery.
"Ok class," Thatcher booms. "Take out your notebooks and take notes on the documentary."
As he starts the video he says," I might be calling some of you up to talk about your grades."
I open my notebook and zone out. Occasionally jotting down some notes (that Gianna wrote down).
After about 15 minutes,Thatcher calls, "Aria."
I push my chair out and walk up to his desk.
"Yes?"
"In case you're worried, this isn't about your grades. Actually, I was wondering if you heard anything about the meeting. I know Riel gave you the dirt on it."
His voice is low, so the others can't hear.
"What do you mean?"
"You know what the main, ah, topic was, right?"
"The traitor?"
"Bingo. What do you think about it?"
"Well..... It's strange. And I was thinking that, well, maybe you guys could search for soul fragments on everyone's scythe. Zane said that would be an easier way to find the rouge. And if you guys couldn't, you could hold an investigation."
"Zane? As in Zane Roster?"
"Yeah. The soul fragment thing was his idea."
"Smart boy. I'll see if I can bounce the idea around. Thank you- and Zane-for the suggestions."
"No prob."
I walk back to my seat, thinking over the meeting.
Soul fragments.
I shudder at the thought of them.
They're the ghosts that still linger around. Like undead proof of a reaper's messy job. And they're tainted with one of the strongest emotions the soul ever experiences.
Sorrow.
They're like screaming banshees that never leave, never stop haunting you.
They never stop screaming; it's like they're dying all over again. Like a morbid song on replay.
They say rouges can't resist leaving behind some fragments. Just for fun.
I shudder again. Gianna gives me a look.
"Are you cold?"
"Yeah, kinda," I lie.
She turns back toward the screen and writes down some more notes.
I peek over her shoulder and write them down and then jot some of my own.
I sigh and focus back on the screen.

As we sit down during science, Mrs. Bernini comes in, holding a bulky- looking object covered by a white sheet
She sets it on a table and smiles at us.
"Well class, thanks to me, we shall have a very interesting class today. I pulled a few strings, as I am a very important person you know, and was able to bring in this guy."
She pulls the sheet off the object, revealing a metal cage with a tiny owl inside of it.
"AWWWWWW," erupts from all sides of the classroom.
Mrs. Bernini steps forward and hands out a packet.
"Now, all of you may go up front and see him. When you get back to your seat, take notes in your packet. Afterward, I will permit some of you to come up and pet him. His name is Hollow, by the way."
When she stops talking, we all rush forward, crowding around the cage.
I peer into the cage, seeing Hollow. He has rust brown feathers, speckled with white. His bright gold eyes stare at us from behind the cage door.
"Wow," I murmur.
"I know," Gianna says.
"I gotta draw this guy."
I rush back to my desk and rummage through my stuff, pulling out a small, portable sketchbook. I flip open to a clean page and quickly sketch out Hollow.
I'll finish this in my other sketchbook later.
After we're all done goggling at Hollow, we go to sit down.
We write about his features, what those features tell us, etc.
Mrs. Bernini calls up groups of us at a time and let's us hold and pet him.
When it's our turn, Gianna and I squeal and hurry up.
I cup Hollow in my hands and pet his soft, downy feathers.
"How'd you get him?" I turn to Mrs. Bernini.
"The Aviary downtown. They were more than willing to lend Hollow. A handsome one, isn't he?"
"Oh, yes."
Gianna holds him next, murmuring under her breath.
"Aren't you just the cutest thing? I could just eat you up. But don't worry I won't."
I raise my eyebrows.
"Hey, don't judge. He is the cutest thing."
"Whatever happened to Cace?"
"Oh, shut up."
We go back to our seats and finish up our work.
We pack up our stuff and the bell rings overhead.
We hurry to Art. I'm think about Hollow. Then a creeping, cold thought squirms through my brain cells.
Soul fragments.

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