Winter Fire

Ch. 6 [The First Plan]

Winter Fire
Ch. 6
The First Plan

Four classes had already slipped by. Four classes and I couldn't even remember which subjects they were. I didn't know what we did, but I couldn't force myself to care. I felt numb, distracted, hopeless. I didn't know what to do. And even if I did, I wouldn't know how to do it.

I moved like a zombie, drifting aimlessly from one task to another. But no one noticed. No one ever notices people like me.

By lunch my mind was so full of static that I walked on muscle memory. I entered the cafeteria and found myself in the lunch line before I'd even realized I'd left the classroom. I stepped back, rubbed a hand over my eyes and turned away from the line, my stomach lurching at just the thought of food.

I stared for a long time at rest of the cafeteria, voices buzzing all around me. I felt as if I were only an onlooker, a ghost, invisible, unreal, able to see, but never be a part of. Then I turned sharply on my heels and left the cafeteria, with no intention to return for the remainder of the school day.

But I never made it back to my dorm either.

When I passed the boy's restrooms, a hand shot out and grabbed my elbow, jerking me inside. I gasped and stumbled, nearly falling over my own feet. I glanced up in surprise once I regained my balance, jerking my arm back to my side and clenching my jaw at sight of the boy standing before me. His black locks fell into his aquarmine eyes as he scanned over my body as if searching for something. He looked very, very perturbed, urgency written across his stiff shoulders.

I crossed my arms and scowled at him. "What is it now?" I snapped.

He started, glancing up to my sharp gaze as if he hadn't expected me to speak. Then he blinked slowly and replied.

"Bad day?"

I scoffed. "You wouldn't know the half of it. Wait, yeah--yeah you would."

I turned and stepped back towards the hall, but he grabbed my arm again and pulled me back out of sight.

"Archer," I sighed, "I'm really not in the mood."

He peered out into the hall before pulling us deeper into the bathroom. I raised an eyebrow.

"Look," He hissed, shifting his agitated gaze back to mine. "That boy that attacked you Friday was actually part of a very dangerous group."

"A gang?"

He shook his head shortly. "No, no, not like that. It's-it's . . . well . . . it's complicated. But he's dangerous, very, very dangerous, not someone you should ever want to mess with."

I tugged at the hems of my shirt. "So? He's probably dead. And if he isn't, well, he was really drunk. He wouldn't remember."

Archer ran a hand through his hair. "That's just the thing." He hesitated, struggling to find a good way to say what he needed to say. "He . . . he isn't dead. And he remembers. Everything."

My stomach dropped and my skin crawled, but I bunched the ends of my shirt in my fists and bit the insides of my cheeks, struggling to maintain my outer apathetic appearance.

"So?" My voice cracked.

His eyes softened as he looked at me and he let out a heavy breath.

"So . . . he wants revenge." He rubbed a hand over his face. "He's coming after me, Winter. And then he's coming after you."

My heart skipped a beat.

"W-what?" My voice shook, my blood running ice-cold. I swallowed dryly, and clutched my shirt so tightly it nearly ripped, but nothing helped. Fear rose up inside me, a terrible, terrible fear that wouldn't ever give me rest.