Garthia: The Forgotten King

Chapter Two

Congrats on making it this far! Trust me, I know it's a bit slow and you have no idea how this could ever get better, but I promise, it does. I think-and I'm not just saying this because I'm writing it-that it has a great story with lots of twists and cliffhangers and dynamic characters. So please, if you can bring yourself to do it, stick with it. I'd really love to hear what you think!

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~Chapter Two

7:21 P.M.

We've been dancing for over fifteen minutes. It wasn't really dancing on my part. Mostly just swaying to the beat and avoiding the judgemental eyes of the students. I can't dance.

Believe it or not, swaying can make you thirsty. I tell Eve that I'm going to get some punch, and I start pushing my way through the crowd towards to punch table.

There's a chaperone standing next to the table, ladle in hand. It's a man that looks about in his early thirties. His hair is black with streaks of grey, making his hazel eyes stand out, and he has a small prickly beard like you would get if you haven't shaved it for a few weeks. He's clad in a frayed flannel shirt and worn out jeans. Simply put, he looks like a homeless lumberjack.

He smiles a surprisingly white-toothed grin. Looks like he's not homeless after all. Homeless peoples's teeth aren't that white. "Hello little lady," he greets with a southern drawl. I can tell he's faking it though. I have lived in the south for eight years. Even though I don't have a strong southern accent myself, I know one when I hear it. He must not be from around here, but for some reason he's trying really hard to fit in. "What can I get for ya?"

"I'll have some fruit punch, please."

"Sure thing." As he pours, I rock back and forth on my heels awkwardly and scan the crowd to find Eve. She's in the middle of a group of boys, laughing and swaying. I can't help but feel a bit jealous. She can't dance either, but she makes it work. "Here you go, miss." I turn back to the man who is holding a small paper cup out to me.

"Thank you." I reach for it, but he holds it just out of my reach.

"The name's Aiden, by the way." he says with a crooked grin.

Even though I'm surprised that he's being so forward, I automatically blurt, "Mine's Hayden."

His grin widens. "I know." He places the cup in my hand, wrapping my fingers around it, then goes back to serving punch. I stand there for a moment, shocked that a man that I've never met before knows who I am. Then I remember that a lot of people in this city know who I am because of my achievements, and I snap out of my daze. But I can't shake the sense of foreboding.

Still feeling a little uneasy I sit down at one of the tables lined up on the perimeter of the room and take a sip of my punch. The bitterness hits me like a literal punch. It chokes me like hands wrapped around my neck, so I struggle to spit it out. I grab my throat and try to swallow the remaining punch. Gasping, I throw the cup into the trash can beside me.

"Hayden!" Eve rushes over with a worried look on her face.

"Are you OK? I saw you choking."

"Yeah. I'm fine." I croak, feeling like my throat is closing up.

"What happened?" She sits on the chair next to me.

"Nothing. Just that darn punch." I look at the punch table, but the man who said his name is Aiden is no longer there.

"Really? Do I need to tell someone?" Her eyes dart around the room, searching for a chaperone.

"No. I'm alright now." I'm still looking for him, but he's no where to be seen.