The Archives Book 2: Blood Diary

chapter 01: The Substitute

The Substitute

     It was like any other morning. I had been with Ivy all throughout self-study period, helping her with our history assignment on the life and conquests of Don Juan Meluna, from whom the capital city is named after. The weather was pleasant and everything back to normal again. Classes had resumed. And the teachers have decided to go around in buddies. This is due to the recent attack on the teachers.

   There were three victims that were accounted for and the police have yet a clue as to who the perpetrator could have been. Medical reports also said that the victims suffered from a dangerous amount of blood loss due to hack-like wounds near the neck, around the subclavicular line and on the upper body torso. It has been a period of two weeks and the school was slowly moving forward again. That’s how life is.

“So Rubes, glad to see you’re not playing detective anymore.” Ivy said, closing the folder of her report file and making all the intention of starting a very long conversation with me.

    I shrugged. There wasn’t anything left to investigate about. We were able to roast Salasarn into a crispy vulture – not that anyone would ever know about it.

“I got bored…y’know me…” I kept my eyes averted, lest she make it into one of those talk marathons.

    Don’t get me wrong, I like my friend a lot. She’s the only one who talks to me and doesn’t completely ignore the fact that I like being this way and get on lectures about the positive energies that surround the mystical universe… ‘Nuff said.

“Yeah I know…no more time for anything else ‘coz it would mean lesser time for your hobbies…Seriously Rubes, sometimes you give me the creeps.”

“I can say the same way about you.” Snort. Whoever wears pink and mint green is definitely a force to reckon with.

“Well anyway, your mom’s been texting me about getting you involved in afterschool activities. You wanna join the Drama Club?”

     Come again?

“Drama what?”

“Drama club. It’ll be fun Rubes. I’m there, Emily and Dan and the guys from the senior department will be there. Besides, we could use a bit of grim and gloom, y’know…for the upcoming Renaissance themed plays.” She beamed.

“Heck no. You didn’t just … No way. I’d rather die –“ Pause

“Ruby? Hello…?” Ivy waved a hand infront of my eyes. “Are you ok?”

    I nodded tersely. These days, I had been getting a series of nightmares and frequent flashbacks about my supposed past lives and about being born a thousand years ago as Emeraldie and then being reborn a hundred years ago as Amber. And now I’m finding it even harder to concentrate on just being me - Ruby Silvestre, the timid and odd looking girl who does nothing to please the eyes and ears of anyone.

“I don’t want you to die a third, cursed death…” I shook my head; Yuuzel’s words had been coming back to my consciousness more often also.

“Well you better snap out of it. The substitute’s coming.” Ivy shook the side of my table as she stood up with the rest of the class to greet him.

     He was another story to tell - reminds me of Zorro, for some reason. He didn’t wear a frilly white top and skin-tight leather pants but there was something in the voice that sounded very familiar. Weird.

     The substitute, looked at us, and decided to scribble the name he should be called on the board.

“You may sit class.” And the noise and screech of wooden table sets resounded in the entire room. “My name is Amadeos, Sir Enrique Amadeos and I will be your history teacher until Mrs. de Vera recovers from her erm-condition.”

    Sir Amadeos was a sprite fellow. Not too tall, not too lean, and probably has a Latino ancestry. He had his hair in an Elvis Presley up-do, but not too high or too bulky –thank goodness for that. And his dark-colored polo was unbuttoned from the first two up and the last three down. He held only a box full of chalk and an eraser when he came, not at all the usual encyclopediac-professor you’d expect in a history class.

“Well then kids are there any questions?” he asked, dusting the bits of chalk from his palms.

    A class full of hands came up as soon as that question mark was punctuated. He inhaled, seemingly not expecting the sudden gust of interest. And then he began shuffling through the file folder left on top of the teacher’s desk. That was of course the seating plan where all the names of the students are written on their proper places. He dabbed onto the folder and began to mumble names as his finger scrolled down the list of names.

“OK, let’s see…I’ll only choose three representatives from this class to ask whatever questions you might wanna throw at me and at the same time, set what are the usual expectations you guys have from me. Let’s see…” he continued running a finger on the folder. “Hmm…Ms Ross, Ivy?”

   Ivy beamed and went to the front row where several other students began whispering their expectations-meaning whatever gossip they’d wanna find out about the new teach.

“Ms. Silvester, Ruby…”

“It’s Silvestre. Sir.” I rolled my eyes. It’s not like it’s the most complicated name ever to be found in the history of family names.

“Oh sorry, sorry. My mistake…Ms Silvestre” he smiled “Please come infront with Ms Ross”

   I walked up to where Ivy was, busily giggling with the chummy cheese gang and the sweetie cake patrol. None of them were close to sharing an inquiry though. Tough luck. I crossed my arms in time to hear the last chosen one.

“And Mr. Guillermo Fernandez…err- which one is your last name here, kid?” The class burst into fits of giggles as Gilli timidly went up front.

“It’s Fernandez sir but everyone just calls me Gilli.” He scratched at the back of his head.

“Alright. Let’s hear it.” Sir Amadeos patted his thighs and sat on top of the teacher’s table.

    I could tell you in painful detail the events that had transpired… But as you might have noticed, I’m not one to spur on things that don’t interest me. And while the Elvis Presley devotee had spurred a fiesta of interest among our class (the girls, especially) I didn’t find things the slightest bit of any interest to me.

   Why? Well, the questions didn’t have anything to do with History, per se, or the class’s expectations on him as a teacher. Or more like Yuuzel wasn’t there and I was pissed that he wasn’t allowing me to enter The Archives any more than usual. What’s his malfunction anyway? I hunched back down on my seat and gently brushed the edges of the Black Journal with my fingers.

   All of a sudden there was this strange feeling the crept into my shoulders. It was a searing, sinking feeling that made my head jerk up. I was being stared at – by the substitute.