The Winchester Code

Chapter 24 - Save the Date

Save the Date

Chapter 24 

Jace grabbed my hand, stopping me from walking away.
"Wait," He says softly, a small tear forming in his eye. "Don't leave."
"I have to!" I tell him.
"No, you don't!"
"You're with someone else!" I say. "You're in love!"
"In love with you!"
I step back, shocked. "I thought you were with –"
"I was." He says, reaching up to cup my cheek in his hand. "We broke up. I want to be with you."
"This is all too much." I tell him. I break away from his grip. "I'm sorry."
"No!" He calls after me. I turn to see him standing there. He chokes out a small sob. "No."
"Very good you two!" Mr Collins claps, leading the rest of the class to join in. He scribbles something down in his notepad. "Since you two were the last group to audition, let's all pack up the props and then it should be end of the lesson."
I grab the bowl of fruit next to me and look around for anything else I used. The ten or so people in the classroom all shuffle around and pick up random objects, trying to extend the time and hopefully get a clue as to who is going to get what role in the school play.
"Heads up, Zai!" Jace calls. I look at him just in time to see a piece of plastic fruit hit my shoulder.
"Ow!" I laugh, bending down to pick it up and ditch it back at him.
He laughs and picks it up, walking over to me and dropping it in the fruit bowl. "You did great, Zai!"
"Thanks, so did you!" I answer. "You'll get the lead for sure!"
"Ha, we'll see. Thanks for auditioning with me."
"You're welcome." I put the bowl in prop storage cupboard.
"So if you can act, why don't you?"
I shrug my shoulders. I would love too, but I can't. I can't wear costumes with the multitude of scars littering my body. "It's just not for me. I'll do costumes or something."
"But-" The bell rings and I shut the cupboard. I smile at him as we head back to grab our backpacks.
"I'll have roles and scripts for everyone by Monday. You all did a great job."
"Thanks Mr Collins." I say as I head out the door, starting a string of goodbye's as everyone left the classroom.
"What's your next lesson?" Jace asks.
"I have a free." I say. "Heading to the library if you want to come."
"Nah, I've got history."
"Ok," I say as I turn a corner. "Have fun."
"You too."
I dawdle a little as I head to the library. I fiddle with the knife in my pocket as I walk. Each afternoon, when Dean picks me up from school, he takes me home, I drop my backpack in the study and leads me outside to practice fighting. He shows me dodging, defence, how to keep myself from getting slashed to pieces from knives, and claws, and god knows what else. He charges at me with his knife, and he was right in saying that it makes me react quicker, knowing that there is real danger, but god damn it hurts when I get nicked. He has amazing control over his body so I've never been seriously hurt. Even if I was, he'd probably just cut the lesson short and pray to Cas to start our healing session early.
I shake my head as I enter the library. Scars, scratches, and colourful plasters line my hands and arms. When people ask, I tell them the truth. I'm training to hunt demons and using real knives in training. People laugh.
I walk to the back of the library and sit at a computer desk. I slip my backpack under the desk and pull out a notebook. I flick it open to a section on vampires and boot up the computer. Between homework, training, Cas, and Kevin, I sit with Sam in library and we study together. He had shown me a journal full of notes and papers, saying it was his dads. He then said that it would be a good idea for me to start one. I agreed. I ask him questions as I flick through the journal and scribble notes in my own notebook. He answers, or lets me find the answer myself. He goes over my notes and scribbles things in, or corrects things for me.
I scan the paper. My handwriting is small and scrappy, not quite neat enough to be neat. It's a contrast to his, large and particular, like every letter has a purpose on the page, every word is important. The page is full of notes and statistics, dates, names, and locations. There are doodles in the margins of swirls and squiggles and tiny shapes. Sam scolds me when he catches me doodling. He tells me it looks unprofessional. I remind him that I am unprofessional. Sometimes I sneak a glance at his page. He also doodles.
I open up the computers browser and log online. I search for the local newspaper. I know that Sam would have already scanned it today, but I'll jot down if I see something that may be interesting. He'll either confirm or deny it when I get back to the bunker.