Fire's Last Descendant

Chapter 1

          Special thanks to kimbasgirl for the awesome-sauce cover!!!

             ••• Chapter 1 •••

       My pencil skims the edge of the paper to outline the clouds. The sun peeks out from behind one cloud, and sun rays shine through gaps in the fluff. A young woman sits in a field of wheat with her straw hat falling down her back. The wind blows at such a lovely degree so that the wheat and the young woman's hair blow at the same angle.

      "Miss Johnson!" My biology teacher's voice calls out sharply. A sharp rap on my desk follows his voice and I flinch. I slowly slide my paper — the one I was supposed to be taking notes on — under my binder and look up at him. My eyes show fear behind my thick-rimmed glasses. "Pay attention," he orders.

       I nod quickly. A blush begins to blossom in the apples of my cheeks. Three finger from my left hand comb some hair and cause it to fall in front of the sides of my face, making it a sort of curtain for me. "If you were listening to me, tell me what three things are that algae is exploited as."

       I rack my brain. I am usually good at science and biology, but it isn't something I master at. Algae, algae, algae, why can't I remember anything about the stupid Protist? Thirty pairs of eyes bore into me; I can feel them. I bite my lip and remove a strand of hair from my face and clear my throat. "Um... algae can be exploited as toothpaste, foodstuffs, and food additives."

       I know I got the answer right. I also know that Mr. Jiles absolutely despises me. I know this, because although my answer was correct, and he knows it too, he gives me his signature "tsk, tsk, tsk". 

       "Tsk, tsk tsk. Miss Gabrielle Johnson, it would do you good to pay attention," he says and stalks off. Kelsey Jones, my only friend (something a high school girl isn't proud to admit), looks over at me with a confused look on her face. She knows I got the answer right too.

       Jiles stands back at the front of the room and moves behind his podium. His sharp hawk-like eyes scan the room, looking for his next victim. "Anyone else?"

       As soon as the last word leaves his lips, I feel a hand shoot up into the air next to me, knocking hard on my glasses. I straighten them and roll my eyes. Mallory Fox is too many mean words to say, but only one thing is noticeable about the relationship between her and I. We can't stand each other.

       Kelsey says that it is actually possible that every time we see each other, we despise each other a little bit more. I don't really think that is possible, but considering the way she's treated me ever since junior high, she might be right. I mean, just yesterday, she purposely knocked my own lunch tray into my nicest blouse. That may sound pitiful, but I've been keeping count, and that is the twenty-third time she's done it.

       Jiles points at Mallory and leans forward with his hands folded on his podium. She puts her hand down and smirks at me. Then she looks at my teacher and gives him the exact same answer. "Toothpaste, food stuffs, and food additives."

       Another thing about Mallory: she's a teacher's pet. Something else I can't stand about her. Jiles gives her the look of approval — something that I assure you he's never given me — and smiles. "Yes, yes, correct. Gabrielle, start taking notes, your grade is plummeting."

       My mouth falls agape and I begin to protest, but Jiles has already turned his back to me and my classmates. While his red marker writes down something about algae, Mallory silently slips a lined sheet of paper covered in bullet points and letters to me, her eyes not leaving our teacher. I crane my neck to see what she slips me, then Jiles turns around. Mallory watches him, then her hand knocks against my glasses again and she calls out, "Mr. Jiles, she's copying my notes!"

       At first I don't understand why she would accuse me of that. Then I realize what I am doing. I am leaning over to look at a lined sheet of paper that has Mallory Fox's notes on it, and I have a pencil and my own blank sheet of paper on my side of the desk. I do look pretty guilty.

      When I lift my head, there is probably a similar look that a five-year old would have if they were caught stealing cookies from the cookie jar. Jiles is crossing his arms. His eyes say what his lips do not have to. Detention.

       I can't have another detention. It's only been my third week at O' Sullivan High and I've gotten four detentions. Three of them were handed to me on a silver platter by Mallory, the other one received by slamming my locker too loudly (Honestly, I do not know what he problem is with this school!). All four detentions, my mom decided, were punishable by no TV, no internet, no cell phone, and no iPad. She'd told me that if I got another one, I would suffer an entire week wearing the same gray sweat shirt, pants, nurse shoes, and a beige T-shirt.

       I cringe at his gaze, then the bell came to my rescue. I walk quickly out of the classroom ('Cause if I run, I'll get another detention) and to my locker. My locker isn't in the luckiest spot either. Because my locker is the one that separates Mallory's locker from her clique. 

       I pull my locker door open only to have it slammed back in my face. I turn to my right and see Mallory's heavily make-up'ed face glaring at me.

       "What do you want, ya' glorified Barbie doll?" One little voice inside of my head congratulates me on doing by best to insult her. The other little voice probably just did an epic face palm and says something along the lines of, "What was that?! Why'd you do it?! Stupid!"

       Mallory sneers at me, the bridge of her nose crinkling. The two girls behind her do the same, but they look pretty ridiculous because of the bandages on their noses for their nose jobs. "Were you actually cheating off of me? There's no way you could suddenly get that smart."

       "I assure you I did not cheat off of your notes, not that I could read your scrawly handwriting, and that I am ten times smarter than you are ever gonna get." The little voice that was disapproving my first insult is now praising me for the good insult I just threw.

       The Barbie dolls all simultaneously gasped and looked at each other. I turn around, my back now to them, and pull my locker back open. I place my biology textbook in the locker next to my math stuff. Then the locker door slams shut again. I bite my lip, roll my eyes, and turn to the clique, all sort of at the same time.

       "You think you're better than me?"

       My eyes widen. These words started fights, between both genders. "N-n-no, I didn't say that!"

       My words mean nothing. Before I know it, there is a sharp pain in my left cheek. There's probably a red handprint identical to Mallory's on the cheek, too. My hand reaches up and gingerly touches my cheek. It stings. Out of instinct, I slap her back, harder than she did to me.

       Before we can both break out in a mess of punching, pulling, and screaming, I feel hands wrap around the upper parts of my arms to hold me back. Someone pulls Mallory Fox away from me, the girl still fighting.

       The hands let go of me and switch to the front of me, so my back is pressed against the cold, dark blue lockers. I stop fighting, relax, and look at the person holding me back. I look into Kelsey's soft, forest green irises. She turns from me to give an apologetic smile to the girls. 

       "Well, this has been fun, leaving our handprints in each others' faces, but I'm afraid we must leave now. Goodbye, chicas, see ya'll next week!"

       She pushes me away from the group. I look over her shoulder to see Mallory giving me a look that says, "I'll get you."

       For some reason, unlike any other day, I don't think that her silent threat is too terrible. I have the worst feeling in my gut that something actually worse than a school bully is coming for me.