Prime (Book 1 of the Godling Trilogy)

1- Dental Hygiene Gets Dangerous

Every story has a beginning, a middle and an end. Every story has a hero and a villain, a narrator. I thought I knew my place in this story but I learned that who I am is a matter of perspective. At one point I believed myself a hero and found myself a villain. But that comes later, and if you bare with me you'll find that perhaps you play a role in your story unlike what you expected. Just as every story has a beginning, this is mine.

To be honest, I didn't think that I'd have my life changing experience begin at the dentist office. No rational person would think that. So often books and movies start out where the main character is at a nightclub, or a party, or the streets of New York, but not me. I was thrown into a world of chaos and chivalry when I had my cheek numb and saliva dripping down my chin, not exactly Lara Croft level of sexy heroine.

Now usually in the stories where people learn that the world isn't what it seems, things begin slowly. Then later it turns out more species live on earth than we thought, and not just the amoeba or bit of bacteria type of life, but like humanesque beings that always just so happen to be way more powerful and beautiful than us. For me, things didn't start out nice and peaceful. I can't exactly give you this awesome exposition where I talk about all the strange things that built up in my life alluding to this huge discovery but really I'm pretty oblivious so if that stuff happened, I don't remember it.

Here's all the exposition I can give you: that fateful January morning I did normal day things. Got up, groaned, tolerated my classes, groaned, went to soccer practice and got kicked really hard in the shin, groaned in pain, then went to the dentist. The 'groan' there is implied.

My dentist isn't great, granted that there really aren't any great dentists in existence, this isn't saying much. Nor was my dentist absolutely abhorrent. It certainly wasn't one of those places with a TV in every room, awesome scented lotion and those weird hand wax dips. Someone told me there are actually dentists out there like that but I'm still not entirely sure I believe it: sounds like the Promised Land.

Anyways, as I walked through the front door of the office into the lobby, I was met with the smell of latex gloves, machinery and ground down teeth. I glanced back at my mother who waved goodbye at me from the car, giving me smile that said 'It won't be that bad,' which was a total lie, then she drove off. I sighed and slumped into one of the 70's patterned waiting chairs and pulled out an old People magazine. I honestly never read these, I just wanted to look like I was doing something.

The desk lady looked at me expectantly and asked, "Lea Reclin?"

I didn't recognize this woman, which was strange since there had been the same attendant for the past four years that I'd been going here, but this woman was older and uglier.

"Yup," I responded, almost wanting to lie and delay my appointment a little longer for no apparent reason.

I scanned the room, shuttered windows, a creepy drawing of a cartoon dentist helping patients in ways that are definitely not up to code, and badly painted white walls. The walls were scuffed in a way that it wasn't so terrible looking that it really needed to be fixed but still brought down the class of the entire establishment.

'Why white?' I thought to myself. Why would they choose the most clinical, foreboding, and easily ruined color to paint their walls? That would be like me writing 'Welcome' in blood on a wall during a house party, a perfect way to set the 'oh God no' mood.

After a few minutes of flipping through the magazine playing Hot or Not, which for me was really Eh or Meh, my name was called. The hygienist poked her head through the door and grinned at me with horse teeth. This one was new too, or at least I didn't recognize her. They must have redone the staff or something, maybe they underwent new management. This girl was blonde and perfect looking, not to mention way too happy for some who spends time digging around in people's mouths all day. Maybe it was a weird fetish or something, because it certainly wasn't rational. She led me to one the back rooms, her blonde hair swishing behind her. One of my old friends had told me once that like 40% of Starbucks drinking stereotypical 'white girls' aspire to be hygienists. I don't get the allure, but then again I don't get the fascination with iPhones either so I've come to the conclusion that people are confusing and I just have to deal with it.