The Moon's Descendant

Zelena.

I lifted my head slightly as the cool breeze brushed against my neck. My long raven hair waved gently with the breeze. It was a glorious morning, the air was still fresh and there isn’t a cloud in the sky. The sun felt warm on my face as it struggled to shine through the trees. There is something about being outside alone that I have always loved. Most people around here are afraid of the forest and they don’t go near it, me on the other hand, I love the forest. The sound of the wind in the trees, the feel of fresh air on my skin and the faint smell of salt water. It makes me feel, I don’t know, free, I guess. I relish the time I get to spend outdoors, however short it is.

I live in a little fishing town in the far north of Cape Breton Island, Nova Scotia, population of around two thousand people. The towns inhabitants are spread roughly twenty kilometres along the coast, there's the sea on one side, and thick forest on the other. We’re a little isolated but that’s how the locals like it. People in this town have lived here for generations, they never leave, and the ones that are lucky enough to get out, they don’t come back. The little town has all the basic necessities and people can usually find what they need in one of the few small stores. For what they can’t get, then they make the trip to one of the bigger cities, if you can call them that. Not that I have ever been, I have never left the island.

This short walk through the trees each day on my way to school, was my only solace in my otherwise hell of an existence. I would take short steps, slow steps, as if to make each passing second in the open air last longer. There are only a few weeks left of my last year of school and although every second of the last twelve years has been hell on earth, I shudder to think what will happen when it’s all over.

As I got to the black cast iron gates of the school, my small sense of freedom withered away. I looked at the dark brick walls and small windows and sighed, it was a prison. I pulled my hood up over my face, put my head down and made my way to the entrance. I pushed the heavy door open and puffed out a breath of relief, at least the hall was still empty. Majority of the other students were still in the car park, standing around and chatting with their friends until the bell rings. But not me, I prefer to go straight to my locker, shove my bag inside and wait at the door of my first class. If I get there before the halls fill up, I can usually avoid most of the morning abuse. Watching the kids marching through the hallways, I often let my mind wonder a little, what it could be like to have friends to stand around and chat with. It would probably be nice to have at least one friend in this shithole.

I lingered at my locker this morning, recounting the events of last night's beating. I closed my eyes and listened to my body. The parts of my shirt that stuck to the raw lashes on my back stung with each slight movement. The broken skin felt hot and tight under my clothes. The gash on my forehead was still throbbing, causing a headache to spread from my hairline and down to behind my ear. I did my best to cover it with makeup, but the foundation burned when I tried to rub it in to the open wound. So, I stuck a band-aid over it instead. The band-aid was plain skin colour anyway so it should blend in with my face OK. My dark, messy hair could sit across most of my face and my hoodie would cover the rest.

I suddenly became aware of the increased noise in the hallway behind me. The other kids had started coming in. Damn-it. I quickly closed my locker, bowed my head and started down the hallway to my first class. I quickly turned the corner and smashed face first into something hard. I fell backwards into the middle of the hallway, dropping my books as I tried to catch myself. The hall fell silent as I laid on my aching back, sprawled out on the floor. I clenched my eyes together, the pain spewing from my wounds was almost enough to make me gag.

“What a loser” I heard Demi snicker as she burst out laughing, the rest of the people in the hallway quickly joined in. I scurried onto my hands and knees, trying to gather my belongings in order to make my escape.

I reached for my notebook, but it wasn’t on the ground anymore. As I looked around for it, I froze. He was crouched down in front of me, his knees showing through his dark ripped jeans. I felt like I could feel the warmth radiating off him. He was not two feet away from me. I could smell him, his sweet sweat smelt like the air on a hot summer day. I breathed him in. Who is this?

“Sorry, is this yours?” he asked as he held out his arm with my book in his hand. His voice was soothing and velvety, smooth with a low rumble to it.

I snatched my book from his grip and began to stand up. I felt his big hands grab my shoulders and pull me upwards. The shock of his touch sent me falling back to the ground. I closed my eyes tight, turned my head into my arm and waited for him to hit me. The laughter in the hallway erupted again.

“Whoa” the mystery boy gasped as I cowered from him.

“She’s such a fucking freak” Demi cackled.

The pain I expected never came, he didn’t hit me, no one did. I peered out from under my hoodie as a tear rolled down my cheek. He had taken a step back, holding out his arms to pull with him the other kids that had gathered around to laugh at me.

I sat there for a moment on the cold floor taking in this boy. I had never seen him at school before. His dark brown boots were unlaced and very worn in, his ripped jeans hugged his hips. He had on a faded grey t-shirt with a red W printed on it. It hung loosely over his belt but clung to his muscular chest. He was tall. Very tall. He stood high above all of the other students behind him. I examined his arms that were still outstretched beside him. His sleeves hugging his bulging biceps. I looked at his face, his jaw was smooth and strong, his pink lips pursed together. His dark sandy blonde hair sat perfectly atop his head, short on the sides and long on the top. His bright blue eyes were staring at me with a frightening intensity. He was mesmerising, something of an ancient Greek God. Butterflies burst into my stomach and danced around. I began to feel hot and nervous as I looked at this beautiful being. Wow. He tilted his head slightly to the side and examined me. Shit! He could tell I was looking at him. I jumped up from the ground and ran, ducking my way through the crowd of laughing teens.

I got to my English class and hurried to my seat at the back corner of the room. I put my books on the desk and then curled myself into my seat. Wiping the tears from my cheek I whispered to myself ‘I hate this place’. I rested my head on my folded arms and replayed the event in the hallway. I’ve never been interested in boyfriends or dating, but something about this new boy had my stomach doing backflips.

“Class” the teacher called out as she stepped into the room,

“These are two of our new students, Cole and Peter”.

I lifted my head, just enough to see the new kids, and I reared back slightly. Holy heck, they were gods too. The first one, the taller one, had dark brown hair, smooth cream skin and slim toned muscles. His dark eyes were staring in my direction from across the class. The second one was a little shorter with dark red hair, tanned skin and glowing green eyes, eyes that were also staring in my direction. I lowered my head again and huffed. Why on earth would these gorgeous specimens be looking at me? I’m just a dirty and broken rag doll.

“Boys take a seat please” the teacher cooed.

The two boys made their way to the back of the class. I could feel the shift in the atmosphere of the room, and I had no doubt that each set of female eyes followed them as they walked. The tall one sat at the desk next to me, the other sat in front of me. The boy in front turned to face me, his head angled down trying to see my face from under my hoodie. Probably just wanting to get a look at the hideous beast that caused all that drama in the hall this morning.

“Hey, I’m Cole” whispered the boy beside me. His voice had a somewhat calming but sceptical tone. He pointed to the desk in front of me,

“That’s Peter, but everyone calls him Smith” the boy, Cole, said. The boy sitting there gave a crooked grin and wiggled his fingers at me. At first glance, he at least looks nice, but they usually all start out that way.

I awkwardly nodded at them and lowered my head again, keeping my eyes on them the best I could. I don’t like this, I don’t trust this show of friendliness. They both looked at each other and shrugged, turning their bodies to the front of the class. I could feel my panic building, what did they want? Why were they talking to me? It’s just a joke, it has to be. They are going to be like every other asshole in this place and bully me, just like everyone else does. There is no reason for them to be nice to me, so it must be a trick.