* * *
“Here you go,” said Ethan.
I was startled.
One—he wasn’t sitting next to me, he’d moved closer by a few inches. Two—he was handing me a book. He smiled wryly and placed it in my view. Glancing around the room, I was confused. It was history, just after first break according to the clock above the door and it was Monday. I’d been consumed in my fog and for the better part of the weekend unaffected by anything other than normal. Well a wolf that didn’t kill me wasn’t normal.
“This here, is a passage on the 1692 trials.” He tapped the page and I realised what he was talking about.
Shaking my head, I shifted from my zone of comfort. I wasn’t actually looking up the Salem witch trials. I’d already read the endless facts on it with Melody.
“Oh, I see you’re working on a different section.” Ethan glanced to my notes. “That’s okay; I did some notes on the magic of witch’s too.”
Good for you. I wanted to say.
He frowned. I peered around my hair; I shivered as his lips parted with that secret smile showing. Supple always came to mind, followed by soft, velvet—stop it. I dropped my gaze.
Ethan held the wry smile and tapped the passage.
“It’s a good read. You might find something interesting in it.”
With another push of the book towards me, I realised he wasn’t going to let it go. I was best to take it from him that way he can leave me alone. As my fingers touched the leather binding, I was shocked it wasn’t a school book. It was far too old.
Where did you get this book? I asked, nodding to the book.
Ethan was good at reading my unspoken words.
“My father, Caleb likes to collect old books.”
Caleb is your father?
I was shocked. I had no idea and as I thought it over, I realised it made perfect sense. He was adopted. Ethan Coffer was no relation to Caleb Smithery … less they adopted him. Wonder why he didn’t take on Caleb’s last name. Ethan Smithery … not the same ring as Ethan Coffer. I remembered the doctor’s office on Friday; he did have a large collection of books in the room.
Ethan nodded.
“He likes his history and likes it when I can debate the past on opposite levels.” He watched me; hidden as I was. It felt like he could see all of me, no curtain of hair in the way.
I hadn’t shifted in my position, frightened, unsure—okay—completely unsure why he was talking to me—like a normal person would. Others would yell at me as though I couldn’t hear, others speak as though I was a five year old and needed small syllables to understand them. But not Ethan. He was speaking to me normally.
“I prefer to know the basics of history, not debate it,” he said as if I asked more on the subject. “My brother and sister like to make history happen,” he added. I chewed my bottom lip in thought. Brother and sister? That’s interesting. Wonder where they were. “So did you want to read it over?” he asked with a raised brow at the book.
I nodded and pulled the thick binding into my hands. The passage he’d indicated were filled with ink drawings of the witches and burnings at the stakes in the 1600’s, since that was a time of dark magic. Staring at the page, I summarised in my head that the entire conversation was one sided. He didn’t hear me and assumed what I said by my movements and my facial expressions. I peeked at Ethan as he gracefully slipped his hand around another book. His eyes didn’t veer towards me and while I watched him for several seconds, I puzzled if he had read my thoughts. It’s nothing but a coincidence. I focused on the book instead. I smile as I read a passage on Dracula in the 1800’s, how he could mesmerise a woman with his good looks and drink her blood while she slept. Course in the following pages it was all black magic and fairy sightings that summed up most if not all the strange goings on in the 1600’s. A smaller passage did catch my attention.
Fairy’s were hunted to extinction by witches due to the love of voices and the unlimited power of energy inside of them.
Strange, is what came to mind. Why it triggered interesting to me was odd. My voice wasn’t stolen by a witch—right? It wasn’t returning as Caleb said. I didn’t care about my voice. But that day three months ago. I’d give anything to have that returned to me. Maybe I was like Aerial, wishing to see my friend—losing my voice and everything else back fired.
I read along the page of witch’s and supernatural beings, scribbling notes. I wasn’t one to understand all the ins and outs of legends, knowing it, reading it, and understanding it were very different.
“How did you go?” Ethan’s voice startled me—making me peer at him timidly. “With the passage?” He glanced to the book.
Good. Wasn’t like I could answer him. I pushed the book towards him.
“You can keep it, and read more if you like.”
I frowned as I closed the cover. Taking in the book title; Paranormal of the Supernatural. I realised this book didn’t just speak of the Salem witches but of all paranormal and supernatural creatures. That’s a strange book to have.
“Did you want to ask me something?” He leaned closer as if I could whisper it.
“Mute Kera ain’t gonna talk,” piped in Brant four tables to my left. “Didn’t you hear, she’s gone and lost her voice, and now she’s mute.”
“And she’s doing just fine without you insulting her,” said Ethan, a warning tone edged his voice.
The lights in the room started to flicker. Damn. Why do they always do that? The distraction made Brant turn away. Ethan eyed the flickering lights, as too did others. His eyes turned to me, and I felt worse than when he’d started to talk. Before, no one noticed, but now they did.
“It’s okay. Don’t worry about them.”
Tugh. Like you would understand. I frowned and stared at my notes, the flickering lights eased up enough.
I couldn’t be angry with him. He was actually sticking up for me. It was stupid to think he did want me to ask him something. What could I say to him if I did speak? What was it like living in the city? Where are your sister and brother? That was a stupid question. What is your favourite book? A small twitch of my lips knew I’d found a question I wanted to ask him. But I couldn’t speak. I could write it down? That wasn’t a good idea. It had nothing to do with this assignment. Nothing that isn’t at all required. He’s not actually talking to me for the freedom of it. It was just for this assignment. I grumbled to myself for thinking Ethan was interested in me as a person. No one ever spoke to me since the accident, and if they did, I couldn’t answer them; giving me a funny look as though I were ignorant. But I couldn’t talk. Ethan showed interest when he spoke to me, as if he could read my thoughts and understand what I was saying without saying it. Maybe he found my expression amusing. His gaze was still on me, a twitch of his lips lingered and it reminded me of the wolf. Secretive.
I’d become accustomed to peoples facial expressions in the past three months and I was able to detect the lies and the misleading words they didn’t want said. The reactions of their smirk or raised brow said more than the words that they spoke. Ethan shuffled his papers.
Will you be working on the assignment by yourself now? I scribbled it down when he answered—he must be able to read over my shoulder and through my hair.
“No. You’re my partner for it.” His teasing smile played my thoughts.
So why have you written ten pages of notes for something we’re supposed to work on together?
He’d barely glanced at the note. “You can read them if you like.” He slipped them onto my desk where I stared blankly at his elegant writing. It was neat, for a teenager. Well scripted and possibly trained on; maybe he went to handwriting classes along with history debates with Caleb. I redirected my thoughts with a nod; I gathered my notes with the book. I placed it as gently as I could into my bag, I didn’t want to crease them, and I didn’t know what else to do, since it was end of class and time for Art.
I love art; it was the one place I could escape. I drew endless sketche
s for another painting exercise. I was secretly proud of my art, but ashamed in showing my drawings to anyone. Melody loved them. She’d constantly steal the images I’d want to throw away and at times she’d framed them or add her drawing style to it. I smirked at my imagined idea of her staring at the drawing I’d created today. I’d been idly sketching and as I took in what I’d drawn, I realised it was the wolf. The secret to my death I hoped. I detailed a fair amount of its face, and I was annoyed I hadn’t taken in more detail of its colour. Gray wasn’t its colour; it held a bluish tinge to its flanks and tan-white along its muzzle, paws and tale tip. And its ears held dark trimmings, a rustic brown layered around its neck and back. Maybe this afternoon before it kills me, I can take in what colour its eyes were. I loved staring into its eyes, and its eyes showed something I couldn’t place; though after Friday I figured it was still debating if it should kill me.
“That’s a wonderful drawing Kera,” said Miss. Patterson.
I cringed from the gasped looks as everyone at my table turned to eye my drawing including Ethan.
“Very realistic,” she added. “Where, and how did you draw such a creature with no reference material?”
I shrugged. Wasn’t like I could say. Hey, he was in the woods and I thought him cute.
A snicker beside me had me wondering why Ethan was laughing. I glanced to his drawing of a boat—a ship with large sails and elegant design. It wasn’t funny, or maybe the man overboard was.
“And you too Ethan,” mused Miss. Patterson. “You and Kera have the touch of fine artists. I should place you in the art show competition next month.”
“I thank you Miss. Patterson, that would be nice,” he said kindly.
I glared at him in annoyance.
No, it’s not nice. It’s not fair. You shouldn’t have said yes for me. I shook my head. I’m not doing it.
“The first prize is five hundred dollars,” she said, hoping this would change my mind.
I didn’t care about money; I didn’t care about art shows either.
“It’d be nice to show off your work again,” she added.
I cringed from her words, her assumption I wanted to be visible to anyone annoyed me. Worse, it was something Melody would have done. She’d signed me up in the past and even made sure I draw something perfect. But I couldn’t do that, it wasn’t right. I shook my head with more determination. Miss. Patterson dipped her head, noting a tired sigh leave her lips at the disappointment I wouldn’t enter. I wasn’t going to let it get to me.
Ethan leant closer. “You should draw what makes you happy,” he whispered.
I cringed from him, wanting to be in a dark room, away from anyone staring at me. I wanted the floor to swallow me up since my fog wasn’t in reach. The flickering lights were here. I’d given up on why they were, just that they’d been doing it.
Ethan was making me do something I didn’t want. His eyes held with hope and I hated he was inches from me.
“Okay, if you don’t want to enter it, then I won’t.” He was being stubborn.
What! I stared through my curtain of hair, taking in his serious face. You’d give up your art work in the competition because I won’t do it. That’s stupid. I wanted to scream—yell was closer to what my thoughts were.
His jaw clenched and a frown showed as his eyes stared into mine.
“It’d be fun,” he added a small note of a plea lingered. “If you like, we could make a drawing together, make it a duel artwork.” He reached across and placed his hand over mine.
The touch sent sparks through me. Warm, thrilling sparks of—focus. Damn it. Focus. The lights buzzed at a higher rate, making many students gasp and make spooky noises.
Swindled into this art competition wasn’t something I needed and deep in my thoughts, I could hear Melody laughing with amusement.
“You’re the best illustrator Kerr. You will win, and Ethan and his good looks will have to suffer. Maybe you should draw him.” I smirked at her imaginary comment.
I shrugged. Fine. I grumbled. But you’re not winning the next argument. I pouted in annoyance and reluctantly pulled my hand away from his.
“So you’ll do it?” questioned Miss. Patterson several steps away.
I glanced to Ethan, his eyes widened and slowly I nodded.
“That is excellent news. It will be interesting to see what you two draw.”
“That wolf sure looks like a winner,” said Ethan smoothly, sitting taller. “Where did you get the idea?” His question held on the edge of curiosity.
I parted my lips, unsure if I could mouth the words coherently when a groan from across the table stopped me.
“Why are you bothering?” said Amanda, she eyed Ethan with a look of annoyance.
“With what?”
“Talking to her. She can’t answer you.”
I narrowed my eyes and lowered my gaze to the drawing, not feeling artistic anymore.
“Perhaps not in voice,” said Ethan. “But why aren’t you trying to talk to her?” He asked staring at her with deliberate coldness.
“Because she’s Mute Kera,” blurted out Tiffany from the end of the table. “She can’t talk and she can’t sing—”
“She’s mute, she’s cute, and she’s full of puke …” Echoed a chorus of voices.
The lights flickered to a blinding speed of dazzling flashes igniting my anger.
Shut up! I hissed. Shut up and leave me alone.
I grabbed my book and stormed from the room, hearing the teacher defend me, trying to call me back, didn’t make a difference. It was worse when I glanced over my shoulder. Ethan was ready to stand up and … what—Say something? Make a comment? Join in? I shook my head.
It’s not worth it and besides, you’ll join them soon anyway. So please stay away from me, I hissed, thinking I should scribble the note to hand to him later.
I was better off not worrying about him. If Melody was here, she’d have told them to fall into cow dung. I hated not fitting in here, where everyone made fun of me. I didn’t bother with them, but why would they constantly bother me.
“Kera!” His voice echoed along the hall. I didn’t stop moving. I’d left art class early and I was on my way to the lunch room. “Wait.” He’d caught up to me.
What now, I hissed.
“I wanted to apologise to you.”
You’re not the one teasing me. I grumbled and jotted the note down; he scanned it for with twice the puzzled expression.
“Stay away from you. Kera?” He tilted his head and eyes locked with mine. “That’s hard to do when I’m sitting next to you.”
Well, find another seat. I turned to walk away, he caught my arm; instant warmth and coolness rushed through me, and rippled in his touch.
“Kera, please. I know, I don’t know you, but I don’t believe them at all.”
I give you two weeks tops. I hissed, shaking my head, and pulling away.
“Please Kera. I want to know you.”
Why. You can’t. I don’t speak. I narrowed my eyes, tapping my throat and opening my mouth to make it clear to him, I couldn’t.
A small smirk played across his lips. “You’re interesting and different from the others,” he said smoothly, continuing his conversation. “You’re smart, and an excellent drawer.”
Yeah right, I’m boring, quiet, invisible, and according to the school. I’m full of puke. I folded my arms with this comment.
“Not to me.”
Huh. I was lost with his words. Did he just answer my thoughts? No. Just another of my facial expressions.
“You’re quiet, I get that; so am I.”
Yeah right. You soaked yourself in front of the whole school on Friday.
He smiled, waiting for a response I couldn’t give him. I dropped my gaze to the floor just as the bell rang and students piled into the hall heading towards the lunchroom.
“Well, well, well. Look who’s having a conversation,” sang a sly voice from the sides.
“Shut your mou
th Warwick,” hissed Ethan. “Or do you want me to shut it for you.”
“Oh, This is ten times interesting, watching you two have a lovers spat.”
I blushed and dropped my gaze to the floor, wishing it would swallow me up.
“Oh, did I hit a nerve there Mute Kera.”
Whack!
Ethan had hit the locker door hard. I jumped, and Brant cowered by a few steps.
“You dare call her that again.” Ethan clenched his teeth; a rage was there I hadn’t expected—a protective rage.
“Well, aren’t you all defensive.” Brant was ready lunge.
The rest of the B-Team beside him looked unsure, ready, and willing as always. The lights started to flicker, darkening and brightening simultaneously, casting shadows around the gathered students. It didn’t stop the B-Team from sizing Ethan up—all three of them.
“And I’ll give you cheek if you don’t leave her alone.” Ethan took a step towards him, shielding me, and glancing to those around us.
Taking in his shoulders from this angle, it was sweet in a deranged way. Protective was there—but seriously. I shivered with his actions. Part of me was screaming it was wrong; another part was shocked he would protect me and stand-up for me. But the real problem was there wasn’t any need for it. Being insulted by the B-Team on a regular base didn’t require a protector. The group of gawking students had me shiver with the spotlight attention.
“One clean hit, it’s all I need.” Brant lunged.
My heart pounded and for the split second of time, everything stopped.
I mean everything.
Those fractions of seconds slipped by as if they were minutes and I was witnessing it happen slowly. How I came to this thought was later, the truth was—Brant hit Ethan—hard on the jaw.
What followed was his gagging scream of pain, and Ethan, who simply rolled with the hit, tilted his head to the side, and bit his bottom lip—on purpose! And not just any normal looking tooth—a fang. Blood seeped from the wound, not a lot, but enough to say it was a connection of the punch that hadn’t affected him in the slightest. And Brant dropped to his knees in pain, clutching his arm and glaring shock at Ethan.
Time shifted, speeding up to normal. It was over in a blink—or as though it hadn’t happened at all. The lights no longer flickered, everyone was in silent shock, whispering and some even clapped, but it was the shout of Mr.. Tilmore that had everyone scatter.
“You two. With me, NOW!” His eyes narrowed at Ethan and Brant.
I was invisible to what was happening, including to the crowd. I’d seen Ethan bite his lip. His face was a cross between gloating and intrigue, not fear, not worry, which was what I felt. He dabbed at the wound with confirmation it was bleeding. He’s eyes locked with mine.
You didn’t have to do that and you shouldn’t have even bothered. I clenched my fist in anger and turned from the scene.
“Kera. Wait!” he yelled.
But I didn’t hang around. I wouldn’t bother with him now.