??A Howl In The Night??
?(She’s mine)?
?Authoress Gift?
?Chapter 5?
~Why Does This Blue-Haired Idiot attra-ct So Many Girls??~
We walk to a rectangular, wooden door with an almost broken handle. A booming voice is faintly audible from the opposite side.
“You re-ady?” I question, reaching with tender f!ngerstowards the knob. He nods confidently, the exact opposite of my timid form. I wonder, for a minute, how he manages to find all this as-surance, knowing that everything is going to be okay. There is no doubt in his features as he waits for the door to swing open. Charm and charisma radiates from him as he prepares to meet the faces of his new clas-smates.
“Of course,” he says, his voice smooth and silky, words flowing like bu-tter from his desirablel-ips. I take a de-ep breath, my eyes narrowing slightly, and I pu-ll back on the knob, ex-posing us both to the sea of sharks.
I shake as I examine their cold, judging eyes, hating the attention I am getting. They scour me once, absorbing me, then immediately turn their gaze to the gorgeous, enticing man behind me. Every student’s eyes grow wi-de as they survey his splendor, his sparkling green eyes and beautiful azure hair.
“Hello sir,” Xavier addresses the teacher, bowing slightly. His voice is just as alluring as his face, ma-king some girls sigh with awe and boys seethe with envy. “I am Xavier, a transfer student. Mona has been showing me around,” he gestures to me. Shouts erupt across the clas-sroom.
“You’re cute!”
“How did you get that blue hair?”
“I LOVE YOUR EYES!!”
“Where did you get that accent, man? You’ve gotta teach it to me.”
“Why are you letting a loser like Mona show you around?”
The last comment is to be expected, in fact, I thought that there would be more. Xavier seems to be annoyed, his eyes lighting up, his mouth opening to defend me. “Don’t,” I whisper, tou-ching his hand slightly, “it isn’t worth it.” Reluctantly he st©ps, though the fire in his eyes remain.
As I scan the room, I can spy almost every girl in the clas-sroom drooling over him. Their spellbound gazes try to snag Xavier’s glance, hoping that he will pick her out of the crowd. One girl in p@rticular, Sidney, is ma-king doe eyes at him. Ian, her b©yfri£ndof two years, just watches Xavier with curiosity.
Sidney Richa-rd s is the queen bee of our moderately large school. With a head of platinum blonde hair that crawls down to her w@!stline and an incredibly large mouth that spouts out insult and h0t gossip constantly, she is the person that leads us all. Only sparing a second glance for the super popular jocks and her “girls”, she is an a-list celebrity, only able to admire from afar. She is certainly pretty enough, with a heart-shaped face and hvge blue eyes, coupled with a stellar figure and a height of about 5’6″. She is an angel around the teachers, yet a vixen around the boys, charming an average of around two a week. However, she always manages to keep her b©yfri£nd, Ian. I honestly have no idea why he puts up with her.
The teacher clears his throat loudly, trying to quell the screams and lvst-filled yells. There are a couple of snorts, but eventually the chatter dies down.
“Xavier, take a seat by Mona since she is your guide for today,” he orders, and we both head towards the back. Xavier leans his head towards mine, his face bent in concern. “Are you okay? You’re scowling,” he whispers, his eyes boring into mine.
“I’m fine,” I murmur softly, still disconcerted by the way the whole clas-s is staring at us.
He shakes his head, “No you aren’t. I can tell.” We reach our seats, in the back of the clas-sroom, and sit down quietly. I look at him, my gaze betraying the emotions un-derneath.
“Don’t worry.” I try to shake it off. “I can handle it.”
His eyes crinkle in protest. “Mona, you don’t have to.”
“I know,” I state, my words a sigh. Carefully I draw my Social Studies binder out of my backpack, giving it to him. “Here is what we have been learning so far.”
I can feel Sidney’s curious gaze as she twists in her seat. From her perch about three chairs away, she once again drinks in Xavier’s enticing appearance, her expression of hunger. She casts a sultry glance his way.
Xavier sees her, taking in her inviting smile, and turns away immediately. Even Ian reels back in surprise as he looks at me and whispers, “that girl… is she one of those special-nee-ds kids? She hasn’t st©pped staring at me since I got in here.”
I bur-st out in laughter, my smile illuminating the darkened room. Every student’s eyes turn towards me, but I ba-rely notice, consumed by enjoyment at his words. The teacher pauses, his eyebrow c0cked as he surveys my joyous form. “Anything you would like to tell all of us, Mona?” he asks dangerously.
“No sir,” I sputter, the laughter dying quic-kly. The students soon turn away except for two persons, one glaring at me in fury, the other with an unfamiliar expression I cannot distinguish. “She isn’t special nee-ds,” I whisper in Xavier’s ear, my face still contorted with laughter. He nods, absolutely serious.
Connecting gazes with Sidney, he casts her a smile. “Pay attention,” he mouths, pointing to the board. I giggle softly as she pu-lls her electrifying gaze from me to absorb Xavier’s words, then turns with a defeated huff towards the front. Ian, on the other hand, just watches me blankly, staring at me until I start to blus-h. I hurriedly look at my notebook, doodling cartoon faces and random scribbles.
During the entire period, girls keep throwing glances towards Xavier, and he seems completely comfortable with the attention. He stares straight ahead, devoting his attention to the teacher, absorbing everything the man says. Out of the corner of my eye, I take in his profile. Long lashes frame emerald eyes, leading into a straight nose and light redl-ips that are twisted into a light sm-irk as I sneak glances at him. He turns his head, ignoring the girl’s lovesick simpers, and sm-irks even bolder at me. “Like what you see?” he asks slyly, smiling sweetly at my scowl. My blus-h reoccurs, spre-ading across my face like wildfire.
“No, actually,” I scoff, though the red decorating my features betray the truth. He laughs quietly, amused by my disconcertment. Girls shoot me hateful glares, including Sidney, who had turned around to catch Xavier’s attention once more. Obviously no one likes how close I am to this handsome man.
If only they knew how much of a psycho he is.
When the bell finally rings, and we finally file out of the clas-sroom, a throng of amazed people, most from other clas-ses, surrounds him. I roll my eyes as he is immediately buried by his new fan club, girls and boys alike. Xavier catches my glance before he is swallowed by his admirers, mouthing, “I’ll be back soon. Wait for me!”
I hide my smile until he is completely submerged, then it f0rç£s itself to the surface, shown for the whole world to see.
***
I am exhausted, physically and mentally, by lunch time.
Xavier has been dogged by so many people that even he is tired now, huffing beside me like a car that has just run out of g@s. “This,” he says, running a hair throu-gh his perfect, blue hair, “is why I haven’t gone to school for the last thirty-two years.”
??????????????
??A Howl In The Night??
?(She’s mine)?
?Authoress Gift ?
?Chapter 6?
I blink, wondering if I had heard him right. “Thirty-two years?” I squeak, my voice ba-rely above a whisper. Even now, as we casually walk down the hallway, people are staring at him, gossiping about the new s£nior that is sizzling h0t.
“Yeah. I was born fifty-five years ago, March 4, 1955, to be exact, and you are not eligible to go to school until you are five. So, that makes about thirty-two years since I last went. I only completed high school, and didn’t go to college,” he says plainly. My eyes wi-den with surprise as I absorb his words.
“So you are fifty-five years old,” I say dubiously. Somehow, that is ha-rd to believe. He looks like a normal eighteen year old… an incredibly h0t one, I must admit.
“Not really,” he says softly, looking at the floor as he emits these next words, “a werewolf has no beginning and no end. We are born out of death, and death we shall remain.”
I cross my arms, trying to disguise the fact that I am confused. It is ha-rd for me to un-derstand, the meaning behind his statement. “What do you mean… no beginning and no end?” I question, my voice filled with curiosity.
“I’ll tell you later,” he shrugs, “it will take a little while to explain, and we don’t have the time.” His carelessness signifies that it is not a hvge deal, so I relax a little. Then I stiffen once more as I realize that I am warming up to him. It is like I am constantly waging a war against an undeniable attra-ction, and the deathly feeling is taking the lead.
However, I will not let it win. I will not fall in love with Xavier.
“Fine,” I say as we finally reach the double doors. He steps in front of me, swinging the door open. He shoots me a beautiful smile, holding it so I can enter the lunchroom. I marvel at how much of a gentleman he is, at how respectful and old-fashioned he behaves.
Oh yeah. He was born fifty-five years ago.
The lunchroom houses tables for four, two, and eight. They are scattered within the room, with a buffet on the kitchen side. On the opposite end, there is a stage. A rather lacklvster room overall, matching the insipid rest of the school.
We walk to the long line, surrounded by girls as they swarm around the blue-haired idiot. Cries and calls erupt, all directed towards Xavier. I, expressionless, gr-ab a napkin and tray, placing it on the buffet so I can get my daily helping of tasteless mush. Xavier follows my actions, wincing in disgust as he surveys the selection of what the school likes to call “food”.
“This is another reason why I haven’t gone to school,” he mutters as he stacks the slushy mess onto his tray. I look at the tray, avoiding his gaze.
“I deal with it every day,” I sigh as I bring the tray to the cashier. Robotically, I punch in my pin number and pay for the food. Every month, the orphanage gives me twenty dollars for my cafeteria account. Lunch, however, is one dollar, leaving me to go without lunch for a couple of days.
Xavier pu-lls out a tender green bill, handing it to the old and withered cashier. She takes it, her eyelashes fluttering as she shoots Xavier a flir-ty smile, and examines the thin piece of paper. Suddenly, her eyes wi-den and she waves the bill at him. “A hundred dollar bill?” she asks, surprised.
He waves her off, “keep the change.”
Her eyes are nearly bulging out of her skull. “But lunch is a dollar…” she says, incredulous.
“Oh really?” he asks as he looks at the horror splurging on his tray, “I thought it would be less. This looks absolutely disgusting.” Laughs explode around the lunchroom, all attention focused on the beautiful man. The funny thing about it is, Xavier is totally serious when he is talking to the cashier. He means the upmost respect.
Even I can’t prevent a laugh from bubbling forth.
“Take it,” he says to her, rather disappointingly, “use the money to improve your food so the students will actually eat it.” With a last, disdaining glance, he walks to my side. Cheers ensue, the whole student b©dy agreeing with his words. “Come on, Mona,” he demands, authority oozing from him. He leads the way to a table for two in the corner of the lunchroom, oblivious to the awed glances sticking to him like glue.
He pu-lls out the rusty chair, it squeaking as it complied with his will. I stand, waiting for him to sit down, I awkwardly lingered by his side. He gestures towards the chair, realization coming upon me as I find out that he actually wants me to sit down. blu-shingly I obey his command, flattered that a boy would actually do that for me.
Xavier huffs to the other chair. Glancing at me, he asks quietly, “why is everyone looking at us?”
“Because you just voiced their opinion,” I whisper back.
“I’m surprised no one else has,” he snorts as he surveys the food before him, “this is gross.”
I take my spoon, di-pping it into the food, raising it to myl-ips. With a f0rç£d swallow, I gag down the bit of food, sighing with relief as it graces my dre-adfully empty stomach. No matter how disgusting the food is, I nee-d to choke it down.
Xavier watches me as I eat, a grimace decorating his face. “Why are you eating that?” he asks, pure disgust in his features. I shrug, though the truth is that this is almost all I get to eat every day. If I tell Xavier that, he will have a fist.
He tilts his head slightly as he surveys me, watching me scarf down the catastrophe. “You have to eat it, don’t you?” he guesses correctly as I savor every piece, each bit ma-king the horrible feeling in my stomach lighten.
I nod my head, taking a swig of my milk with tender f!ngers. After another silence, I finally finish my lunch, feeling like a pig for gobbling it down so fast. “Can… I have your milk, Xavier?” I question, looking pointedly at his unopened carton.
“Sure. Why not?” he replies, drawing humor from the fact that I actually want his food. The corner of his mouth turns up as he shoves his whole tray towards me, my eyes lighting up as I realize that I just might have enough to eat today. I start in on this new bit of food, focusing on the warmth it will give in my stomach, not the nas-ty taste it offers.
I feel despicable. I even had to ask the wolfboy for food.
“Thank you,” I tilt my head slightly, knowing that I seem like a starving animal. The pu-ll for food, however, is more powerful than any other f0rç£, and that is the one driving me right now.
“Does that… orphanage not give you any food?” he probes, a little angrily. I just stare at him, unwilling to tell him the answer. A furious light is in his eyes, anger in his tone. “Mona,” he says firmly, “don’t eat that.” He gr-abs both trays, standing up and putting them in the disposal. As he troops back over to me, dozens of hungry eyes follow him, annoying me immensely for some strange reason.
I can feel tons of stares on my own back as well. Many whispers erupt around me, probably along the lines of “the loser shouldn’t be sitting by that h0t guy,” or “let’s bet to see how long it will be before he ditches her.” Subconsciously, I slump a little, hoping their gazes will eventually leave me. But they linger, stirring up my discomfort and their jeers.
Xavier pas-ses me and disappears throu-gh the doors, leaving me stranded on our island for two. I suddenly realize that I now feel terribly lonely, more than I could have anticipated. Is this how I usually feel when I’m eating in the lunchroom alone? Two days ago, before all this stuff happened, feels almost like a distant memory.
After a couple of agonizing minutes, Xavier enters the lunchroom again carrying two trays of steaming h0t steak. He walks to my side, placing one tray in front of me and one in front of his seat. My mouth hits my knees as I examine the food. Steak is my favorite type of food—a delicacy that I developed a taste for in childhood—and this one looks especially delicious.
“Thank you so much,” I say gushingly, breaking out into a smile. I take the silver knife beside the steak and dig in, wondering just how he managed to get this yummy food.
He just stares at me as I gobble down the delicious meat, a tiny smile on his face. “Don’t thank me,” he says quietly, “just be happy.”
“Oh, I am,” I reas-sure him as I delve my fork dee-per into the delicious entree.
“Obviously the way to your heart is throu-gh food,” Xavier laughingly comments. In a moment of vulnerability, I laugh with him, my voice carrying across the room.
Then I remember that I am not supposed to even smile in Xavier’s pres£nce.
However, I have no time to wipe off my grin, for the biggest fish in the sea is swimming our way. In other words, Sidney Richa-rd s, two of her girls following behind her as backup. I don’t even know their names, nor does most of the school’s population. They are just known as Sidney’s girls, only good for fake laughs and compliments. Just what Sidney nee-ds.
She troops over to us from her royal throne, fli-pping her blonde hair back from her face every few seconds, confidently strutting in her five-inch tall golden pumps. With a Sk-irt about five inches above the dress code requirements and a blouse with a bit too many bu-ttons undone, she has successfully secured the stares of every boy in school.
Finally reaching our table, she cast Xavier a smile not unlike the one she used a couple of hours ago. “Hey,” she tries to make her voice smooth and sweet, “I’m Sidney, and these are two of my girls.” I almost laugh when I notice that even Sidney doesn’t say their names.
Xavier takes another bite of his delicious steak, and then looks up into Sidney’s most-likely-modified face. “You probably know my name,” he says plainly, clearly uninterested.
Sidney looks surprised, but she quic-kly recovers, reaching to the end of her now mini-Sk-irt and f!ngering it, trying to draw his attention to her bronzed th!ghs that are muscular, yet slender. He doesn’t notice her efforts, looking to the ceiling, then back at his delectable steak. “Do you want to sit with us?” she offers quic-kly, “away from this reject?” I wince at the word reject, at the way she doesn’t even look at me, as if I am worth nothing. Away in the background, I see three sp©ts left open, one for Sidney and two for her girls.
“There’s no sp©ts,” he tries to evade a direct answer, but that doesn’t st©p Sidney. With a snap of her f!ngers, an a-list jock is immediately dismissed, degraded to a b status. Now there is Ian, two other jocks, and one of her girls sitting at the table.
“For you,” she tells him, a s£dûçt!veexpression gracing her features, “there is always a sp©t.”
“I decline,” he says abruptly, digging back into his meat. Sidney just stands, her mouth in a perfectlyl-ip-glossed “o”.
“B-but-t,” she stutters, “no one ever declines!” Her words are f0rç£d, cheerfulness evaporating. I see a sliver of doubt enter her, a drop of low esteem sli-pping into her bloodstream.
“Well,” he says after wiping his mouth with a napkin, “I am not no one. I can do whatever the cra-p I want. And right now, I don’t want to sit at your table.”
Her eyes wi-den, her voice strained. The whole lunchroom is staring at us, and I suddenly feel as if we are un-der a sp©tlight, unable to escape from it. “So you are just going to sit with this loser?” she finally casts a hate filled glare at my form. Abruptly, I start to shiver as I am turned to ice by her gaze. I can tell, at that moment, that she wants me completely and utterly dead.
Xavier stares at her face, not once wavering. “plea-se, Cindy-”
“Sidney,” she dryly corrects, most likely a first for her.
“Sorry,” he apologizes, and then continues, “It’s just that Mona will be alone if I leave her to go with you, and I can’t allow that.” He speaks calmly and gentlemanly, respect now in his tone. I blus-h at his words, the redness blooming on my slightly pale cheeks.
Sidney glances at me, as if she was really looking at me for the first time. “Mona,” she murmurs to herself, as if she was trying to remember my name. Then she perks up and smiles once more at Xavier. “Okay then,” she says, “maybe another time.” With another snap of her f!ngers, all three of them turn and start strutting towards the royalty table. However, when Xavier’s head is turned, she looks back and shoots me a glance of pure loathing. The shivers begin again; creeping up and down my spines, chilling me to the bone.
I return my gaze to Xavier finally, my fork lingering over the last bite of steak. “Are you not hungry?” he asks curiously. I ba-rely shake my head, the coldness freezing me silent. I eat the last piece, chewing it robotically.
Suddenly, a warm hand encircles mine, bringing me everlasting warmth. Xavier propels my hand towards his meat, stabbing a ju-icy piece with my fork. “Try this,” he softly suggests. Drawing my hand and fork towards my face, he prompts me to eat it, awakening bu-tterflies in my stomach. I am now a giant red tomato, with cheeks as red as a fire engine. “Is it good?” he asks, smiling, gently re-leasing my arm from his grip. Girls all across the lunchroom stare in envy and disgust at me, Xavier’s fan club probably alre-ady planning an ambush.
“Yes,” I murmur, distracted by the way his eyes sparkle in the light. His meat is a little different, yet just as good. Embarras-sment fli-ckers across my features as I realize that I am staring.
Xavier chuckles, and then shoots me a wi-nk. “I can’t wait to introduce you to Wes,” he laughs, “he will have you melting into a puddle on the floor.”
“Wes?” I ask curiously.
“Only the biggest flir-t in the whole world,” he smiles, “you’ll meet him at the mansion after school.”
“Oh really…” I say, not quite grasping his words. Then, I suddenly un-derstand.
“What mansion?! I never heard you talk about going to a mansion!”
“Um, Mona? I told you about it before we got to school,” he clarifies, my lack of memory surprising him.
I scoff, my red hair waving slightly, “Oh yeah, I remember… but you weren’t serious, were you?”
“Of course I was,” he says seriously. I start to laugh, merry pearls of joy that reverberates around the lunchroom.
“There is no way you are taking me there,” I reply. I am NOT going to a mansion alone with Xavier. For all I know, he might kill me in the forest and eat me.
Well, I guess that would defeat the purpose of saving me from definite death, but still.
“You wanna bet?” he asks dangerously, his eyes alight. I look at the floor, not wanting to say anything. If I do spit out a word, he might pick me up and carry me out of the lunchroom to the mansion right now, in front of the whole school.
Yep. Silence is best right now. And careful planning, of course.
I’ll just escape from him…
Tbc