I walked down the lengthy hall, heading towards the only class that I enjoyed in this dump of a school. My Historical Literature class. Books are my life, but the classics always made an impression on me...the tragedy, the satire, the way the young men courted the girls...I sighed.

“Move, freak.” Lizzie, the oh-so-popular girl, hissed in my ear as she shoved past me into her home education class. I ignored her, tugging down my tight pale green tank top over my black jeans.

“She’s just jealous of you.” My best friend, Jali, whispered in my ear. She is a modern-day Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde – sometimes she’s blue eyed and amber-haired...other times, she’s Junu: red-eyed and black-haired. It’s terrifying.

“Yeah.” I muttered.

“I’m telling you the truth!” She growled, Junu’s eyes flashing a brilliant red.

“Okay, okay.” I held up my hands in surrender.

“She’s just trying to get to you.” Her eyes turned blue again.

“I know...It’s just annoying.” I sighed. She patted me on the back.

“You can do it...only a week left of school anyways!” She giggled and clapped her hands together happily.

“Thank the ever-loving gods...” I raised my hands up in mock worship. Jali smacked me lightly on my back.

“Have fun in class, girl.” She swaggered into her last “class” of the day – a two hour long study hall for the privileged students who already took all the required classes. She only really needs two more credits – Calculus (I gag) and College prep. Humanities (I grin).

“MISS JACKSON!” My crazy literature teacher bellowed from the other side of the corridor. “YOU ARE LATE!”

“I’m sorry Miss Wilderwood!” I called back, running to my locker and shoving my Geometry books in and grabbing A Tale of Two Cites.It might seem boring to some -- even I found it to drag in some parts -- but it was a fascinating tale. History in books...I smiled to myself. Could life get any better?

---

My literature class flew by, but luckily, it was the last class of the day, so once it was over, I ran out the door as fast as I could. I skidded to a stop in front of my locker, my black hair flying into my mouth. I spat it out, ripping the strands away from my face so I could punch in the combination and GET OUT.

“In a hurry?” A male voice asked behind me. I ignored it at first – after all, who talked to me here?

That’s when I felt the tap on my shoulder. “Need help?”

“I’m oka-...oh.” I spun around and my words were cut short. “Hi.” I stuttered awkwardly. The boy in front of me smirked, leaning against the opposite side of the lockers, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Hi.” He mimics my tone, watching my reaction with crystal clear hazel eyes.

“Um.” I shove my books into my locker, swallowing hard. “I-“

“Say no more.” I turned around as the boy interrupted me. He was in the middle of pushing a slender hand through a mess of ash-colored hair.

“Okay?” I shut my locker, backing into it afterwards. The boy extended his opposite hand and I took it gently. He was warm to the touch, with soft skin but calluses on his palms.

“My name’s Xander.” He smiled warmly at me, eyes sparkling with an unknown emotion. “I started a few days ago. I wanted to figure everything out, even though school is almost over.”

“Oh really?” I acted interested. It wasn’t too hard – this was the first boy to bother looking at me in the past few months.

“Yeah. I noticed you were in the majority of my classes, and I wanted to ask you if you could help me out. I’ve been homeschooled my entire life, and I’m not too educated on how this whole...school...thing...works.

I hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “Sure.”

“Really?” His whole face brightened, causing me to giggle.

“Yeah. Just meet me at the public library at four thirty.” I bit my lip nervously.

“It’s a date!” He pushed himself off the lockers. “Well, not a da-“

I held up a hand. “I know what you meant.”

“Okay.” He let out a breath. “See you then.”

I nodded and brushed my hair behind my ear. I watched him go before hurrying out the door and running back to my house as fast as I could.

I walked in, slamming the door behind me and jogging upstairs, dumping my books and backpack on the floor and collapsing on my mattress.

I had to drag myself off my comfy bed at three thirty to get ready to go see Xander at the library, but it took a lot of effort to get in the shower and actually make myself look decent. I took a passing glance in the mirror as I snagged a towel out of my closet. My face, marred with freckles from spending way too much time in the sun, and nothing would ever cover them up.
My black eyes look like they were special delivered from the pits of hell, and my cheeks are colorless as usual.

“Not much I can do.” I sighed, brushing my ratty black hair out of my face and stepping into the freezing cold shower the second I turn it on. I shivered, letting the icy water run down my spine and my long, pale legs before scrubbing myself clean and raking wet fingers through my stringy hair, trying desperately to remove all the impossible tangles in it.

“Owww!” I complained; my neck cracking as I yank the final knots free with conditioner.

My mom rapped on the door with her bony fingers. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Mom.” I grimaced, washing off all the suds from my skinny body and stepping out onto my fuzzy black bathmat. Let’s just say I have a healthy obsession with the color black.

“Where did I put that brush...” I searched my cluttered bathroom counter for it, and seconds later, it fell on the stone floor with a clatter. “There you are.” I reached for some hairspray and coated my hair with it before grabbing my brush.

I straightened and fell back down with a shriek. I gaped up at my steamy mirror, looking for the huge black, twisted figure I had seen behind me not moments ago...but my bathroom was completely empty.

“I’m losing it.” I muttered, but just to be safe I decide to go to my room. I picked up all my beauty products, of which there was hairspray, lotion (ew...I hate feeling like I rubbed myself with oil), perfume, and my brush, which I brandished in front of me when I whipped my door open.

My mom stared at me from down the hall. “What is going on with you?”

“Nothing.” I held my towel to my body and ran for my room, slamming my door behind me by throwing myself against it and sliding down the wood.

“You’re fine, Alia. You’re just imagining things.” I caught my breath, glancing up at my dresser with all my books scattered on it, and my body goes cold all over. In the mirror right above my huge pile of literature is the same black, broken figure I saw not moments ago.

I panicked.

My mom came running into my dark bedroom seconds later to find me curled up in a ball under my towel, crying and shaking, with broken pieces of glass shattered on my black tile floor.

Notes

Chapter one, everybody! Let me know what you think! :)

<3 Echo

((If you have already read this fic, please move on to chapter three. I combined my chapters to make them longer in hopes I can add in a certain piece faster. Thanks!!))