Little Miss Sunshine

I have never been sick a day in my life; not so much as a stomach ache. Before today I wouldn’t be able to tell you why that was, perhaps I just ate the right amount of vitamins and did a good amount of exercise, like the doctors told me to. No one ever knew why I was so resilient, or how I managed to make it through the three worst flu seasons in Florida on record. Well, at least I thought no one knew, but I guess my father might’ve had some idea.

However, I’ve never met him before and from what my mother had told me he was a normal guy. That was the first in a series of secrets and lies my mother had stockpiled to keep me in my happy delusional wonderland.

My mother is a part-time archery instructor at a summer camp and a part-time insurance advisor. She also considers herself a part-time poet, but I disagree. Like me, my mother is tall, strong, and broad shouldered. Unlike me, she stands like a rock: daunting, and unmoving but with a smile that could melt ice. She raised me to be resourceful and reliable; ‘The Two R’s’ as she calls them. I’m doing pretty well with the resourceful part, but the reliable part, well hopefully that’s coming soon. She also used to to preach to me about the importance of honesty, which feels quite ironic now that I’ve found out she lied to me about my dad this whole time.

Who is my father? Well, you’ll just have to wait and see. Yes, I’m putting you through the same torture and suspense I endured. But hey, at least yours only lasts a couple pages, unlike mine; which lasted seventeen years.

Let’s start here, it was my first day of Senior year. I was expecting it to be a little more exciting; like with singing, or drama, or something. But for the first four classes of the day the only excitement was one kid managing to forget his entire backpack at home, and a teacher attempting to beatbox it order to get the classes attention. By the time lunch came around, I was hoping for something at least moderately extraordinary to happen. Well, you know what they say, be careful what you wish for.

I don’t like to admit it; but I don’t have a lot of friends, and by ‘a lot’ I mean any. It’s not that I’m particularly rude or unappealing, I’m just not very good at progressing my relationships beyond casual acquaintance. I can smile and nod to the best of human capacity, but when it comes times for scheduling or showing up at events, my attendance isn’t exactly stellar. I think this has a lot to do with the fact that I don’t have my driver’s license yet. I’m one of the few seniors who hasn’t bothered to get around to that yet.

So at lunch I usually got up to Mrs. Walker’s classroom and eat there. I can work on my homework, listen to music, or doodle in my notebook. Usually she goes and has lunch with the other English teachers, so I get to be alone in the peaceful quiet. It sounds lonely, but I think it’s nice.

Today, after the bell rang signaling the end of fourth period I shouldered my backpack and began the walk. I had brought a bag of pita chips mixed chocolate chips to tide me over. I wasn’t going to dare eat the cafeteria food.

As I approached Mrs. Walker’s classroom I could hear through her open door voices discussing something in hushed tones. Figuring that it was her and another teacher discussing the new grading system (getting a no credit instead of failing) I had no apprehension and was about to walk right in. But I stopped when I heard a male voice whisper:
“Are you sure she eats here every day?”

There was an immediate response from Mrs. Walker, “Yes, unless she started driving over the summer, she’ll be here.”

I was so distracted by my own eavesdropping that I underestimated my shoulder width and I as edged along the side of the hallway, I accidentally rammed into one of the lockers. There was a loud clang and I cursed under my breath for two reasons: I had just revealed my location and it also hurt pretty bad. I may be immune from sickness, but injury is an entirely different story.

The classroom went quiet and I edged closer to get a look. Standing next to Mrs. Walker eyeing the doorway was a man, probably in his late twenties with a scruffy beard and curly brunette hair. He was somewhat handsome, in a rugged sort of way, but his janitor’s jumpsuit detracted from his appearance, especially the weird stain on the sleeve.

He saw me almost immediately, and Mrs. Walker’s eyes followed his stare until they were both looking at me expectantly. Mrs. Walker smiled warmly, which comforted me, and waved for me to come inside.

“Don’t be shy Kimberly,” she said, “Reynold and I were just talking about the best english students of the senior class, so of course your name came up.”

I’d been lied to enough in my life to know that wasn’t the whole truth. But I still entered the classroom.

“Aren’t janitors supposed work night shifts?” I questioned.

Reynold chuckled, “Yeah, but unfortunately some freshman threw up in the quad and I was on call. Lucky me.”

I snickered at his sarcastic comment and set my backpack down at my favorite desk. I took a moment to study him, he seemed like a pretty chill guy but I was still anxious from the fact that they had been talking about me.

As I stared at him I noticed something out of the ordinary, around his hair, like a strange halo, there was a distortion in the air. Similar to those wavy lines that form on the horizon during a hot day. But it was cool inside of the classroom and I was standing only a couple feet away from him. As I looked closer the wavy lines dissipated and instead I was left gawking at the the reality which had previously been masked. Reynold had large curly-q horns spiraling from the top of his head.

I gasped and stumbled backwards in a shocked realization. My ankles caught on one of the legs of the desk and I fell onto my butt.

Both adults stared at me as I scrambled on the carpet floor, basically doing a panicked crabwalk away from them.
“Whoa!” exclaimed Reynolds, “You okay?”

He paced up to me, catching up with my desperate attempt to flee. He reached down in an attempt to help me to my feet, which in the heat of the moment I took as a threatening gesture and I batted his hand away.

As soon as my fingertips made contact with his hand I could see a strange phenomenon happen. From the point where I contacted him, a black venom appeared under his skin, traveling quickly up through the veins in his arm. He retracted and in an action that mirror what I had done earlier, he stumbled backwards. But he caught himself on Mrs. Walker’s desk before he could fall.

The black tendrils crawled up his neck, past his jaw and to his mouth, and he instantly grew pale. The next thing I knew he was curled over the wastebin vomiting violently.

I began to feel myself hyperventilate, and I looked up at Mrs, Walker whose face was painted with multiple concerns.

“Kimberly, Kim,” she pleaded with me raising her hands like she was trying to calm a rabid dog, “Try to calm down.”

“Wh-what is he?” I sputtered, looking at Reynolds who was still retching, “Some kind of demon?”

Mrs. Walker shot me a chastising look as if to say, ‘It’s rude to suggest that people are villains, Kimberly,’ but then her expression faded back to understanding.

“Reynolds is a satyr, he’s here to bring you somewhere safe,” she told me.

“What?” I breathed in disbelief.

“Kimberly, you are a child of Apollo,” she declared, “And for your own safety, you are being taken to Camp Half Blood.”

Notes

This is my first story so I would love to see some comments! Sorry if there is bad grammar or spelling.