The Assassin's Shadow

The Assassin's Shadow-Part 2

Chapter 1

The first time I realized there was something different about me was in sixth grade. I was short for my age, even then, and even though it shouldn't have bothered me I was always conscious of the fact.
 But that wasn't why I was different. In fact, I wish it was that simple. 

It's not like I had webbed feet or sharp, pointy teeth. I was the lucky one of my kind in that way, if there was such a thing as a "lucky" one of my kind. But before I get into that, I should start from the very beginning, before I ever knew there was a "my kind" versus "your kind". 


 You should know, however, that this isn't the story of how my life was destroyed by circumstances I couldn't control. This is a story of how I took my power back.

I was born in Denver and, not including the time we moved to Albuquerque for a year until I begged my father to let us move back, we've lived there ever since. I thought I knew what to expect from life. Always the slightly unpopular one, the shy one on the fringe of things as if I were a spectator rather than a participant.

So as I was walking to school on that cold January day, I wasn't paying attention to the kids all around me as they talked and laughed. I was going over in my head a paper I was going to have to read out loud in my world history class. I was never one for public speaking, we shy spectators never talk for we learn more by listening, but I was willing to bend this once if it meant getting a good grade.

I had a dreadful fear of failing. And it was then as I was walking to school on that cold January day, my head full of thoughts on American slavery, that I first saw them.

There were three of them. A girl with short, spiky brown hair that barely reached her chin and two boys both of whom had hair only a bit shorter than hers, one of the boys' hair was blonde and the other's was a blue-black color. Usually caucasian people look strange with that dark of hair but it looked so natural on him I didn't think it was dyed.

They all must have been in their early to mid twenties, too old to be hanging around a high school. The girl sat on the hood of the car and she didn't wear a coat as if she didn't feel the cold. The two boys both wore leather jackets which they had zipped up against the blistering wind. They were getting a lot of stares as people walked by but none of them seemed to notice, they all seemed too engrossed in a conversation they were having.

As I walked by, I saw the boy with blonde hair look up at me out of the corner of my eye but I didn't bother to look any further. I quickly ducked my head into my coat and opened the door to the school building, rushing inside as quickly as I could.

If I had known what was going to happen in the weeks to come, I would have begged my father to uproot my family once more and move us all back to Albuquerque. But I couldn't tell what was going to happen and so there was nothing I could do except go to my first period class, my mind reeling with facts about American slavery as if nothing else mattered.

The bell rang for first period to begin and everyone settled in their seats. My teacher, Mrs. Evendale, called role and then told us that we would be doing our presentations in alphabetical order by last name. I gulped uneasily, realizing that I would be close to first. 

Katrina Adams went first, giving a slideshow about Latin America and then Harry Anderson went. My knees were trembling. Harry finished the last few seconds of his report and went back to his chair.

"Elaine." Mrs. Evendale said. "You're next."

I nodded and got to my feet, trying not to shake. I picked up my report and walked to the front of the classroom. Most of the kids in my class looked up at me with glazed eyes but some had their hands under their desks as they tried not to let the teacher see them texting.