Guardians of the gates {YA Fantasy Romance, Fantasy Academia}

1.

There's a grave, but I'm not in it. They shed tears for something that hasn't happened yet. We fight to hold on and then we fight to let go. Not because we don't care anymore, but because we love them so much. A wise woman once said: the journey can only begin when we're willing to let go...

***

Before I got on this school trip, I've suffered from nightmares for weeks on end. Now my mother is plagued by the same horror that rattles her awake from the deep sleep. I'm the only person who can comfort her by reassuring her three times a day I'm not injured or dead. So for the second time today I'm trying to text her I'm fine and alive  but the jerky movements of the bus make me type gibberish.

Damn. I sigh deeply. 

My overprotecting mother and her fears... Besides, fine is such an understatement since for two nights and three days, I'm stuck with my biggest enemies. If my mother would really know how it's like, she'd totally freak out, contact school, pick me up at once and then... things would get far worse.

No way I'm going that road again.

So, the daily texting is a total waste of time, one big lie and frustrating as hell. I'm not fine and as long as I'm stuck at this school, I'm never, ever going to be fine.

I snap out of my thoughts when the bus instantly stops. "Shit." An uncontrolled sweep of my hand lets the text disappear from the screen.

"Are we there?" My best friend, Gus, leans over to look outside.

Actually, he's not really my best friend. It feels more like two inmates condemned to each other and to the same fate. I'm sure that if we would have met in a less bullying class or in better circumstances, we would never have spoken more than a few words, or that I would only have nodded to him at first contact and that would have been all. I'm sure I wouldn't have taken the effort to even speak to him. But as we're both victims, we stick together to make a front against the evil that tortures us each day at school.
Not that it helps. Gus is the smallest of the class and the shortest. I am quite curvy, but just a few inches taller. They gave us the nicknames, the fat and the ugly, no doubt which one is mine.

Gus is like a little mouse. As soon as the shit hits the fan, he runs as fast as his tiny legs can carry him away from the dangerous threat. The protective side of me tries to form a barrier between him and the bullying pack, resulting in me getting all the blows, and finally ending up covered in bruises and Gus just fine. Not that I'm such a brave person, not at all. If I can, I'll run too, but I happen to be just a little braver than Gus, making me a kind of hero of the two of us. Strange how such false identity can affect the actions you take when the heat is on.

"Dangit, Gus, watch out!" My text disappears when he almost knocks the phone out of my hands.

"That's quite a walk."

"How is your leg?" I raise an eyebrow.

Yesterday evening, during mischief night, he'd been on his way to the toilets when he ran into Yara and her vicious pack. Unfortunately, I wasn't aware of this. I don't know how this could have happened. We always travel together when going to the toilets or somewhere out of the supervision of the teachers. I think I was getting some drinks for us, and Gus, still suffering from diarrhea from the barbeque with some questionable chicken, couldn't make it all the way to the bar and then to the toilets. So he took the chance to run all by himself, before he became a victim of some embarrassing incident that would have stuck with him for the rest of his life. The bullying pack hadn't hesitated: he got a few bruises and his ankle was sprained. It could have been worse, but Gus thought he could have died back there and he somewhat blamed me for not being there to prevent it from happening. As if it forced him to be the instant hero, a role he definitely doesn't want to take on.