Cold Fire [SAMPLE]

[6]

 CHAPTER SIX

I feel sick as I make my way to my second class, not only because I unintentionally killed a girl and a ghost is out to kill Caden, but also because all those times when I felt the cold creeping over my skin, thinking my disease was leaving me for good, I was really being watched by a ghost, possibly one sent to kill me. It would make sense. I've unintentionally caused a number of deaths, plus, I ruin the atmosphere of every place I decide to visit. I'm sure there's someone out there who hates me enough to have me killed. 

I sit through maths, solving the equations on the handout sheet without much drama. I've always been good at maths, I've just never bothered with homework or study since I'm always changing schools. Why bother trying when all your hard work is just going to be erased, leaving you to start all over again?

In the two classes I have after recess I get a few looks, one of which is particularly murderous. I decide that they must have had some relation to the girl who died and look in the other direction before I throw up. As much as they hurt for losing someone they love, I'm pretty sure I hurt just as much, if not more.

Not many teenagers can claim to having killed someone, and most of those who can have intentionally killed someone. It is impossible to imagine the guilt that accompanies accidently causing the death of numerous people unless you've been through the experience personally, and I can honestly say, it's one of the most painful things ever.

At lunch, Caden sits next to me under the tree and I don't bother to ask why. If he wants to jeopardize his ability to make other friends, then so be it. Thankfully, the rain has let up, so we aren't the only ones on the lawn which makes me feel strangely comforted – like I'm not alone.

My next class passes slowly, the time inching forward second by second. Usually I don't mind Science, but Caden's in my next class and I have questions bobbing in my head that need to be let out. I don't think that's the only reason I want to see him, but at the moment, it's the only one I care about.

When my next class – English – does finally come, I spot Caden up the back, his books on the desk next to him. Something in me warms at the sight of the reserved seat, and I realise that this is what friendship feels like – to know someone cares about you.

I sit down, smiling lightly, and open my books, ready for class. A group of kids file in through the door, speaking loudly and laughing. They take the spots in the second row and lounge casually on top of the desks with their feet on chairs. Everyone around them slinks away, not wanting to get in their way.

I, too, avert my eyes, thankful for my spot up the back. I know their type, and so I focus on my book, praying to be unnoticed. But when I sneak a look up, I see that a boy with dark brown hair is glaring at me. He leans in to speak with the rest of his friends and before I can comprehend what's happening, half the group is heading in my direction.

My heart starts to hammer in my chest, and fear drives me to my feet as they approach.

"Melissa?" Caden asks, looking up at me. My mouth is unresponsive, my jaw – slack. It's all I can do just to stay in place, let alone form a sentence in my head.

A bulky brown-haired boy that I recognise as Branden – a guy who is a popular for a reason I still don't understand – storms over to me, his face overtaken by anger. His hand wraps around the front of my shirt and he pushes me backwards, slamming me into the wall so hard that my vision flickers and a searing headache rips through my head, muddling up my thoughts.

"I knew her," he snarls through gritted teeth, his face so close that I can smell his breath. I want to gag, but instead, I try to angle my head away and squeeze my eyes shut, wishing to be anywhere but here. "You murdered her and I'm gonna kill you for what you did, you hear me?"

When I fail to respond, he pulls me away from the wall and slams me back into it so hard that the air gushes out of my lungs and pain ignites in my head and back, scattering throughout my body like glass crawling under my skin. 

"Hey! Back off!" The voice sounds muted and distant, as if they're standing on the other side of a wall, and my eyelids start feeling heavy.

Branden leans back, his head turning to the side and I let out a breath, relieved to have his eyes off me. "What'd you say?" he growls. 

"I said to back off. It wasn't her fault," the person says calmly. I realise then that the owner of the voice is Caden. 

Suddenly, Branden lets go of my shirt and I find that I can't hold my own weight. My knees buckle and I fall to the ground. I struggle to get into a sitting position, and even then, my head feels too heavy on my shoulders. I try to watch the scene unfolding before me, but I have trouble keeping my eyes open, and when I try to focus on the figures in front of me, I feel dizzy and the throbbing headache intensifies. 

Their words drifts over to me, and I can only just make out what their saying.

"You wanna try telling me again?" Branden snarls. "Because I'm warning you, the last person who told me what to do went home with a broken arm."

Caden seems unperturbed, and, if it's possible, even slightly bored.  "Just stay away from her, alright? She didn't kill that girl."

Branden is fuming now, and the sight of him sends fear racing through me. "That girl died from the cold that this freak brought with her. She deserves everything she gets and don't you dare tell me otherwise."

Before Branden can react, Caden throws a punch at his face, sending him flying a few steps backward.

Branden, whose nose is now bleeding, retaliates by swinging his own fist. But Caden reacts too fast, grabbing Branden's arm and twisting it around behind his back until his face is contorted in pain. "She's not a freak," Caden says calmly. "If you call her that again, you'll be the one going home with a broken arm. You got that?"

I stare at him in awe, amazed not only that he'd defend me, but that he'd also taken on Branden and come out victorious. He even made it look easy.

Branden nods and Caden releases his grip on his arm, pushing him away so that he stumbles back to his desk, clutching his shoulder.

Caden crouches down next to me. "Are you alright?"

I manage to nod, and he pulls me slowly to my feet, leading me over to my desk.

"Do you need to go to the office? You might have a concussion."

I shake my head, which sends pain arcing through my mind. I hold a hand to my head as I sit. "I'll be fine. Just, whatever you do, don't tell the teacher when she arrives. She hates me."

Caden slides into the seat next to mine, choosing not to respond. Softly, I say, "You didn't have to defend me, but I'm glad you did. So thanks."

He smiles, says, "You're welcome," and several minutes later, the teacher enters the room in a hurry, conscious of the fact that she's late to her own class. She dumps her stuff onto her desk and calls the roll. When she reaches Branden's name, she notices his bleeding nose and asks, "What happened?"

I know that I can trust Branden not to tell – there's no way he would want word to get out that the new boy kicked his ass – so I'm not surprised when he shrugs and says, nonchalantly, "I got a nose bleed."

The teacher sends him off to the nurse, believing his every word, before launching into the lesson. She talks for what seems like forever and I have trouble listening to what she says with my throbbing headache. When she finally hands out the classwork, my head is hurting so much that I can only answer the first question.

Thankfully, the bell goes before the teacher can notice and I make a hasty exit, glad that the school day is over.