The Altered (working title)

CHAPTER ONE

My alarm clock glows 5:19 AM, and I'm wide awake...again.

For the seventh morning in a row I'm lying in my bed at this ungodly hour for no reason other than my body waking up on its own accord. Like it has a hidden agenda I don't know about. I always find myself staring at the clock at exactly 5:19.

Moonlight shines into my room, from the parted curtains, and I look around for any sign of a disturbance. Everything in order, I focus on listening for any possible sound. The house is quiet. No wind whips passed my window. No dogs barking. No cars driving by. Perfect sleeping conditions.

So, why am I awake?

I lie in bed with the covers pulled up to my chin, locking my body heat inside my makeshift cocoon. It's early spring, so the morning air is crisp, but the day isn't cold enough to constitute turning on the heat. No matter how hard I try I won't fall back asleep. I know this because I've tried desperately the past week to no avail. I'm as far from a morning person as one can get. The first day I woke up this early you would have thought I was suffering from an extreme bout of PMS all day. I almost punched Billy Zimmerman in the face for asking if I was.

Finally giving up, I sigh like a stubborn child before caving into my consciousness. I throw the covers off and climb out of bed to get ready for school. The only upside to waking this early is that I have plenty of time to do my hair, which is usually just thrown into a pony tail in the haste of my morning routine.

#

It's well into third period when I finish my test. And by finish I mean skip an equation entirely and guess the last four multiple choice questions. I flip my test paper over and prop my head up on my hand, letting my mind drift as I pan over the landscape outside the windows, lining the entire wall to my left. I let myself get lost in the swaying of the trees in the early morning breeze. After a few moments, my eyes are immediately drawn to a rather large white creature sitting on a branch of the tree closest to the school.

What is an owl doing out here? Aren't they nocturnal? Come to think of it, I don't know if I've ever actually seen an owl in real life, let alone during the day.

If I were a crazy person, I would swear the bird is staring at me. Like directly at me, as if we're locked in a staring contest and the owl is winning.

There is something odd about the bird I can't put my finger on. The way it sits there seemingly motionless, peering into my soul and in the brightness of daylight no less.

The bell surprises me, and I realize more time has passed since the bird's appearance than I thought. I pack up my things and throw my bag over my shoulder. I grab my test and bring it to the front of the classroom and deposit it into Mr. Sneed's hands on my way out the door.

"Chuck," He calls out, and I reluctantly turn just shy of freedom, "A little more effort next time."

He holds my paper up displaying my art doodles to the few remaining students in the vicinity. I give him a faint smile and turn back to my original destination.

Mr. Sneed is one of the few teachers in school that calls his students by their desired nicknames. My real name is Chaney Montgomery. When I was born, my brother Mitch desperately wanted a little brother instead of the adorable sister Mom brought home from the hospital. So he called me Chuck to help fill the brother-less void in his life. Years passed, and the nickname either grew on me or I grew into it. Either way, Mitch is now the only person who doesn't call me Chuck, which I've never really understood.

In the cafeteria, I deposit my book bag on my usual chair and head to the line to collect my food. Minutes pass and I turn around to spot check my bag and instead see Ethan walking toward me, blocking my view of the table.