Bones of the Wicked

Chapter 1 | Surprises

*One year later*

My eyelids flutter at the passing pine trees outside the bus window. The thrum of the engine vibrates the glass under my forehead, not keeping me awake in any way. I moan and lift myself up drowsily. The cloudy day isn’t helping either. Mornings are difficult since I’ve always been a night owl. This past week in school was brutal with midterms, other super fun tests and homework essays. Late night studying + early morning exams = Brain Dead Kayla.

I extend my legs on the grey vinyl seat, moving my backpack to the floor. Today is another dreary Thursday in Pennsylvania where winters are freezing, summers are sticky and there are barely any in-betweens. Right now, the November weather is chilling me to the core. Our driver doesn’t like turning on the heat so I squeeze tighter on my coat and hope we can get to school faster.

Our bus comes to a stop as we reach Byron’s house. The brakes squeak loudly and I turn my head to look out the window. Byron is already waiting on his front porch, his bag strapped to his shoulder and bouncing as he hurries along. His russet colored locks are combed back today as per his usual style. He glances up at me through the window and winks his abnormally thick lashes my way. I half smile.

Byron is the sweet guy of the class. He is a short package of fun and sarcasm but never in a way that is meant to hurt anyone’s feelings. He’s also very thin but his cheeks still wear the leftover baby fat from his childhood. Byron’s lanky arms pull himself up the stairs and he shifts down the aisle. His hazel eyes brighten as he sees my miserable face. That’s not the only thing I notice though.

“Good morning, starshine,” he greets me. His tone is happy but his eyes look away. I raise my eyebrows at him as he plops onto the seat across from me, gently setting his backpack beside him.

“Hey,” I respond hesitantly.

His clothes look nicer. Much nicer. Underneath his open jacket, a dress shirt is half buttoned over a plain v-neck. Most of the time his clothing consists of dark wash jeans and a t-shirt with an ironic phrase. Byron today has gone out of his way to even use a lint roller to get rid of his Dalmatian’s hair. I continue to stare at him. Dressy version of him seems nervous too.

“What’s the occasion,” I ask dryly. I gesture to his clothes but he tries to cover up. It’s odd since he’s usually honest with me. Byron is the closest and pretty much the only friend I have, not that he knows that. Or he might. Either way I’m not ashamed of it. His leg stretches out and kicks the heel of my boot to see if I’m still awake.

It’s debatable.

“A surprise,” he tells me. I accept his answer easily and hold the seat in front of me as the bus jerks forward. “I have to do some things today and I need to look presentable.”

“Things? What kind of things?”

He cocks his left eyebrow. “Do you know what surprise means?”

I make a face. It’s too early for actual conversation. My bones feel like their being held together by string and the good graces of God willing me to live. I want to go back to my loving bed at home, burrow under my comforter and press my face into my plush pillow. There’s warmth there. Instead I’m on this bus, not even at school yet. I groan as Byron snickers at my pain.

I may complain too much.

My body slides on the seat as we take a sharp left. I sit up straight and stare out the windows. We’re heading back toward my house. Why are we heading toward my house? A kid more toward the front of the bus asks the same question. We all look up waiting for an answer. Rosemary High School resides in small-town Wakeburg, a place where every student knows each other’s address. No one lives out this way except me. June, our burly yet feminine driver, peers into the mirror above her seat.