Bones of the Wicked

Chapter 2 | Pine

I inhale deeply as I make my way down the hall. New school, same students. The differences are names and faces because even their scents are too indistinctive. This place will be just as bad but with any luck it won’t be worse. Dad would have a fit if I acted out again. I look at the class schedule and the map that came along with it one more time. Biology in room 311 should be down the hall on the left side. I fold the paper back up carelessly and stuff it into my jeans.

High school sucks, no matter what road you take. I’ve been to enough schools to see all the different personas. If you’re popular, you’re too fake for even you too realize. The nerds need to get the best grades. As a loner, you’re a target or invisible. As a jock, you have to act the best but you don’t necessarily have to be the best. Art freaks all secretly think they’re the most talented. Bandos are oddly big on parties. Even the Dungeons and Dragons gang have their standards.

My wolf doesn’t like pretending to be anything other than it is. No one really understands that burden. My primal side is heightened, my instincts kicked into overdrive. I’m the youngest of my kind that my parents or I know of. We’re not sure if my distaste for the majority of people I meet is due to my wolfish side or my teenage angst. Most likely, it’s both.

Room 311 is like any other modern classroom: the floor looks new as does the SMART Board in the corner and the projector screwed into the ceiling. My Biology teacher leans on his desk as other students pile in behind me. The ugliest sweater vest I’ve ever seen is donned on his torso over an untucked blue checkered shirt. It screams ‘I don’t care about my job’ in a vintage sort of way. His arms are crossed in front of his chest and his salt and pepper hair is combed strangely to hide the small patch of skin on the back of his head. He seems like such a sweetheart. I shrug my shoulders and move closer to finally get his attention.

“You must be Rupert,” the man greets me. I glance at the whiteboard and see his name scribbled in blue marker. Mr. Baldet. The mismatched letters of the e and t in his name is enough to tell me how much his students love him. I extend my hand anyway but he doesn’t reciprocate. His mood is as reluctant to be here as the rest of the student population. Mr. Baldet coughs and nods his heads to the desks. “Take a seat in the back and get a feel for the class.”

I can already tell this period will be one I’ll totally enjoy. While trying not to trip over their backpack straps, I uncomfortably shuffle through the narrow space between desks and seated students. Mr. Baldet scratches his barely existent beard. What an exciting guy.

I take my seat as the rest of my classmates hurry in before the buzzer. A few people take their time getting to their desks. It’s obvious they’re glancing my way, their stares are hardly subtle. I’ve moved to plenty of smaller towns and many big ones too but never have I been as scrutinized. It’s been happening all day. I guess it comes with the territory of such a close-knit community like Wakeburg, Pennsylvania.

The buzzer goes off and our class finally starts. Before we’re learning anything, Mr. Baldet gestures to the newest tortured soul: me.

“So as all of you can guess, yes we have a new student,” he says, signaling me to stand. My chair scrapes as I get up and everyone turns to me. I’m used to it. “I’ll let him tell you about himself so you nosey sods can be satisfied. Alright? Mr. Briggs, take it away.”

“Uh, okay,” I start uncertainly. Almost everyone’s attention is directed to me except the girl I can tell is the class loner. She’s sitting in the front and closest to the door, keeping her eyes on the fascinating #2 pencil in her hands. I clear my throat and send an unenthusiastic smile to my new classmates. “My name is Briggs. I moved here because we’ve heard this school is just great. Really, your awesomeness is legendary. I like long walks on the beach and pina coladas. Oh, and getting caught in the rain is just fan—”