Juliet flashed me a small smile before turning down the hall.
Emma Black, let me explain to you, was terrible with a capital T. She was what I had learned long ago to call Queen Bees- girls (and, occasionally, boys) who thought they were practically Godās gift to the world. They thought all who they looked at would grovel at their feet with the slightest hint of a wink. They thought they were made only to be worshipped. They thought everyone who denied their reign was an outcast, a freak.
I flinched at my own poor word choice.
I was a freak. I knew that already. I didnāt need any Queen Bee to call me that to know it was true.
To know there was something very wrong with me.
I shut the locker door quickly, resulting in a loud bang.
I hated Queen Bees.
Why do they have to think theyāre so perfect? Who do they think they are? Why belittle and mock and tease and trash and ruin anyone and everyone they touch when they could just suck it up and think like a human being, just find their friends and leave everyone else alone? Why couldnāt they just act like the humans they are and leave alone the people whoā
My breath caught.
The people who arenāt human.
Though, of course⦠that was only me.
Damn it, Emerson, why do you have to be so damn stupid; why do you have to always turn it back to that stupid curse; why do you always have to relate it to yourā
Something boiled inside me, but I fought to keep it down.
I couldnāt afford an outburst, not here. If I lost control, that would mean going off the grid, forging a new life, pretending to be someone else again.
And, even if this town was filled with Queen Bees and no friends⦠at least there was a semblance of normalcy here.
I couldnāt take that away from her. Not again.
I tugged at a chunk of my dyed-black hair. It was one of the most natural-looking fakes I had ever pulled off, but I still vaguely saw the curly chocolate hair of last time⦠and the sandy, spiked blondeā¦
Each colour sent a new memory through my mind.
Chocolate; the flickering form of a burning school building.
Sand; black vans, the scared face of a girl, and a fire burning, encompassed by ever-frozen ice.
Platinum; a dark lab, test tubes, silver tables, blood samples, andā
I was aware that the room felt hotter.
āShit,ā I muttered. āNo, no, noā¦ā
My heart beat echoed through my ears.
Air flow suddenly stopped seeming possible.
I stumbled forward quickly, trying to get through the crowds of students, get somewhere hidden, anywhere.
I could feel it. Losing control.
FYI: it sucked.
I found my way into the bathroom, clinging my hot hands to the edge of the sink, trying to ignore the porcelain melting against my hands.
I closed my eyes, trying to even my breathing, turning on the cold water quickly.
Think of something else, Emerson. Anything else.
A different shade of platinum blonde ran through my head, followed by icy eyes, stark in its contrast between my own honey brown.
A white glove.
A bowl of blue ice cream.
A candle flame flickering, contained and beautiful.
A snowy Christmas Day, four people sitting by the fire.
As I ran my hands under it, I was well aware of the pain that came with the event. Coldness never responded well to me.
Fire and ice didnāt work well together, after all.
But they were opposites⦠they did balance.
I opened my eyes slowly, watching the edges of flame lick around my palms. It was beautiful, in a way.
But it brought too much death for me to believe it long.
I cranked the water over it, killing the flames off, the only indication they had existed being a small burn that would fade in a few minutes.
I sighed. I wouldnāt have to run away, not today.
Not today.
For her sakeā¦
I heard the class bell ring, but instead of going to biology, I headed towards the office.
Miss Mallard at the front desk was quick to take one look at my burned handsā āJust a science experiment gone wrong; itās okay; it doesnāt even hurt; Mister Gausmann just wanted me to head home, anywayāā and I had a free pass for the day.
I headed back down the hallway again, passing a vaguely familiar brown-haired boy before I got to the locker, but once that was done and I had collected my books, I was quick to get away from the building.
The flames inside of my body flickered angrily, frustrated to have not been released, sending hot energy up through me in an attempt to escape.
They burned me, too, the hot energy hurting me from the inside out in a further attempt to be free, to ravage the world as they saw fit.
But it didnāt matter what the flames did.
I was used to it.
I wouldnāt let them get out.
Not today.
Not ever.
Not ever again.