: He does have perfect shoulders!
Aaron: SEE! It’s not just me, Lyna also has good taste!
: I’ll tell you everything after class
Van: You better.
“I still can’t believethat you have a date with Victor Allen! You’d better video call us when you pick your outfit because weboth know you love being comfy a bit too much.” Vanessa says as we’re walking out of school.
“Ouch! But she’s right, luv, you can be a bit lazy with your wardrobe. Good thing you’re cute and have a great ass!” Aaron puts his arm around my shoulder, my head barely reaching his chin.
“What does my ass have to do with anything?”
“It makes anything that looks lame look three times better.” He states that as if it’s a known fact, which might be if you’re a celebrity, but that doesn’t work for common mortals. Some days you just feel a bit too round.
“Damn, why am I being attacked? Just because I don’t care about impressing some teenagers with my clothes doesn’t mean I don’t have a fashion sense.” Exasperation leaks through my words.
“Whatever you say luv, but we won’t risk it, so just call us.” I roll my eyes at them as we reach my jeep. Since I'm the only one with a car, I end up driving Aaron and Van home most days. In exchange, they pay for my gas, even if I try to refuse, which I’ve done countless times. They’re relentless, though, and that’s the reason we’re best friends.
We drop Aaron off first, and then I make a stop in front of the pristine Hawthorne mansion.
“Alright! Text me when you get home.” Says Vanessa, closing my old Jeep’s door a bit too strongly.
“Okay, Mom!” I shout back before taking the way home.
Twenty minutes later, I finally reach my house, tucked at the end of a gravel road, surrounded by dense trees. It’s an old, two-story place with peeling white paint, a sagging porch, and ivy climbing on one side like it’s slowly claiming it. Despite its worn-down appearance, there’s a certain warmth that seeps from its every crack and corner. Most places have always made me feel like a guest–temporary, out of place–but not this one.
This one feels likehome.
My hands are full with my bag, keys, phone, and water bottle, so I juggle everything awkwardly as I plan how I’m going to unlock the door. Just as the tip of the key slides in, I freeze.
My dad’s sharp voice slices through the still air, drifting out from the open window. His tone is controlled, like he’s trying to keep his anger from boiling over. Which is so unusual, because the only times I've seen him truly angry are when someone would mistreat Ruby, when I was bullied at school or if people don’t use their signals on the road.
“She’s not ready!”
I slowly slink closer.
“What are you talking about? That was never the plan!”
Okay... Why is he so angry, and who the fuck is he talking to? Is it about me? What plan? This is my last year of high school, so maybe it's about college. But I'm a year older than my classmates, so technically, that is long overdue. Even if it is about university, his words don't make any sense.
“She’s not awakened.”
Awakened?
What the fuck does that even mean?
“I know what my duty requires of me.Fada beò Kvirr”
I gasp as the words reach my ears.
Instinctively stepping aside, fearing my dad might have overheard me. My fingers stumble with my keys as I try to calm my racing heart.
What does he mean by "duty"?
Adutyto what?
But what I can't wrap my head around is that he mentionedKvirr.My dad, the man who dismissed my nightmares as mere imagination, attributed them to coping with the death of my mom and brother. The endless nights when I was too frightened to close my eyes because I knew in my gut that I would seesomething terrible. Something that haunts me… Its claws dig deeper each time. My dad just saidthatsupposedly fictional word. My stomach tightens as realization washes over me.
