1A Chapter by Amber PerryIntroduction to Scout, Daniel, Stella, Joss, and Headmistress Arbott, as well as pretty much dropping you headfirst into the world.Scout stared at her map in dismay. She was
utterly lost, having been wandering around the sea of people for a good ten
minutes and feeling no closer to the dorms than when she started. She twisted the map around, trying to find
recognizable. When her attempt proved futile, she sighed in frustration and
collapsed onto a nearby bench. "Freshman?" Scout whipped her
head around to find the owner of the unfamiliar voice. A tall, dark-skinned boy
with cropped black hair was grinning down at her. "Yeah. How'd you guess?" The boy laughed and plopped down beside
her. "I recognized that look of 'hopelessly lost,'" he informed her.
"I was wearing it last year." He stuck out a hand. "Daniel
Alabaster." Scout took his hand and pumped it up and
down. "Jennifer Scout. I prefer Scout, mostly." Scout motioned down
at her black T-shirt, cameo pants, and combat boots. "I'm not exactly
girly enough to be a Jenny." Daniel laughed again. "What are you
looking for, Scout?" "Right now, I'm just trying to find
the dorms. I need to unload my bags." Daniel looked over her green
backpack and the brown suitcase she'd been lugging around. "You've got a lot less in tow than
most of the other girls that come through this place," he observed. Scout looked at him, eyebrows high.
"Well, I use shampoo and soap. I have one stick of eyeliner which I know
for a fact will last me at least six months. All of my clothes fit in about half
the suitcase. My laptop's in here," she said, motioning to her backpack,
"and I don't carry a purse. I have three hats, a couple posters, and
everything else is school supplies. I don't have a billion 'necessities' like
most girls." Daniel smiled slyly. “What sort of school
supplies did you bring?” Scout cocked her head. “Was I supposed to
bring something aside from the usual? Pencils, notebooks, and things of that
nature, right?” “Oh, you’ll see. Anyway,” Daniel said,
abruptly rising, “let’s get you to those dorms.” Scout snorted. “Way to change the
subject,” she muttered, but didn’t object past that. She picked up her suitcase
with the assurance that she’d find out soon enough and followed Daniel as he
expertly weaved through the crowds. He obviously knew his way around, so Scout
simply trailed behind him, hating the fact that she was feeling just a bit like
a lost puppy. When they arrived at the dorm building,
Daniel opened a large oak door and stepped into a big, open room filled with
couches and chairs. People bustled about the space, and very few places to sit
were empty. “This is the common room. The girls’ wing
is those two doors off to the right, and the men are over here, the two doors
to the left.” Daniel flopped down onto a couch and kicked his feet up. “I hope
you know which room you’re supposed to be in, because I’m not allowed in the
women’s dorms. Rooms one through seventy-five are through door A, and
seventy-six through one-fifty are through door B. Have fun.” Scout thanked him and started down the
hall marked A, counting off doors as she went. Jeez, she thought. This
place is huge! She climbed a staircase and continued walking. Twenty-five, twenty-seven, twenty-nine… She stopped short and backed up a yard or
two and looked to the other side of the hall. Aha! Twenty-eight! Scout
unlocked the door with the key she’d received at the office that morning and
threw open the door. A girl was already in there, totally
unpacked. She’d hung bead strings along the walls of the side of the room that
she’d clearly already claimed. When Scout cleared her throat uncertainly, the
girl looked up from the book on her lap and turned. Scout took in the sight of
her gorgeous roommate with awe. She had long black hair that curled into
delicate waves that framed her Latino-tanned face. Her dark brown eyes
glimmered with serious intelligence, and it was obvious that she was observing
Scout with just a bit of disdain. Scout suddenly felt self-conscious of her
blue eyes and mousy brown hair, wishing she’d done something a little prettier
with her clothes, which made her look like a total non-girl compared to her
roommate’s knee-length pencil skirt and figure-flattering pink halter top. “You are my roommate?” the girl asked in a
cute Peruvian accent. “Um, yeah. I’m Scout. Jennifer Scout.”
Scout stuck out a hand awkwardly. The girl took it and carefully shook it.
“I am Estella Maria Gonzales. You may call me Stella, if you wish, as my
classmates at home used to do.” She looked around and shifted her weight
uncomfortably. “I hope you do not mind that I have picked my bed already. I got
here at nearly seven o’clock this morning.” Scout grinned in a plucky effort to break
the ice. “Nah, it’s cool. I like sleeping on the right, anyhow.” Stella smiled
for the first time, and Scout sighed inwardly, relieved. She began unloading her various things. It
didn’t take long, so she went ahead and hung up her posters as well. Again, the
contrast between her tastes and Stella’s was so blatantly obvious that it
almost hurt to look between the silver and blue beads that hung gracefully from
the ceiling to the black and red posters that were stuck to the wall with
ordinary duct tape. “Linkin Park? Breaking Benjamin? Paramore?
Who are these?” Stella’s nose wrinkled in curiosity. “I’ve never heard of
them.” Scout looked at her roommate,
horrorstruck. “You’ve… you’ve never… heard…” she spluttered. Stella shook her
head. “Did you live under a rock prior to coming here?” Scout wondered aloud as
she pulled her laptop out of her backpack and booted it up. Stella walked over to Scout’s bed to see
what she was doing. “Not a rock, exactly,” she mumbled in answer to Scout’s
rhetorical question. “West Virginia.” Scout pretended not to hear as she pulled
up her favorite music-sharing website. She keyed “Breaking Benjamin” into the
search box and rapped her fingers on the bed as it loaded. When it did, she
scrolled down and clicked “Give Me a Sign” as she turned on the speakers. As the song started playing she warily
watched Stella’s changing facial expressions. Her features progressed from
confused… to a careful, calculating look… to appearing like she was actually
enjoying herself. She nodded her head back and forth in time with the beat and
was actually singing along by the last chorus. When the song was over, Scout beamed at
Stella. Without a word, she typed in “Misery Business” and soon Haley Williams’
voice blared through the room. Stella grinned and danced in a way that implied
her complete ignorance to the popular hip-swivel, cleavage-flaunt that most
girls chose to use. “That is very good,” Stella admitted when
it was over. “Certainly, I would love to hear more later.” Scout glanced up in confusion, as she’d
already been about to type another title. “Later? What’s wrong with now?” “Freshman orientation? We have ten minutes
to be at the main lecture hall,” Stella said as she pointed a perfectly
manicured nail at the clock on the wall. “Well, crap.” Scout stood and started for
the door, just a tad irritably. After all, she’d only been there about fifteen
minutes, and already she was being forced to find another building. “Do
you know your way around here?” Scout asked in frustration. “I have a map.” “I had a map!” Scout pouted. “That doesn’t
mean I can find anything.” Stella smiled. “You cannot read a map?” “Oh, shove off.” Scout slung her backpack
over her shoulder and stuffed her laptop inside in one fluid motion. “Get me to
the lecture hall.” “Como quieras, terca comandante chica.” “And don’t speak Spanish at me!” Scout
ordered with annoyance. Stella grinned and a dimple appeared in her left cheek. As Stella led Scout around campus to get
to the orientation, Scout hoped they were handing out class schedules during
the program, or immediately after, or something. She still hadn’t received an
itinerary, and classes started the next day. It’d be awfully embarrassing to be
late to a class she didn’t know she was even taking. Scout noticed as they walked that the
other kids were scattered fairly evenly. This disappointed her a little,
because she figured the flocking patterns might help her to see where the
freshmen were supposed to be. There were people everywhere, but no more in any
one place than another. When they got to a brick building, Stella
announced in her clipped accent that they’d arrived. “How can you tell?” Scout asked,
squinting. “It looks the same as all the others!” “Well,” Stella began, unfolding her map
for the umpteenth time while Scout peered over her shoulder to see, “that over
there is the sports field. Also, the big sign above the door says ‘Main Lecture
Hall.’” Scout looked right and saw a group of kids playing tackle football. She
looked around the corner of the building and saw that there was, in fact, a
sign over the huge doors as well. “Oh. Okay.” She pushed her way through the
doors. Lots of students were already seated and staring at envelopes. Before
Scout could register the oddness of that, a pudgy man with an ugly polka-dot
tie stopped her before she could breeze past him. “Hello,” he said cheerfully. “Your seat is
the one with the envelope bearing your name. They’re arranged alphabetically.
In the envelope you should find your semester schedule and a paper explaining
why you were placed in the particular classes you received. Understood?” When
Scout nodded, he said, “Good. Move along, please.” As she stepped forward, she
heard him begin the same speech to whoever was behind her. She started along the last few rows of
seats, looking at the names on the envelopes to give her a ballpark of where
she’d be. Zimmerman… Tucker… Smith… Ryder… Scout backed up one row and moved in until
she found the envelope marked “Scout.” “What the heck is this?!” the girl to
Scout’s right said. “Intro to Weaponry? Demonology for Beginners?
What kind of school is this?” A curious glance toward the voice revealed
a slight girl with an incredulous expression staring at the unfolded paper in
her lap. Her hair was bleached-blonde with shocking fuchsia tips. She wore a
black corset over a red-and-black long-sleeved shirt accompanied by a black
lacy micro miniskirt, fishnet tights, and blood red stiletto heels. She noticed
Scout staring at her and turned her heavily lined, glossy, grey-green eyes to
meet Scout’s. “What’d you get?” she demanded in
distress. Scout tore open the envelope. 1) Latin I " Mr. Sneed 2) Street Smarts " Miss Gibson 3) Intro to Weaponry " Mr. Harper 4) Tracking " Mr. Keown 5) Demonology for Beginners " Ms. McGinty 6) Integrated Chem./Bio " Mrs. Paulson 7) Physical Education " Mr. Smith “What the…?” Scout pulled out the second paper, the
one with the specifics and information. 1) Latin I was chosen for you because you show promise with roots and
pre/suffixes already. 2) Street Smarts was chosen for you because you show
exemplary “people” skills and may do good undercover work. 3) Introduction to Weaponry was chosen for you because it is a
required course for all freshman students. 4) Tracking was chosen for you because you show signs of keen awareness
and accompanies your possible future of excellence in the field of undercover
work. 5) Demonology for Beginners was chosen for you because it is a
required course for all freshman students. 6) Integrated Chemistry and Biology was chosen for you because it is a
prerequisite for any Magicks course, an area which you show promise for. 7) Physical Education was chosen for you because it is a required
course for all students every year. Dumbfounded, Scout stared
over at the girl with the fuchsia-tipped hair. Numbly she heard herself say, “I
do believe we’re not in Kansas anymore.” Fuchsia-Tips laughed out loud. “I don’t
see any Munchkins,” she observed. Scout cracked a slightly hysterical smile.
“If anybody mentions a Wizard, I’m leaving.” Fuchsia-Tips clapped her hands. “I like
your style,” she declared. “I’m Joss. You and me can crack open this nuthouse,
I think.” “You and I,” Scout corrected under her
breath. “What’s that?” “I’m Scout,” Scout said. She felt like she
was in a bit of a fog and ran a hand through her hair nervously. “What do we
do? I mean, I thought I was here because I was smart.” Joss snorted. “I thought something was
weird, because I’ve gotten straight Cs since pre-school. I guess I thought
they’d finally made a place to ship off all the people like me. Nonconformists,
freaks, and misfits.” She eyed Scout with genuine interest. “You don’t look
like a misfit. I mean, you don’t look like a prep, but you don’t even
remotely resemble me, either.” She grinned. “Which is probably a good
thing for you. Society generally frowns on people like me.” Scout smiled. She liked this girl already,
despite her odd way of bluntly stating everything that seemed to go through her
head. She opened her mouth to respond, but was interrupted by the sharp click
of heels on the tile floor up front. A very severe-looking woman had taken the
stage. She wore a neatly pleated mauve suit and her short brown hair was
twisted into a small bun at the nape of her neck. Her grey eyes didn’t miss a
lick. Her harsh, unwavering gaze caught every last movement, breath, or blink.
A silver microphone was gripped in her hand, which she lifted to her face to
speak. “Welcome, incoming freshmen,” she began,
“to Malicide Academy. My name is Ms. Arbott, and I am your headmistress. I
understand that if you’ve already opened your itineraries that you probably
have numerous questions. If you still have them when we finish here, feel free
to ask. However, in the meantime, I must ask your full attention. “At the end of the eighth grade, every
young adult in America is made to take a series of tests. These tests are
masked, of course, to appear purely academic. They are disguised as IQ tests,
career surveys, and the like. Those students who fail the tests move along to
their local high school as though nothing happened. For them, I suppose nothing
did. Those who pass the tests, however… come here. “Malicide Academy.” The woman surveyed the
students slowly, allowing them to digest this. “Have any of you taken any Latin
courses? Are you familiar with any etymology?” A few scattered students raised
their hands, Scout among them. “Can anyone tell me what the prefix mal-
means?” Arbott pointed at a boy with light blonde
hair. “Mal- means bad, or evil,” he said carefully. “And the suffix "cide?” the woman
continued. Nervous glances were shared by all. No one was willing to define it,
as though saying it were a very curse in and of itself. Finally, slowly, a pale girl with insanely
curly fire-red hair raised a steady hand. She didn’t look scared, Scout noticed
as she craned her neck to see the few rows down where the girl sat. She looked…
almost dangerous. Focused. “It means death. It means to kill.” She
never broke eye contact with the headmistress, barely blinked when a murmur
rippled through the crowd of students. “Evil death?” “Bad killing?” “Why have I never heard of this school?” “Death?” “Is she threatening us?” “Who is she, anyway?” “What’s going ON?” “Are we going to die?” “We’re supposed to kill people!” “Why are we here?” “Why us?” “She’s going to kill us!” “We’re going to DIE!” All at once, the entire hall was in
pandemonium. The red-haired girl remained seated, but tension was written all
over her face. Everybody else was on their feet. Scout and Joss looked at each
other and Joss nodded toward the stage, where Arbott was standing quite still.
She looked a little bemused, but mostly like she’d seen it before and was
waiting for everyone to settle themselves down. Scout saw Joss yell something
at her and point toward the stage again, but hearing was out-of-the-question by
then. Scout understood what Joss meant, though, and within moments both girls
were pushing their way through the crowd and shoving to get to the stage. Joss
ran over to Arbott and snatched the microphone out of her hand before she could
so much as object. “HEY!” Joss yelled directly into the mike.
The projection of her voice combined with the microphone’s feedback was enough
to get everyone’s attention; the panicked chatter ceased immediately. “Let the
woman finish! If she were just going to kill us, how would there be
upperclassmen?” She proceeded then to chuck the mike back at the woman and drag
Scout back up to their seats. “An excellent point. Thank you, Miss
Shadley,” Arbott said. “How does she know my name?” Joss hissed
into Scout’s ear. Scout shrugged. She had a feeling this woman knew ALL their
names, plus tons of fun facts about each and every one of them. “To tell you that you are not in any
danger would be not only pointless but a lie. Danger lurks everywhere,
especially for us. You see, we are demon hunters. We have a slight mutation in
our genetic makeup, which makes us faster, stronger, and have more acute senses
than the normies. The general terms we use here, by the way, are muties"meaning
mutants, meaning us; and normies"meaning normals, meaning them.” No one said anything. Scout glanced at
Joss, who was grinning widely and mouthing something that might have been,
“Bring it on, demon scuzz!” Scout felt the corners of her lips twitch
uncontrollably upward. Arbott looked around at everyone and a
hint of a smile crept into her harsh face. “I see promise here. I believe this
group has a great deal of potential.”
With that, she waved one thin hand toward
the door in dismissal. © 2013 Amber PerryAuthor's Note
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Added on November 21, 2013 Last Updated on November 21, 2013 Tags: Scout, Daniel, Stella, Joss, Headmistress Arbott, Malicide Academy, demon hunting AuthorAmber PerryAboutI have a million ideas bouncing around in my head, but I haven't finished anything yet. Based on you guys' feedback, hopefully I'll get an idea of what ideas are worth something and what ideas should .. more..Writing
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