14. Polaris
14
POLARIS
T he rest of the morning rolls into a blur of new surroundings, new textbooks, and new classrooms for every lesson. It's weird, no longer being caged to just the same familiar walls, and despite how overwhelming it feels, I want nothing more than to soak it all in. There have been no more deathly stares cast my way or what feels like public humiliation, but that’s likely because I had classes specifically for witches, so there was no opportunity for it.
Bryony is right at my side as we stroll into the dining room and my anxiety instantly kicks up a notch. My eyes dart around the room, seeking out any threats, but I come up empty-handed as Bryony tugs at my arm.
“Let's get a drink first,” she states, and I frown, spying the water bottles already on the tables. “I don't want water,” she insists as if sensing my thoughts, then she guides me to the right, where there's a drink station set up.
I watch as she fills a glass with a fizzy orange concoction and I follow suit, nervously filling my glass halfway in case it’s gross. We head toward the same table as this morning, and I decide to keep my head down as we breeze past the vampire table. Settling into the seat beside Bryony, I take a tiny sip from my cup and hum in delight at the burst of orange that dances over my tongue. My eyelids fall to half-mast as I shiver at the deliciousness, but I quickly place the glass on the table so I don’t proceed to make a fool out of myself.
I wonder how many people here have drank this stuff a million times. I wonder if they remember their first sip. I know I will for the rest of my life.
Turning my attention to the selection of food spread out on the table, I rub my lips together as I consider my options. It feels much harder than it was this morning when it was just breakfast foods to choose from. Now, there are various meats and accompaniments, carbohydrates, and vegetables, all with little labels. There are some that I’ve never heard of, nevermind tasted, but I shake off the uncertainty and reach for a plain chicken breast, mashed potatoes, and vegetables. I fill my plate with a small portion in case I don’t like it, but the moment the mashed potatoes hit my tongue, I groan.
I need to stop embarrassing myself.
Keeping my gaze fixed on my plate, I will the heat in my cheeks to subside as my mind swirls with endless questions and wonder.
How am I ever supposed to be prepared for this change?
How am I supposed to ever fit in quickly, like I’ve been here the entire time?
How am I supposed to catch up?
How am I supposed to survive a single day, never mind the blood kin curse?
I’m sinking in worry, and to top it all off, deep down, I’m glad my magic is restricted by the sigil and untouchable right now. The thought of adding that to my plate on top of everything else would definitely send me to the brink of no return.
The chairs pull out across the table from me, and I spy D and H. They both remain huddled together, heads down, as they avoid eye contact with me, and I opt to stuff the forkful into my mouth to distract from the disappointment.
Thankfully, it's a comfortable silence that envelops the table as we eat, but I can't help but take in the whole atmosphere of the dining hall as I finish guzzling my new favorite thing in the entire world.
Orange soda.
Placing my empty glass on the table, I glance around the room again, and my eyes latch on to the wolves at the farthest end. Lincoln seems to capture my stare immediately, and I find him surrounded by girls once again. Dragging my eyes away from him, I look down the length of their table, and it becomes abundantly clear that wolves are just a different specimen of man altogether.
When I sense myself wandering down a rabbit hole of hot distractions that I don’t want to get involved with, I turn my attention back to my plate. Once I’m done, I spy a bottle of water on the table and my stomach clenches in disgust. It doesn’t look appetizing anymore—not in comparison to the soda.
Before I can change my mind or talk myself out of it, I stand. “I’m going to go and get another drink.”
Bryony nods in acknowledgment and I quickly hurry down the length of the table, beelining straight for the soda machine. With my glass fully loaded with the addictive concoction once again, I turn back to the witches’ table, but I only make it a meager three steps before I’m sent sailing through the air, clattering to the floor with a thump .
Glass shatters and orange liquid sprays everywhere as my palms ache from catching my fall and my knees burn from slamming against the floor. My pulse thumps in my ears, panic coating every inch of me, but through the sheer terror ringing in my ears, I hear a familiar voice.
“Maybe you should watch where you're going. You and that fucking silver hair are nothing but a beacon for disaster.”
My cheeks burn and the backs of my eyelids are inflamed with unshed tears as I fight past the pain, both physically and mentally, and tilt my face to the right. Blaze is slouched in his seat, his foot extended in my direction, and his gaze is filled with a raw look of disdain.
How did I not see him there? More than that, how had I given him such an open opportunity to tear me down? Even more than that, why does he feel the need to attack me at all? Especially when it wastes such a valuable drink.
“Why don’t you just fuck off, Blaze, and leave the new Florentines alone?” a guy grunts.
The voice is familiar. I think it might be Asher, the guy who spoke in the class earlier, but I can't bring myself to turn and look at him. Horror and embarrassment already engulf me, tinting my skin crimson from head to toe; I don't need to add anything else to that.
Acutely aware that I’m still on my hands and knees, not helping defuse the situation, I push up and stand, dusting myself off without lifting my chin from my chest. I can hear Blaze and, whom I assume is Asher, grunting back and forth between themselves, but it's impossible to decipher their words over my tight breath as I nearly hyperventilate.
Struggling to draw air into my lungs, the panic grows stronger, and all I can think about is the fact that the entire student body is probably watching my downfall, and I can’t take it. Panic stole my breath like this once before, that I remember at least, but that was when my period started and I thought I was dying. This is something else entirely, and I can't just stand here and let it happen again, not with such a large audience.
My eyes lift, just a fraction, to find Terence frowning at me from his seat beside Blaze, while Sian looks down at her lap. It's the final push of the knife wedged between my ribcage, making black spots form in my vision, but before I collapse in a heap, I take off, running without a backward glance. I make my way through the few students standing between me and the door, and once I'm out in the corridor, I don't slow my pace. I keep going until I reach outside and the fresh air wraps around me. Even then, I struggle to slow down, my heart wrestling in my chest as I seek some form of shelter from the storm that’s following me like a dark cloud fixed above my head.
I cut across the manicured lawn and through the trees that frame the edges before I stumble to a stop. What looks like a little maze made out of cropped hedges and arched vines sits nestled among the trees. A piece of serenity among the madness that ripples through the campus. I step through the arched vines without a second thought. I have no idea where I’m going, but I find my breathing calming, just a little, as I stumble to a stop at the center. Planting my hands on my knees, I keel over, praying the nausea subsides as I slowly start to catch my breath.
I know I’m gaining control when I can take in more detailed notes of my settings. I focus on that, letting my surroundings bring me back to reality. The shrubs stand about waist high, trimmed to perfection, with pretty pink flowers dotted through them. The ground beneath me is perfectly manicured, just like everywhere else, and the arched vines are laced with large white flowers that attract bees.
Pursing my lips, I attempt to stand tall and plant my hands on my hips, but I fail miserably and slump back down, my entire body giving out as I find myself flat on my back, the cropped grass tickling along my skin.
Looking up at the sky, the sun is muted by the full trees looming above, but watching them gently sway in the breeze seems to calm the fire roaring inside me. With every controlled breath, I start to feel the rest of my body come back to life, the numbness slowly seeping from my bones. With a pinch of clarity, as the flames slow their coiling through my veins, I settle on the emotions taking hold.
Panic.
Anxiety.
Get yourself together, Polaris. Get yourself together.
It doesn't matter what other people can do. They won’t hurt me, not in any way that matters. I can survive stupid shit like this. I can survive Sian and Terence pretending I don’t exist. I can survive no one speaking to me forever, Bryony included, because I’m sure it’ll come to that after she sees the drama unraveling around me. But it doesn’t matter; I can survive it all because I have to focus all of my energy on surviving the blood kin curse.
The pep talk seems to ease some of the tension that still lingers inside me, when a voice sounds in the near distance, causing me to freeze. It takes a second, but I quickly realize it's not me that they're speaking to. The air grows quiet again, and I consider peeking to see if they’ve left or not, when their raspy voice cuts through the air again.
“I know, I know. I'm just…today is the anniversary, okay? It's hard.” I can feel the pain in his words and I hold my breath, scared to breathe and draw attention to myself. “I know you care,” he continues, but the sigh that escapes his lungs ripples through the air. “I do. For sure. I will come and see you guys, I will, it's just…it's a lot right now. No…I know. I know. I get what you're saying, but—are you even listening to me, or are you just allowing me to speak as you wait your turn to carry on getting your point across like what I’m saying doesn’t matter?”
My eyebrows gather as I listen, acutely aware that I'm eavesdropping on a conversation that has nothing to do with me, but it's intriguing, nonetheless. The way he’s trying to stand up for himself, even if he’s failing, is inspiring. I need to take a page out of his book.
Pressing up onto my elbows, my gaze follows the direction of his voice, and I find a guy with his back to me, pacing in front of the arched vines. His head is dipped, his fingers pressing along the bridge of his nose as he seems to be struggling with something.
“I’m not going. I can't be there today. Tomorrow. I'll try tomorrow.” He tilts his head back, looking up at the sky, defeat clinging to his features.
I can see him easily from here now.
Long brown hair is secured in a bun at the back of his head, with the sides shaved short. Deep brown eyes stare off into the distance as he stands tall, pain palpable in the air around him.
“Fine. I'll be there today,” he grunts before ending the call, letting the cell phone fall to the ground with a thump, and I suddenly feel like I'm seeing a glimpse of his vulnerability that nobody should be witnessing right now.
Lowering myself back down, I press myself into the ground, trying to hide my presence as I hear him curse under his breath before the sound of a punch crushing against a hard surface, likely a tree, fills the space around us.
He exhales heavily, and a part of me wants to jump to my feet and comfort him, but something tells me that wouldn't be taken too well. Whoever he is, he doesn't look like a witch. Not from who I’ve seen at my table, and any approach from me is probably going to make the situation worse. I’m already covered in orange soda, my pride tarnished; I don’t need this guy getting angry at me, too.
Instead, I beg for the ground to open up, but his voice cuts through the air, confirming I’m still where I shouldn’t be.
“You can come out now. You're not exactly doing the best job at hiding.”
My spine stiffens. This time, I know those words are for me, but I can't convince myself to move an inch.
Plastered to the ground, I hold my breath, willing him to leave, but he doesn’t seem to take the hint.
“Is eavesdropping a habit of yours, or should I count myself lucky?” he asks. There doesn't seem to be any disappointment in his tone, just a sense of defeat and reluctance. Yet I still don't move.
I brace for impact, ready for him to charge over here and make a complete mockery of me, but to my surprise, he sighs, and the sound of his footsteps disappearing in the distance is all I hear.
I have no idea what that was, but I've already got enough of my own drama going on. I don't need to concern myself with anything else right now. I don’t have a savior complex; I’m too selfishly trying to escape my own troubles to worry about someone else.
I just need to survive today, then I can figure out how to survive tomorrow. And eventually I need to figure out how I’m going to face the blood kin curse.