Chapter 6 #2
When we heard the Blake family was taking on an orphan from the hibernal coven, we couldn’t believe it.
Harrison was convinced Margot was lying.
I didn’t doubt her at first. Her family are the nicest people I’ve ever met.
Mama Blake organizes most of the school’s fundraisers.
Papa Blake runs a free groundball club for families with no money.
And Margot makes it her personal responsibility that everyone in our class feels included.
To me, it made sense the Blake family was helping out an orphan. I had assumed it was a baby. At the very least, a normal kid whose parents died in an accident or something.
Not…her.
Harrison crowds against me, until I’m squished between him and the tree. I have to shove him away to lean around it, to catch sight of the new girl again. She’s standing all by herself near the swing set, the hem of her dress clenched in both fists.
I’ve never seen a Dark One before. They usually aren’t integrated into society after they’re discovered. They’re usually imprisoned or killed. But they’re not usually little girls with wide, innocent eyes either.
“I asked my mama,” Harrison whispers, glancing over at me. His white-blond hair is a wild mess, as if he forgot to brush it this morning. “It’s true, Elliot. She killed her parents.”
“No way,” I say. I peer farther around the tree. The girl seems way too little to be dangerous. She’s only a year younger, but she looks so much smaller. She’s short and skinny. But she’s wearing all black, and when she rocks back on her heels, I catch a glimpse of gold bands beneath her sleeves.
“I wouldn’t lie,” he says. He turns toward me, nose scrunching. “You don’t believe me?”
“She’s just…” I trail off, unsure what I planned to say.
“She killed them both,” he says. “Only a few months old. Exploded their brains.”
“She did not.”
“She did!” Harrison punches my shoulder. “Serious, Elliot. The first family that tried adopting her brought her right back. The second, some nice old hag? She killed her too. She’s been at the orphanage for years, and for some crazy reason, Mama Blake picked her.”
I don’t respond this time. I’m too scared my voice will break, and I don’t want him to know I’m afraid. It takes all my effort to keep my knees from shaking.
She’s killed three people? She’s younger than we are. Only eleven. Why would she…
“There’s Margot,” Harrison says.
Harrison has been dating Margot for all of two weeks, but he’s already annoyingly obsessed. He ditched me twice during lunch this week to hang out with her. Like I said though, she’s nice. Harrison could certainly pick worse company, even if I don’t know why he wants a girlfriend at all.
Seems more fun to play groundball or practice spells or do literally anything else.
Margot glides across the playground, waving ecstatically to the little girl in black. She told us her name—I’m sure of it—but I can’t remember it now. They look as polar opposite as physically possible.
Margot wears a pale yellow jumpsuit, her blonde hair twisted into matching braids. A sparkly orange bow fastens the end of each, glinting with the sun’s sharp reflection. The new girl wears baggy black clothes, and her long brown hair is loose. Unkempt. She looks…sad.
I wonder if she feels bad for killing all those people.
Slapping my shoulder for the millionth time—I’m sure I’ll have a permanent bruise, even when I’m a grown up—Harrison takes off in the girls’ direction. I follow after him. I don’t bother asking if he’d rather play with the other boys. I already know the answer.
By the time I reach them, Harrison is standing in front of Margot, like he’s her personal shield. The girl in black has stumbled several steps away, arms now hugging her middle.
“Stop, Harrison,” Margot hisses. “You’re scaring her.”
“Good,” he says. He bares his teeth at the girl, and she again stumbles back. “Don’t even think about hurting Margot, you freak.”
I suck in a breath. Harrison’s always been a little bossy, a little “aggressive”, according to Mama. But he’s never been mean. I’ve never heard him call someone a name before.
I grab his shoulder rather than saying anything. When he looks back to me, his expression instantly shifts from one of hatred to determination.
“She needs to understand,” he tells me.
I stare at him, widening my eyes, silently willing him to read my mind. He should know better than to pick on a literal murderer. She killed grown ups when she was a baby…who knows what she could do to us now. Golden bands or not.
“You don’t touch Margot, you understand?” he asks, shifting back to the girl. “If you do, I’ll know, and I’ll kill you.”
“Harrison!” Margot shrieks. She’s crying, which isn’t unusual for Margot. Just about everything makes her cry. But for the first time, I feel like crying with her. A nasty knot ties in my stomach.
“This is for your own good,” he spits back at her. He steps for the girl, whose brown eyes widen. She mimics his movement, only adding distance when he’s taking it away.
“C’mon, Harrison,” I say.
“Say it, freak,” he says to the girl, ignoring my hand on his shoulder. Ignoring Margot tugging on his opposite arm. “Say it!”
“I won’t touch her,” she says. She’s not crying, but her lower lip trembles, like it’s taking everything not to.
“Good,” he snaps. Then, turning back to Margot, he says, “We need to talk.”
“Yes, we do,” she agrees. Her face is red, but her tears have stopped. Now, her terror has transformed into fury. “Not here. Follow me.”
Without waiting for him, Margot storms off in the opposite direction, back toward the school. I glance past her, scanning the playground for our teacher. Mrs. Raekes isn’t anywhere to be seen. There are other kids though, all watching this interaction unfold.
“I mean it,” Harrison says.
I’ve barely turned back to them when he pushes her. She stumbles backward, not even attempting to catch herself as she falls into the dirt.
“Harrison!” I yell.
But he’s already moving. He’s taken off after Margot, leaving the girl sprawled out on her back.
I stare at her longer than I probably should. She’s blinking up at the sky, hands fidgeting, but otherwise unmoving. I keep waiting for her to get up, but she doesn’t.
I shift on my feet. This girl is dangerous. So dangerous Harrison is terrified of her. I could see it in his eyes. Between the fury and the determination, beneath all the hatred. He is scared of this girl and what she’s capable of.
I should run like he did.
Instead, I step forward. One. Two. Three. Until I’m standing beside her. My body casts a shadow over her, but she doesn’t look at me. She just keeps blinking up at the sky.
“Here,” I say. I shove my hand toward her, and the girl flinches. Those wide eyes find mine, looking far more terrified than any natural-born killer’s should.
I stare at her.
She stares at my hand.
The seconds tick by, until I’m shifting on my feet again.
“Look,” I say. “Just take it. I’m not going to push you or anything.”
She still stares.
With my arm extended toward her, I glance around again.
Everyone is watching. The eleven and twelve years are all out here.
It isn’t only Mrs. Raekes’ class. There are dozens of kids, all watching me get rejected by our newest, unwelcome addition.
The only people I don’t see—thank the Mother—are Harrison and Margot.
The last thing I need is Harrison pestering me about this for the rest of my life.
“Come on,” I say. I lean closer, feeling the edges of my ears heat with embarrassment. “Just take it. Don’t be stubborn. I’m trying to help you.”
“I’m not stubborn. I’m smart,” she says. She pushes onto her elbows, then climbs to her feet. She brushes off her dress, sending bouts of dust into the air. “Get shoved into the dirt enough times, and you will be too.”
“I already said I wasn’t—”
“People lie, Elliot,” she says. I raise my eyebrows, surprised she already knows my name. As if she’s caught her mistake at the same time, a faint blush crawls over her cheeks.
Murderers shouldn’t blush.
“People lie all the time,” she repeats. “Getting shoved into the dirt teaches you all sorts of lessons.”
My mouth feels dry. I want to ask why she’s always getting shoved in the dirt. I want to know if she meant to kill all those people. I want to tell her I really wasn’t going to shove her into the dirt. I wasn’t lying.
The girl turns. The back of her black dress is still covered in dust. She storms off, not toward the other kids, but toward the tree I’d just used as a hiding place. It’s a solitary willow, rumored to be haunted. Harrison and I never believed it.
“Haunted,” I say. When the girl turns back, a scowl on her face, I struggle to elaborate. “The tree. Some people think it’s haunted. So, uh, be careful.”
“Don’t you know?” she asks. “I’m haunted too.”
With that, she storms across the field, arms stiff at her sides. It isn’t until she’s reached the tree, until she’s curled up beneath it, that I realize I still don’t know her name. And now, inexplicably, I want to.