I got really excited and finished the first chapter! So here it is: the first official chapter of Take Wing. Now there's going to be a bit of a pause while I edit the second chapter. (Authors, you know how there's that one character that always worms their way in to your story? That character is Kelsey. She was barely supposed to be in the story at all, and now she's shown up in the first chapter. So now i have to do some editing in the second to account for that.)

~~~

Chapter 1

And the prince and the princess lived happily ever after. The End.

I sigh happily and close the book of fairy tales. I’ve always liked them. Fairy tales always end well-- even if my story doesn’t.

Case in point: middle school gym class.

I’ve been “excused” from “physical activity” because I’m, apparently, “malnourished”. That’s a fancy way of saying that all the rich parents of the rich kids at the oh-so-fancy Northbrook Academy don’t want me messing up their kids’ PE class.

I’m the charity case here at Northbrook, picked up out of the orphanage a year and a half ago. I’ve been here ever since. They want me here to show how “kind” and “generous” they are, by allowing a nobody like me to have an education as good as people like them.

Or so I’m told, only about, oh, one million or so times a day.

“Hey, charity case!” one of the other students calls as a ball rolls to a stop on the floor beside me. “Throw back the ball!”

I roll my eyes, and for a second I consider ignoring him, just out of spite.

“Fine,” I call back, and kick it vaguely in his direction. It lands at the feet of the most popular girl in the school, Shaina Wintermere. She cringes back.

“Eww! I don’t want to touch it now! The charity case touched it!” she shrieks. The class laughs, and some shoot me dirty looks-- apparently just for existing.

Shaina’s boyfriend, Justin Glendale, runs over to her.

“Kick it here,” he says, holding out his hands to catch it. The students are playing some sort of game that involves both kicking and catching.

Shaina half-heartedly nudges the ball with her toe, and he picks it up.

Justin nods at me. “Thanks,” he says, then runs back into the thick of the game.

I think the humid gym air must have muddled my malnourished brain. The most popular boy in school can’t have just looked at me, much less thanked me. I decide it’s a hallucination brought on by too many fairy tales.

By the time gym ends, I have re-read half the book of fairy tales, and the ball hasn’t rolled back over here once. When the bell rings and all the students pour out the door of the locker room, I stand up and stretch. My academy uniform-- a black pleated skirt, white collared top, and a blue tie-- is slightly too large for me, and it’s gotten all wrinkled from the folded position I’ve been in the last few hours.

I hear Shaina and her followers snicker as they pass me, their perfectly-fitting uniforms looking like they just came out of the bag. I tug self-consciously at my own uniform.

As I’m leaving the gym after the other kids, a hand lands on my shoulder. I whip around. It’s… Justin?

He falters when he sees my angry expression. That anger isn’t directed at him, exactly-- more like at Northbrook as a whole.

“I just wanted… to… um, to thank you, I guess,” he says, hesitating. “For, um, kicking that ball towards me.”

I snort. “You make it sound like some life-changing event. I kicked a ball. End of story. You’re welcome.”

Justin nods. “And, um…” Now he seems just flat-out uncomfortable. I raise an eyebrow.

“I’m sorry, I don’t think I know your name,” he blurts out, then stares at his shoes.

I shrug. “Charity case. That’s what all of you call me, isn’t it?”

I start walking away. I’ll be late if I stay talking much longer.

“I’m sorry about that,” he says, and I turn slightly over my shoulder.

“What?” I ask.

Justin looks up from his inspection of his shoes to meet my eyes. He takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry for calling you a charity case all this time. It was really mean.”

He sticks out his hand. “Justin,” he says.

“I know,” I say. “Zoey.”

Then I turn and walk away, to Ms. Muiller’s English-Language Arts class.

✧✧✧

At the end of the day, I walk out of the school building and down the worn gravel path to the girl’s dormitories. I think about my day. Other than Justin after 5th period gym class, no one has spoken to me at all today. And when I answer a question in class and the other students look to see who’s speaking, they stare right at a point over my right shoulder. I don’t even know how they all manage to do that. I mean, is there a telepathic message that I missed? Only stare at the charity case’s right shoulder? Or is there some creature sitting there that only snobby rich kids can see? Oh, lookie there, it’s a Schnordelheide, on the charity case’s shoulder! It’s much more interesting than the charity case! Let’s all stare at the Schnordelheide!

I’m pulled out of my reverie by a loose stone in the path, which I promptly trip over.

“Ouch,” I mutter.

Giggles emerge from the woods beyond the path. Supposedly, there’s a stream in there, which gives Northbrook its name. Many have searched for it, but none have found it. It’s become a bit of a dormitory legend, at least from what I can tell, listening to the other girls whisper once they think I’m asleep.

“Who’s there?” I call into the dark woods.

More giggles.

I sigh. It’s probably just a group of girls trying to make fun of me, or maybe some students having a party with stolen food and drink.

Either way, I forge onward on the path, and after what seems like forever, I reach the dorms. The dorms are three big brick buildings, each with a Greek letter on the front: Alpha, Delta, and Gamma. I stay in Delta dorm. It’s in the worst repair of the three, with crumbling brick walls, faded and chipped white accents, and a door that creaks whenever you open it. Still, it’s better than an alleyway or the orphanage. Unlike the orphanage, it has a more-or-less working heating and cooling system, and unlike an alleyway, it has a more-or-less solid roof.

Delta dorm is populated with the dregs of the rich kids-- the girls that aren’t quite as rich as the others, or that have ticked the richer kids off in one way or another. Supposedly, the Head of School, Mrs. Tryst, makes “random selections” when placing the enrolled kids in dorms. But always, somehow, the popular kids, like Shaina, end up in Alpha dorm, which has two flat screen TVs, a game console, and more beautifully furnished bathrooms than I can count.

I guess, with enough money, you can do anything you want.

I push open the aforementioned creaky door with the crookedly-hanging delta symbol. Once inside, I head straight towards the stairs, quickly passing the other rooms full of laughing and fun-having girls. I don’t want to talk to them, and the feeling is certainly reciprocated. Nobody even notices as I slip up the stairs into the small room I share with four other girls, named-- I couldn’t make this up-- Macie, Casie, Lacy, and Tracey. I don’t know how they tell each other apart. I certainly can’t. I just call them the “C Squad” in my head. They’re always wearing identical high, flippant ponytails, and their school uniforms are always just a little too tight around their busts.

Luckily for me, the C Squad isn’t here right now-- they’re probably visiting friends in other dorms or something. The four girls have squashed their beds, plus matching pink and orange bedspreads, onto the wall opposite my bed. I suppose they, like everyone else, wants to stay as far away from the charity case as possible.

I flop down onto my own black-and-blue bedspread and sigh. The book of fairy tales I finished today was my last one. I’ll have to run by the library tomorrow after class and pick up a few new ones. Even though I don’t have an official library card, the librarian always lets me borrow books from her.

“Just remember to return them,” she always says with a wink.

I absent-mindedly rub the toe I stubbed on the loose rock in the path. It doesn’t hurt, exactly; more like it’s irritated at me.

Join the club, I say to it mentally, then frown. I don’t think I have enough social interaction if I’ve taken up talking to my toes.

Just then, the C Squad flounces in the door, laughing and talking to each other.

“So what did he do next?” one of them-- Casie? Tracey?-- asks.

Another member-- Macie? Lacy?-- sees me and falters. “I’ll tell you later,” she says.

The rest of the C Squad sees me then, too, and they fall silent as well, only occasionally whispering to each other as they gather up the hair supplies scattered across the room. One of them-- Tracey? Lacy?-- actually flinches as I roll over on my bed to face the wall.

The C Squad finds what they’re looking for and silently shuffles out, their happy conversations resuming after they’re in the hall. I know they just didn’t want me to hear. This should sting, but it doesn’t. Not after a year and a half of it.

I roll back over on my bed and stare at their beds, a fierce wave of hatred washing over me. How dare they laugh, and talk, and have fun while I’m here, in the corner, alone? How dare they leave me out! I mean, it’s not like I’m invisible, right? I’m here, I’m a human, and whatever Shaina says, I’m not any dirtier or any cleaner than these stupid, foolish, rich kids jerks!

I glare at the C Squad’s beds so hard my eyes begin to hurt. I hate them so much. I hate their perfect ponytails, their matching blue eyes, everything.

I thought I was over my emotions, after a year and a half of being ridiculed. Of being ignored. Of letting people treat me like a piece of trash so often that I began to believe it myself.

All I can see is red and black.

Red like rage and blood.

Black like death and bones.

Red.

Black.

Red.

Black.

REDRAGEBLOODBLACKDEATHBONESREDRAGEBLOODBLACKDEATHBONES.

A thought occurs to me through my red and black rage haze. Not all of the red and black I’m seeing is just in my mind. A corner of one of the C Squad’s beds is starting to turn black, like ink soaking up the fabric.

I almost don’t want it to stop. I’m so furious, so angry, so tired of being ignored, that I want that inky black to soak up all the orangey pink of the bedspreads.

A wave of fear washes over me. What am I doing? How am I doing this?

I try and stop the wash of red and black in my vision, but it’s like my rage has taken over.

All my mind can think is REDRAGEBLOODBLACKDEATHBONESREDRAGEBLOODBLACKDEATHBONES.

“Stop it,” I say aloud, desperately. The inky blackness continues to spread, and the red and black continues to pulse in my vision.

I close my eyes, but the colors remain. Stop it, I think as fiercely as I can.

REDRAGEBLOODBLACKDEATHBONES, echoes my mind.

Stop it, I think again, directing it at the back of my mind, where the source of the red-black haze lingers. Stop it right now.

The furious thoughts don’t abate in the slightest. I squeeze my eyes shut and focus on taking deep breaths, trying to calm the storm inside of me.

No change.

A wave of fear, stronger this time, washes over me again. The inky blackness creeping over the bedspread slows, and finally stops as my fear grows.

I take a deep breath, then another, and another. The tide of black on the C Squad’s bedspreads starts to retreat back to whatever depths it came from.  

“Go,” I say angrily. “Just go.”

“Do you mean me?” a voice says from the doorway, and I flip my head back to see an upside-down girl, leaning against the doorframe, with a suitcase in one hand and a backpack slung over the other shoulder.

She’s not actually upside-down-- it’s the angle I’m looking at her. I sit up to get a better look at her. She has straight reddish-brown hair that’s pulled back into a messy ponytail, and she’s wearing a gray sweatshirt and skinny blue jeans. Her face is dotted with freckles, and her hazel eyes peer at me curiously.

I realize I’ve been staring at her for a while now. I clear my throat.

“Um, no, I don’t mean you. I was, just, um, well…”

The girl raises and eyebrow, a skill I’m rather fond of. I didn’t realize it looked that epic, though. I think I’ll start using it more often.

“Talking to yourself? Or maybe your inner demons? Something like that?” she finishes.

“Something like that,” I agree. There’s no way I’m going to tell a girl I just met what happened. I don’t even know what happened, anyway.

The girl sticks out a hand, the nails painted with a teal polish.

“Kelsey,” she says. “Kelsey Cooper.”

I hesitantly shake her hand. “Zoey.” I say, waiting for the inevitable question.

The girl raises her eyebrow again. “Zoey…”

I shake my head. “Just Zoey.”

The girl-- Kelsey-- nods, but still looks confused. I don’t feel like explaining how I was picked up off the streets, or how I don’t know who my parents are.

There’s an awkward silence. Then Kelsey breaks it.

“Well,” she says, “I’m Kelsey, but you already knew that, because, I mean, I just told you that.”

This time, it’s my turn to raise an eyebrow.

“I’m new here,” Kelsey continues. “I just moved here from New Jersey. Before that I lived in Missouri, and before that was Washington, and even before that was Kentucky. Before all of that, though, I was born in Wisconsin.”

I nod, not finding anything to comment on.

Kelsey goes on. “I was told to find Room 13 in Delta Dorm. This is it, right?”

I nod once again, and spread my arms.

“My humble abode,” I say magnanimously, needing to say something after all the head-nodding and eyebrow-raising. And if I was going to say something, why not make it dramatic?

“Who else sleeps here?” Kelsey asks, spying the other four beds on that far wall. I cross my fingers and hope that she doesn’t notice the small blot of black that still remains on one of the C Squad’s beds.

“Tracey, Casie, Lacy, and Macie,” I say, and Kelsey bursts out laughing. Her laugh sounds like a mix between a dolphin and a witch. It’s strangely compelling, though, and I feel like laughing myself.

“You have got to be kidding me,” Kelsey says, her laughter dying down but a sunny smile remaining.

“Nope,” I say, my own lips stretching to match her grin. “Those are actually their names.”

“How do you tell them apart?” she asks, and I shrug.

“I don’t,” I reply. “I just call them the C Squad.”

Kelsey laughs again.

“The C Squad,” she repeats. “I like that.”

Of course, the C Squad chooses this moment to approach the door.

One of them-- Macie wrinkles her nose.

“Why are you blocking the door to our room?” she says.

Kelsey quickly steps aside, into the room, dragging her suitcase behind her.

“Oops, sorry,” she says as the C Squad brushes past her. They flop on their beds and immediately whip out their phones and start typing.

Kelsey rolls her eyes at me. I shrug. This is what they’re like all the time.

Kelsey rolls her suitcase over beside my bed and snaps the handle down. The sharp sound causes the C Squad to look up from their texting.

“Well,” Kelsey says, clearing her throat, “I’m Kelsey.”

The C Squad looks her up and down, and their noses wrinkle more. They go back to their texting.

Kelsey clears her throat again, and the C Squad looks up again, this time in annoyance.

“Who are you guys?” Kelsey prods.

The one on the far left sighs dramatically.

“Tracey,” she says, flipping her blonde hair over her shoulder.

“Macie,” echoes the one on the bed to Tracey’s left.

“Lacy,” says the girl to Macie’s left, and the one remaining girl says, “Casie.”

I note that although their overall appearances are the same, they have subtle differences. Casie, for example, has a small smattering of freckles across her nose. Macie has hazel eyes, while Lacy has clear blue ones. And Tracey’s hair is straighter than the others’.

Then, in unison, they all go back to texting-- a clear dismissal.

Kelsey shrugs at me, and I grin back. Suddenly, as Kelsey spreads a blue sleeping bag on the floor next to my bed, Northbrook Academy doesn’t seem so bad after all.

~~~

I would really like some critique on the "REDRAGEBLOODBLACKDEATHBONES" part of it! That part i just couldn't figue out how to write. So anything would be appreciated! Thanks so much for you guys taking the time to read this story!!

~Starseeker 

Me yet again. :) 

I've just added a new part to my book, at the very end. It's a Thank-You page to all those have helped me along the way. I've added all of you who have posted encouragement and critique so far, and whenever someone else posts, I'll add them too!

Thank you guys so much! I can never really say it enough!!!

~Starseeker 

This is brilliant! I can't wait to read more, especially find out why the main character is a 'charity case'.

Can't wait for more! :)

Wow! This is really great! I especially liked the prophecy. In the beginning, it sounded a bit like the dragonet prohecy, but just the first two lines. It was great!