Wolf Sirens: Forbidden: Discover The Legend (2 page)

The heavens opened up as if to welcome me. My
first day, as I awaited my timetable in the school
foyer, I saw her picture. A news clipping that read:
‘Dolphins first’ was stuck next to it on the encased
school notice board. Shade Public High boasted a
football team and some sort of school dance troupe,
signs of the small town life that was meant to nurture
me.

I saw the outline of my own wet hair and morose
reflection in the glass as I looked over the collage.
The girl in the centre of the photo was pretty and
unusual-looking at the same time, with almond eyes
and the hugest grin on her face. I thought I might see
her here in the halls.
My wet sneakers squeaked on the linoleum floor
as I counted the numbers of the doors and listened
to the murmurs of studying children reverberating through the cracks in the doors. I looked at the
timetable in my hand under a flickering fluorescent
light - Geography 107b - and put it in my pocket, my
palms clammy.
The class was full. I tensed, avoiding the rows of
inquisitive stares, and a woman with narrow, uneven
blue eyes and dark hair shook my hand as she continued her address to the class and pointed to the board,
which read Mrs Bealy, Geography. I was expected.
The teacher asked no questions as she handed me a
printout and gestured towards a seat in the first row,
which hadn’t been taken.
Gladly, I ducked into my chair, as though my
presence wouldn’t be noticed. I slid down in my seat
as the teacher continued her lecture, and felt stares
come at me from all angles. There was some commotion up the back of the class, which I wasn’t brave
enough to glance at. Muffled laugher, which was obviously at someone’s expense. Mrs Bealy continued
to speak, ignoring the commotion. I kept my head
down and pretended to be paying attention to her
speech about the Italian Alps. Listening to the fussy
short movements of bored teenagers, my muscles
tensed and my heart began to palpitate. Steadying my
breathing I tried to occupy myself by taking notes. It
wasn’t until halfway through class that I dared peer
around at my new classmates, risking eye contact. To
my far right in the second row was a pretty blonde
girl with a ponytail. She was in a short skirt, dark
blue, which could have been a sports uniform under her white cardigan, I couldn’t quite tell. She was
wearing lipstick in a deep berry shade, something my
mother would criticize me for daring to wear. The
other two girls either side of her were equally as angelic and toned: a redhead with a straight fringe and
a curly-haired girl with a pointy nose, and I knew
better than to think they wouldn’t have at least been
acquaintances. I assumed all this before consciously
noting the fact that they were wearing identical navy
skirts.
The more I glanced at them, the more flawless they seemed. All three looked athletic and neat.
More than neat: perfect. Their skin glowed pale iridescent, bathed in a glow from the window, which
seemed to avoid the other students. They could have
been angels – with manicured eyebrows that framed
unnatural sparkling green and blue eyes. The other
kids seemed like me, casual in comparison, rough
around the edges: baggy clothes, and acne-scarred,
oily-haired with flyaway hairs and the pain and insecurity of puberty written on their faces. I wondered
if I was the only one who noticed them. I tried not
to stare, pulling my eyes away. I looked down at my
grey tracksuit pants and street sneakers and knew in
that moment my dance/street look was just frumpy.
My hair was all split ends and washed-out blonde
highlights. I had gained weight since being grounded
permanently, so baggy sweatpants and a brand name
t-shirt was my uniform. I told Sophie I wasn’t going to make an effort here. I had refused her offer to
purchase the school jacket, glad to not have to wear a
uniform after St Agatha’s. But right then I felt decidedly underdressed.
I had considered that if I was smart maybe I
should try to fit in. It sounded like something Sophie
would have said if she’d had less of an abandoning
parenting style. I was lucky in that way; neither of
my parents cared to look closely at anything I did.
I was acutely aware that was how my mother and I
had ended up here in Shade, and why I reluctantly
accepted my sentence.
I pulled my sleeve over my tattoo, looking ahead
as a stare came from the desk adjacent, from the
most unnaturally bright eyes, belonging to the curlyhaired one. I thought she must have been wearing
contacts.
She looked alarmed as I caught sight of her
raised brow. Not bothering to return the glare, or
not brave enough to, I slouched further in my chair.
My hand instinctively covered my wrist. Judging by
her expression, I assumed right then that I was too
imperfect for these affluent looking country kids. I
wasn’t going to fit in.

How could I know that my innocent presence terrified them far more than they threatened me, or what
I had just triggered? I was what they had feared, what
they had been hoping wouldn’t come. I had no way
of knowing that I had surprised them or what they
had sparked in me, which would soon ignite. I was simultaneously smashed into a thousand pieces inside
and mysteriously, very slowly, began to reform from
within, shard by shard.

The next few days passed in a grey haze, illuminated
only by the penetrating eyes of the aloof clique, with
that same alarmed look on their faces.

The school was surprisingly large for a country
town, but families were big and nearly all the surrounding town’s teenage population attended the
public high in Shade Valley. I was an outsider, an
introvert, and clumsy. Locals didn’t welcome newcomers from the city. The vernacular for me was ‘city
slicker’, ‘tourist’ and my personal favourite: ‘yuppie’.

I fumbled and dropped my math’s workbook
on the linoleum on my way to class. I saw them
again. They had that same look on their faces as
they passed, like I offended their sense of smell.
The darker boy’s amber brown irises glared at me
as they glided past. I flushed crimson as his wideshouldered friend brushed by and looked me over
with his sapphire eyes.

Shrugging off all the icy stares that followed, I
told myself it was just that I was new. Maybe I would
grow on them but I felt like a trespasser and by the
second day I wasn’t being ignored so much as avoided
- by everyone, including the popular clique, who eyed
me apprehensively from across the canteen as they
downed their food.

Lunch hour was spent staring at my sandwich
miserably. The minutes dragged as I became agonizingly self-conscious. I didn’t need to look around to
feel the silence from all directions. I wasn’t a native
inhabitant and I was beginning to feel like a freak. I
failed to relax as I breathed out in relief on the bus
home, unable to shake the agonizing discomfort from
school as I watched the grey sky from my window
seat. When I arrived home, throwing my backpack
off, I wilted onto the floor against one of the cream
walls of our new house, my head in my hands. Every
shuffle was amplified in the shell of a house, scattered
with half emptied boxes. Sophie wasn’t home.

I spent the rest of the late afternoon diligently
unpacking the remainder of our belongings. Trying
not to think about it. I wasn’t paranoid. No other
students had approached me, despite their curious
expressions at lunch and in the halls, though I offered no threat. It was as though a very bad rumour
had been spread about me that everyone at school
believed without question. They gazed at me and I
failed to understand what was written in their indifferent stares.

Over dinner I bravely told my mother how coldly
they were treating me. She gave that expression, that
wince, which told me I was bothering her by merely speaking. This was followed by an evident pause.
Sophie had made some sort of an effort with the dinner laid out before us, which had no doubt exhausted
her. Usually we ate alone or in front of the television
whilst having our faces irradiated by the blue light.
She said it would take time until I found my feet.

Sophie put on her mum voice.
“Lila, you know your father and I need this to
work,” she cautioned with a hard expression. This
was unusual of her. Sophie tended to ignore conflict,
or mentioning my father – but what she really meant
was, that she was at a loss as to what to do with me. I
knew she couldn’t take it if I caused problems here. I
realized my pain wasn’t upsetting to her.
She was pleased she had met a few people at the
Penny Market, the only chain store in town and the
only place that didn’t require experience. She seemed
less drained and more content now that she had rekindled some old acquaintances and she had a job, all
of which was an improvement.

Eager not to be late her first day Sophie dropped
me off too early, under an ashen white sky, near the
school sign that read:
Go Wolves
. I noticed someone
had put graffiti on the road, the words
No Wolves
in white paint, as I travelled over it on foot. The
cold weather made me shiver, though it was less
icy than the day before. There were no messages
on my phone. The grounds were deserted, I felt a
foreboding unease as I sighed and then decided to
go by the school library.

I hesitantly pushed the creaky doors open and
saw that no one was around, as the emerald green
carpet assaulted my eyes.The large two-story interior
smelt faintly of musk. I scanned the bindings of a row
of books below eye level, running my fingers along
the shiny cardboard spines. Reading would soak up
the hours and hopefully fill in the gap where my social life was meant to be. I had discovered what I had
known all along: that there was very little to do in a
small town. Sophie had counted on it, because since
my brother Tim had left home, I had been her biggest problem.

“Hello, dear,” said a voice from nowhere. I turned
see a tall, thin woman in neat attire. When she spoke
only her bottom lip moved. “Can I help you?” She
glared over the rim of her square glasses.

“Oh, well, now June will have to show you
around…were you looking for anything specific?”
“No.” I shook my head and did my best to look
sweet.
“You won’t be able to borrow until you have a
card,” she cautioned sharply.
I nodded, understanding the implication.
“I’ll leave you to look around.” She moved behind
the front desk and my mind was elsewhere when a
larger authoritative woman approached.
“Hello, you’re a new student, are you?” Her
voice went up an octave at the end as though excited by this for my benefit. “I’m June.” She didn’t
wait for more than the beginning of a nod from
me. “This is the fiction section.” She pointed like
an airhostess. After a lecture on the rules, I was
walked to the office behind the counter. I leant in
the doorway as a library card was manufactured for
me on the office laminator.
June talked from behind her desk to me. I gazed
around and something caught my eye behind the
shelves, like an animal rustling in the undergrowth.
I twisted my head to make out the shape of a torso in a blue jumper, visible through cracks in a row
of shelves. I wondered when they had come in.
Obviously I wasn’t the only loser at Shade High in
the library well before morning classes. I could see
her black lace-up army boots through a space in the
shelves, crossed up on a chair.
“Oh.” June seemed to remember something, as
she then shuffled under her desk, awkwardly impeded by her stomach, straining to reach a box. “And
here’s your copy of the year book.” She slapped it triumphantly on her desk.
I forced a smile as I accepted it.
“Every student receives one,” she said with a
reassuring closed-mouth smile. “Do you have any
questions, dear?” She peered over her large glasses.
I shook my head.
“Thanks, that was…good, thank you for the
card.” I waved it in my hand and backed away. This
wasn’t the sort of interaction I had craved.
As I briskly pushed through the door a peripheral
glance took in a view of the golden hair belonging
to the blue jumper and black boots hiding behind
the shelves, absorbed in her reading. Maybe I sensed
something different about her in that brief moment.

The next day I went to the library to get a book for
English, reading in the corner until the bell rang. I
made out the yellow-haired girl in boots up the library stairs on the second floor, but she was out of
clear view.

During the next days I became invisible at
school, which was a relief from the intensity that
had plagued me on arrival. I began to become braver
in my observing glances around the class as I seated
myself next to a small girl with dirty blonde hair and
pale eyebrows. She smiled meekly with watery eyes
and I hoped we could perhaps get along, at least as
lab partners. I wondered momentarily if she was the
blonde girl I’d spied in the library, but her hair was
much too long to be the cropped blonde girl and she
was tanned. My lab partner, Angie, spoke less than
I did. I was beginning to wonder if this was a conspiracy to drive me out with passive resistance.
I spied her at lunch, the library girl, buying cookies
and bottled water and sausage rolls from the canteen. Far too much food for one, she must have been
in a group. I felt disappointment as she strolled by
with purpose. Everyone had at least a few friends,
except me, the new girl. She balanced the packages
of food awkwardly in clumsy-looking fingers, which
on closer inspection as she passed me were gnarled
down. I’d never seen such obviously chewed fingernails, like pink budded stumps, winding awkwardly
around and anchoring the food. She headed out to
the grass area away from the undercover where I sat,
and disappointingly out of my view.

I watched the popular boys I’d seen in the halls,
which must have made up the school football team.
In hindsight I was rather taken by them, as I am sure
was the entire female student body. The tallest one
had short chestnut hair tucked behind his ears and
bright blue eyes which contrasted his caramel skin
and straight white teeth. He was addressed as Harton
and his wing man was a slightly shorter, broader boy
with deep brown skin, high muscular shoulders and
black spiky hair.