"Come on, Esmé, wake up!" I felt a tickling sensation on my ribs and instinctively swatted at the hand.
"Helen… merde…" I moaned, pulling the blanket up over my head and snuggling deeper into my bed.
"We have class in exactly 30 minutes," Helen said, yanking the blanket away and folding it neatly. I let out a dramatic groan, squinting my eyes in the sunlight. "So you better get ready or Mr. Williams will strangle you to death."
A soft morning breeze brushed my ear, whispering something like, "We need you…", which was kinda lame, if I do say so myself. I let out a long, dramatic sigh and dragged myself to the bathroom door while Helen, being her usual super-organized self, laid out my clothes. She's been doing this ever since she figured out I take ages to get ready for school. Not that it mattered—I don't learn much there anyway.
I stepped into the bathroom and was instantly hit with a nasty smell. I gagged and slammed the door shut. Not my smartest move, since I had to rush back in to brush my teeth.
After that lovely start to the day, I plopped down on a stool while Helen tackled my messy brown hair. Unlike Nan's rough attempts at dragging me awake, her touch was gentle and almost motherly. I squinted at the bright light streaming through the window, trying to make out the buildings and houses outside. Being stuck in the dorm made me feel queasy, but even outside, the world felt so... artificial.
Moments later, my hair was in a loose braid, draping over my shoulder with a few strands hanging down my neck. I glanced at the outfit Helen had picked for me: a white blouse with delicate petals, handmade by my aunt, paired with a pair of leggings, of course, to hide my scarred thighs. Thinking about it, it has been quite a long time since I've done anything like that, so maybe I could start wearing skirts again. I don't know.
I changed quickly, realizing I was running late for my first class. I bolted out the door, then immediately ran back in because I'd forgotten my handbag with all my books. Typical. Finally ready, I stepped outside with Helen right behind me. Helen, already in her
usual getup, a snug wool sweater and a pair of blue jeans, with her dark hair pulled into a sloppy bun. To keep the rest of her hair out of her face, she borrowed my criss-cross headband, though the way she wore it was… definitely unique.
Making our way to class was the hard part–I had to go up a series of stairs before I even reached the classroom. Wheezing, I knocked on the door and looked at Helen.
"What time is it?" I asked.
She yawned and glanced at her phone. "8:55 and… yeah, he's gonna be here any moment now to say how–"
"Late you are, yes," a deep voice boomed as the door creaked open, revealing an old professor with a fuzzy beard. "Ms. Beauregard and Ms. Evans, I trust you have a good reason for being this late?"
Uh… I don't know. Shoot, no, wait, what?
"Mr. uh… Williams, I, and by I, I mean we, are very sorry for our lack of timing, sir." Helen spoke curtly, her posture unwavering while I scooted closer and closer, using her as a shield. With one swift move, she pushed me inside, and all eyes immediately turned towards me. She followed closely, whispering a quick "sorry" in my ear before heading back to her desk while I sat down at mine. She opened her textbook, where she kept all her notes and scribbles including a few doodles of her mother and I.
I rested my chin on the table and yawned. We were in Physics, a subject Helen loved, mostly because it was the only subject she could pass without the need of audiobooks and a tutor. Me? Ha. No. The numbers and equations made my head spin and my inability to read only made it much, much worse.
I was starting to hate the guy who invented Physics. I don't remember his name, but seriously, FRICK THAT GUY AND HIS TORTURE DEVICE! AND MATH! BOTH HELEN AND I DESPISE MATH!
Pushing back my chair, I flipped through some pages, admiring my doodles and erasing the ones that turned out terrible, just to pass the time while Mr. Williams droned on about some guy named Isaac Newton. I couldn't quite figure out why someone would have "newt" in their last name. Maybe his parents got bored of his yapping and named him after an animal to shut him up, though I couldn't blame them; even I was getting pretty fed up with all this talk about temperatures and gravity too. I sat there for what felt like half an hour before something –or someone– caught my eye.
A girl, her eyes sea-green, her hair was long and lustrous, which hung loosely over her shoulder in a delicate swoop. Her beautifully tanned skin was complimented by a simple gold necklace that sparkled with tiny sapphires at her collarbone. She had earrings too—one was a gold hoop with some cool carvings on it. 'Olympus' it wrote in Greek. My brows furrowed and the corner of my mouth drooped into a frown. Even though I didn't know the language and had only heard a few myths, I… somehow understood what it meant. It was surprising, to say the least. It was like how I'm fluent in French, even though Dad is American and Mom… well… it's complicated.
For a moment, I just stared at her. Then her eyes met mine, and I flinched—I hadn't realized she was watching me. We made eye contact for about five seconds before both looking away. She had this very weirded-out expression, and I was left feeling flustered. I heaved a sigh, resting my head on the desk, and just drifted off.
***
"Ms. Beauregard," A stern voice called out, snapping me back to reality. I shot up, letting out the most embarrassing noise ever—a loud, high-pitched squeak.
"Principal's office, Esmé Beauregard," My eyes widened in surprise. That was the first time that man had ever called my full name, which was strange because he had never, and I mean ever, said my full name before under any circumstance, like that time when I tried wood carving for the first time and ended up leaving a hole on my brand new desk.
"How long was I out for? Sorry, mister, but I think my father mistook sleeping pills for my vitamins, sir," I'd done it again. It felt like God had a thing for torturing pretty girls. With every eye on me, I sank lower into my chair.
"And how is that?" He questioned, raising an eyebrow. "If you even skimmed through the student rules before entering, using any drugs without a doctor's notice is strictly forbidden." And if you even skimmed through my entry request, Auntie clearly said that I was dyslexic… I thought groggily, still in a daze, trying to make sense of everything.
Before I could come up with any sort of clever comeback, a voice jumped in and answered for me.
"Um... Mr. Beauregard gave this to me this morning for an emergency and because... uh... the pills were almost identical so it is very easy to mistake one for another, Mr. Williams," said the girl who'd caught me staring like a total idiot. Maybe I could call her Blue, y'know, since everything she had seemed to be blue—her shirt, jeans, highlights, earrings. "My mother was pretty good friends with Mr. Beauregard, sir, and so he trusted me."
"Hmm… I'll let it slide just for today," He said after a moment of consideration, and continued to clean off the dust from his monocle. As soon as he finished, the bell rang. I grabbed my stuff and hurried out, but then stopped and waited for Helen.
"That was... brave, all those lies," I muttered as Blue walked past me. She glanced at me with wide eyes, then broke into a grin.
"Thanks, it's kind of my specialty," she joked. Noticing my puzzled look, she quickly added, "I mean, I'm good at lying when it's necessary, but that doesn't make me dishonest. Actually, I'm really honest. Anyway, I'm Christal. And you're… Esmé, right? Esmé Beauregard."
I opened my mouth to respond when a hand landed on my shoulder, making me jump. "She's not lying. Lying makes our body give off a physical reaction, and she doesn't have that," Helen hasn't moved an inch, with a ball-point pen still in hand and a slight smile on her lips. "Probably."
"So... friends?" I asked, hugging my books to my chest. I flashed her my patented if-you-don't-accept-my-generous-offer-I'll-just-bug-you-for-the-rest-of-your-life grin. It's not that I'm naive or anything; I knew what I was doing. Friends like this are just tools, tools needed for the sake of your sanity. I knew the feeling all too well with all the breakups I've gone through; after all, the only real friends I have are my Auntie Camilla and Helen.
"Sure, I… guess," Christal said, then shook her head like she was trying to clear a daze. "Whoa, that was weird."
"Christy?" Oh no, not this again. When was the last time I used it? I couldn't remember, but might as well give it a shot. "You are my friend now."
"I… am… your friend… now."
"Great. Now, let's go, He…"
It was at this moment, I felt something warm on my back and I whirled around, meeting Helen in the eye. I gasped and my new friend's breath was heavy on my neck as she peeked over my shoulder. Helen Evans was glowing.