Time's Daughter (2 page)

The griping continued even after I’d walked out of
earshot. In the distance I spotted another person trailed by a
camera walking into the entrance. My lips curved slightly.

No, I wasn’t alone in this. Some of the other
choices were going to get harsher reactions than I had.

I eyed the building, considering how it would look
to external audiences. The school had originally been built in the
late eighteen hundreds. Now the original stone and brick structure
held the auditorium, principal’s offices and three floors of
classrooms that were freezing in the winter and sweltering in the
summer thanks to the oversized and badly insulated windows.

Tacked onto the end of the original building was a
new wing that held the gymnasium, art classrooms and two nice new
science labs. Unfortunately
my
first period science class
wasn’t in those labs. It was in a room that made me wish I’d
remembered to wear a sweater because the old windows let in a
serious draft.

I walked around the stone steps that were primarily
for show. The cement sidewalk parallel brought me to a pair of
glass doors. From there it was a quick walk down the broad corridor
toward the center of the building.

Act normal
, the director had said. I think
what he’d meant to say was,
act as you normally would
. That
was only thing that made sense when applied to me.

Normally
I’d meet my group of friends outside
the chemistry room. That’s exactly what I planned on doing.

I turned the corner that would bring me to my first
class. There were four loud gasps. Ashley, the de facto ringleader
of our group, had adopted her most intimidating pose. That
consisted of shoving her left hip out and settling her weight onto
it. I ignored her lifted ginger eyebrow, bug eyes and thinned lips
by focusing on Melissa, the easy-going member I identified with
most.

Melissa was feigning surprise. I hadn’t been able to
keep the news about the documentary from her. The remaining girls,
Jenn and Jenny, both variations of blonde, were in identical states
of gape-mouthed shock that remained until our friend Ryan barreled
around the corner in a speed walk that came to an abrupt halt.

He held his hands up in front of him in mock
surrender. “Holy cameras batman! Who got picked?”

Ashley’s reddened finger pointed at me as I drew up
near the group of girls resting against the pressed cement wall
outside my science class.

Ryan bravely joined us despite the presence of the
camera and his obvious distaste for it. “Aeon?” He pointed a look
at me. “Seriously?”

I nodded mutely, dropping my eyes to the floor.
Being shy didn’t exactly make for great video but that was the
director’s problem. Not mine.

“
That’s gotta suck.” Ryan chuckled—a
sound I thought was slightly nervous.

Did he look as nervous as he seemed?

“
Suck?” Jenny’s eyebrows knit as she
addressed him. “You didn’t try for a part?”

Ryan hook his head—his mop of wild brown hair shook
a second longer than the rest of him. “Nah. I’m too freaky for a
documentary on average kids.”

“
So is she.” Ashley snorted
derisively as if I weren’t standing three feet away. The arms
crossed tightly over her barrel chest further illustrated her
opinion.

Why
did I hang around? A glance at Melissa
reminded me. Melissa enjoyed Ash’s company and for Melissa’s sake I
stomached her. But if the shrew continued insulting me like that,
I’d have to reevaluate how much I was willing to do for that
friendship.

Ryan, Melissa and the Jens scattered at two minutes
until the bell. Ashley stalked past me into the chemistry room. She
then proceeded to ignore my existence despite the fact that I had
the seat directly beside her Amazonian build.

Did she realize the cameraman trailing me would be
filming her as well?

My attention switched to our dull chemistry teacher
at the front of the room. A momentary spark of life came into her
eyes upon finding the cameraman in her classroom. She stared as
though star struck for a moment. She then cleared her throat and
began staring intently at someone in the front row. Clearly she’d
recalled she was supposed to pretend the filmmakers weren’t
there.

The lecture started. I dropped my gaze to the
wide-rule notebook in front of me. Time to start my daylong doodle
session—an activity I hoped would help me avoid seeing the glares
from all around.

Today’s theme was “harpy” in honor of Ashley. I drew
one of the mythological creatures with pale skin, stubby eyelashes
and what would have been flat red hair had I not been drawing in
pencil. The image took shape over the course of the class period.
The bell rang, cutting short the details in the wings. I glanced
over and checked if Ash had noticed my portrait of her. I was
treated to her cold shoulder.

History class and the inevitable pop quiz were next.
In a last ditch effort not to fail, I scanned the bullet points in
the chapter we were supposed to read over the weekend while my
classmates filled in the desks around me. Loud whispers interrupted
my skimming midway through page seventy-two. I glanced back and
discovered a cameraman passing through the door behind an
unfamiliar black-clad guy.

He had neatly cropped short black hair atop a rather
normal sized head. What skin I could see over the heads of the kids
in the back row seemed to be smooth and a nice bronzed color,
perhaps from a summer spent beneath the sun’s rays. But it was the
pair of the most startling steel blue eyes that snagged my
attention for a moment too long.

This must be the new kid because I never would have
forgotten those eyes on any classmate.

I faced forward and concentrated on the book in
front of me. I hadn’t looked at him for long but what I had seen
was enough to note he was handsome. No doubt his good looks
combined with the fact that he was one of the students picked for
the documentary were going to propel him straight into the inner
circle of the popular clique.

“
Take out a piece of paper,” Mr.
Zimmerman said from his position behind the desk up front. “Your
name is worth ten points.”

I scribbled “Aeon Still” next to the heading “Name”
then wrote the numbers one through five down the paper.

“
Question number one: the hundred
years’ war lasted how long?”

It was a trick question. I knew that much but I
didn’t know exactly how long it had lasted. I picked a number
between eighty and ninety and hoped it was close enough.

“
Two: Who were the primary
players?”

I panicked. It had been a bullet point I’d skimmed
minutes ago but I couldn’t for the life of me recall the answer. I
made an educated guess only to find that questions three through
five were similar failures. If I’d learned anything from the pop
quiz it was that I really ought to study more on the weekends.

“
Pass them forward,” Mr. Zimmerman
said and then stepped to the white board. He scrawled notes in
barely legible blue dry-erase streaks.

I turned, taking hold of the stack of quizzes handed
up from behind me.

The new kid…he was seated in my row. That meant one
of the quizzes in my hand had his name on it. I set the papers atop
mine then stealthily peeked at the names. His quiz was on the
bottom of the stack. The name was written in chicken scratch. I
thought it said “Alex Chattan” but with penmanship as awful as his
I couldn’t be certain.

He didn’t really look like an Alex. I’d have pegged
him as a something strong like Troy or Brad.

As we filed out to the corridor after the bell I
considered introducing myself. It would be what a well-adjusted
person would do. But I wasn’t well adjusted.

The new kid lingered near the door studying a piece
of paper held in his bronze fingers. A pair of girls stepped up to
him and boisterously gave their names. The girls gave me the excuse
I needed to avoid introductions. I hurried down the hallway to my
next class without looking back.

* * * *

The
glares from classmates continued into my next two classes. I was
dreading lunch. Ordinarily it was a respite from boring lectures
and something I looked forward to. Today the reprieve meant that
I’d be stuck sitting at the table with a pissed off Ashley Dyall
and a camera zoomed in on the crumbs I dropped on my
shirt.

I lethargically headed to my locker to switch my
books out with the afternoon supplies. Only when I had nothing more
to futz with in my undecorated metal compartment did I make my way
to the lunchroom.

Ash’s mouth clamped shut when she saw me enter the
room. Clearly she’d already been talking about me behind my
back.

I glanced around for other cameramen heralding the
presence of another documentary subject but saw none. Apparently
the other five unfortunate players had lunch during a different
period. My shoulders lowered. I’d been hoping for someone to divide
the attention.

I took my seat beside Melissa and pretended not to
notice the cameraman requesting a spot at a table ahead of me. Once
he was good and settled on the lunch table bench I stood. He
scrambled up, nearly falling on his expensive lens in his pursuit
of me. I tried to hide a smile. Messing with the camera guy could
be an amusing pastime if I were forced to continue with this absurd
gig.

As I stood at the back of the lunchroom paying for
my ham sandwich I saw another cameraman enter the room. The new kid
hovered at the door scanning for a free table. Every eye in the
room was on him. I instantly felt bad for him.

Someone crowded behind me. “Uh, do you mind?”

I shook myself to clear my head and took my change
from the cashier. Food in hand, I started back for our table. As I
walked I forced myself to look at my friends instead of gaping at
the new kid like everyone else.

This time Ashley didn’t clam up when I’d set my tray
down a few spots away from her. I thanked my stars she’d found
something to gossip about that didn’t involve me.

“
He’s cute. Who is it?”

Jenny held a French fry aloft as though caught in
the middle of eating. “Megan Carlisle told me that the sixth person
who got picked for the documentary is a new kid. I guess that’s
him.”

Ashley’s pale eyebrows turned down. “How did Megan
Carlisle know?”

“
Um,” Jenny stumbled briefly beneath
the girl’s glare. “I assume because she’s one of the six. She had a
cameraman with her just like Aeon and that guy.”

“
You’re kidding,” Ashley exclaimed
and tore her gaze away from the newcomer. She leveled a frown at
Jenny. “They really did pick all freaks.”

I wanted badly to insult her back, to stand up for
myself. In the end it wasn’t worth it. I’d never done anything to
merit the abuse. She obviously had issues or she wouldn’t be evil
to me.

“
I heard Tyler and Summer were
picked too,” Jen said.

Ash’s frown darkened. “As in Mr. and Mrs.
Popular?”

“
Yeah,” the Jens said in
chorus.

The de facto ringleader counted off five fingers.
“So Aeon, Megan, Summer, Tyler and this new kid. Who is the
sixth?”

They exchanged looks but it was Jenny who answered.
“No one seems to know.”

Ash snorted derisively. “Probably another
freak.”

I smacked my sandwich atop the mint green plastic
tray. I murmured something in parting to Melissa, ignoring everyone
else. And then I grabbed my stuff before visiting the trashcan.

I’d tolerated as much as I could. If I stayed any
longer I’d say something I’d regret.

I knew who the sixth person was but wild horses
couldn’t have dragged the name from me. Ashley would have laughed
triumphantly if she’d known Kevin Miller—a guy who lived more in
his own fantasy world than the real world—was the sixth person.
She’d find out soon enough with or without my help.

A week was how long the director had said would be
useless film. He’d said no one, including us, would behave normally
until seven days had passed. The newness of the film crews would
wear off by then, he’d claimed. All I had to do was make it through
the week and then things would go back to relative normalcy.

My destination was a spot I’d found on the first day
of my freshmen year when I’d had to escape Ashley’s tale of her
alleged summer in Europe. It was a tree on the far side of the
school that had a soft mound below it and plenty of shade at
midday. The tree was on the edge of the lawn where the
underclassmen weren’t allowed to go. I pulled my notebook out once
I’d settled against the bark. There were some harpy’s wings to
finish and a background to create.

The cameraman failed to stealthily move around me
like I’d been promised. I knew he was trying to get shots of what
was on the notebook as well as my face but it was annoying how
obvious he was being.

Maybe I should stop being such an easy subject.

A glance at my watch showed that I could probably
get into the photography classroom and pick-up a camera for a
little bit of extra shooting time. Being
behind
the lens was
preferable to being in front of it. I closed my notebook, stowed it
in my overflowing backpack and then stood, dusting off my jeans.
Without waiting on the camera guy to get up I headed across the
lawn, through the faculty parking lot and into the building.

Mrs. Lozano—the photography teacher who did triple
duty as the teacher of journalism and printmaking—stood looking up
through a roll of negatives with the assistance of the overhead
light. She merely glanced at me as I passed through the photography
classroom door.

I was sure the photography classroom had once been
basement storage because, well, it was in the basement, and because
it had an odd shape. It wasn’t square or rectangle like my other
classrooms. Instead the space consisted of five smaller squares
that shared at least one open wall or door.