The Hidden Descendants

Chapter Two

Berkley

The weather seems a little off today. Dark and gloomy for a September morning doesn't sound right. I looked around at the sky as I walked and munched on the granola bar I had shoved in my backpack. "What time is it?" I muttered to myself as I pulled my phone out from my pocket. I squeeze the side button, lighting up the cracked screen, because I don't have the funds to afford a new one. I swear if Al woke me up earlier than I needed to be, and pretended that I was running la- "Oh, s**t!" It's seven forty-five already. Yep. I'm going to be late. If I run now, then I might make it to school just as the first bell is sounding off. The key word being might. I don't have high hopes.

I shove the last of the granola in my mouth and grip the straps of my bag tight around me before taking off on a dead sprint.

I yell a slur of 'excuse me's' and empty 'sorry's' at people as I pass by. Praying that I don't completely trample anyone over. I wish I could say this is the first time I've had to do this. Unfortunately, I've been a victim of a dead cell phone on many occasions and have had to make this run several times after not having an alarm to wake up too.

It's not terrible. Running is about the only physical thing I find solace in these days. There is something so freeing about letting your legs run wild beneath you as your lungs pump harder for air. I sound crazy, I know. I've been told that a time or two, because who actually enjoys running? Well, I do. As long as I'm not working at the pub, I normally take a late night run. It frees my mind and allows me to work off some of the pent up energy I carry around all day with no release. At one point, I considered joining the track team. Once I thought better of it, I decided I didn't like people enough to have to spend quality time with them. I would just be taking something that I love to do and make it miserable. It wasn't worth it. Not. At. All.

Rounding the corner of Third Street to cross over Cherry Street, I could finally see the school. I began to slow my pace. People are still outside waiting for the bell to ring. I glanced at my phone again. Seven fifty-six. Sweet, four minutes to spare.

As I walked up the steps to the front doors, I took a look at the sky again. Strange. I don't think the weather was calling for rain, but what do I know? I'm not a meteorologist. However, I could think of a few people that would be able to do the job, and probably well for how much they lie. Like Barb, for instance. Every time the case worker stops over she has an entire slew of them. I scoff to myself just thinking about how she puts on her little innocent face and claims to be such a good person.

After I'm eighteen- which by the way is only in a couple of days- I should turn her in to the states. Make sure they never collect a check again for fostering. I can at least take care of myself. I would never want them to get ahold of a toddler that still depends on someone to take care of them.

I entered the building and headed straight for my locker. Opening it up, I placed my bag inside and took out my single notebook. I could only afford to get one for the start of the year. I had to choose between getting another or buying a new bra since my old one decided to break down on me. It wasn't exactly the most well made boulder-holder. Neither is the one I bought, but it does its job well enough. I don't need comfort, I just need functionality.

Just as I go to shut my locker door, it slams shut with huge force. The force is- a big, built body. Kingston Carver. I give him a glare as he lingers. He's not moving away but he isn't looking at me either. Instead he is looking at his cronies. Able and Jackson. Where one is, the other two must be. It's like they're attached at the hip. Kingston, or should I say "King", has the most fitting name out of everyone I've ever known. He is the 'King'. At least of Valley High, that is. Around here it's like wolves. They run in packs, and if there's a pack, there's an Alpha. King would be their Alpha. I sneer at the trust fund baby who still stands invading my space.

His perfectly white teeth on display as he laughs at Able. His midnight, tousled hair he reaches up to adjust. Sharp jaw line, broad shoulders, flawless sculpted nose. I huff in annoyance at how perfectly made he is. He's attractive, most definitely, but I bet his ego is the size of Texas and has a brain made for a squirrel. An empty head on legs. That's all they ever are, really.

"Excuse me," I snapped.

Instead of moving out of my way or even responding like a normal person. King just glanced over at me but didn't look away immediately after. His eyes were focused on me for a second too long. I sucked in a breath, sharp and stinging. Does he see me? I watch as his eyebrows flicker down before they quickly snap back into place. With a shake of his head, he veers off to meet up with his friends again. Jesus, do these people even know what the word 'sorry' is? Apparently, it's their world and I'm just living in it, unnoticed. See? told you. Invisible.

I slapped my locker with a frustrated groan. I'm edgy today. Off-kilter. I'm moody and more irritated than usual. Like my body has an itch I can't satisfy. I'm not sure what's going on. Any other day and interaction like that with King or one of his minions would have been nothing to me. A small blip on the worry list, maybe not even that. I would have stood there, glared at him and moved about my day. But he looked at me and I felt something tingle inside me. Like I said, the guy is attractive, but that's it. He and I are nothing alike. I would never be someone he goes for. He would never be someone I would be with just for the simple fact he would never be able to understand my world. The places I've been or the things I've had to endure. Sympathizing with someone is not the same as understanding someone. Kingston Black and I have nothing in common. So the fact that I am even bothered in the slightest bit about him 'seeing' me and then not acknowledging me... Yeah, I'm irritated about the fact I'm irritated with the interaction. Did I hope he noticed me? Hoped he talked to me? No, I couldn't be. I shouldn't be.

With a shake of my head, I continued down the long hallway into the English wing. First stop, Mrs, Rhodes class. English Lit. What a drag.

"B! Wait up!" A shout from behind me made me pause.

I spin on the spot and search out the voice, already knowing who it belongs to. Kelsey Hartman. The only person who doesn't consider me invisible. Kelsey's short blonde hair bounces on her shoulders as she runs at a steady pace down the hall to catch up with me. "Jesus, Kels. Slow down."

She slows down when she gets a couple feet away from me. "Well, if you would have waited for me, like we do every morning, I wouldn't be running a 5K to catch up with you." I only responded by rolling my eyes at her. We start our descent to class again. I watch as she hitches a thumb over her shoulder, taking notice of the new shirt she has on. It's nothing name brand, she can't afford that. But it is new. More than I could ever dream of spending on clothing. Most of my stuff comes from the goodwill or my caseworker, which is usually clothes headed to the goodwill anyway. "What was that all about back there?"

I squinted my eyes at her. "What do you mean?"

"That...Interaction?" she ponders, "With Kingston. At your locker." I just stared at her, still trying to figure out her meaning. "The one that just took place?" still blank eyes looking back at her. She waves a hand around in a sigh. "You know what I'm talking about. Him slamming into your locker, him looking at you in awe just before he took off."

I thinned my lips into a narrow line. "He did not look at me in 'awe'."

"Oookay..." She drawled out. "Not from where I was standing..."

"Well then, from where you were standing you didn't see anything, because nothing happened." I snapped. I'm not sure why I'm being so defensive about it. I don't even know why we are having this discussion. Maybe because I'm still irritated about it myself? Either way, I want to move on from it. I said it didn't happen and that is that.