Don't Have A Title YET

         Sephera’s breath whooshed from her body as a blow hit her spine. She spun to face her attacker. The boy dressed in all white, opposite of her attire, and silvery hair fell in front of his eyes. He has two swords in an X across his back and a bright ribbon tied around his head. His bright blue eyes pierced into Sephera’s deep red ones as he crouched low. She mimicked his position and blew her long, pitch-black hair from her face. It flowed down to her hips and she wished as had tied it into a braid before she left the house. Her gun belt felt heavy on her waist and her fingers desired the familiar feeling of the trigger. But she shoved the desire down and reached behind her back to pull her long, thin sword from its case. The boy did the same, pulling out both of his swords. She waited for him, calculating the fairness of the fight. He lunged.

         Sephera quickly blocked his advance and spun around. She stuck at his side but he blocked it as easily as she had. Once again, he attacked, this time with a little more force, but she still blocked it. She kept her expression calm as this pattern continued, neither landing a hit. Then, she was taken by surprise. He lashed out with one sword, which was quickly blocked, but then did the same with his second. It cut her right side, directly under the ribcage, and stung badly. Black blood oozed from the wound. Her gaze snapped back up at the boy, her eyes blazing a fiery red as he danced back a few steps.

         Feeling a roar building up inside her, Sephera fought to keep it contained. She was able to do so until he smirked. The roar echoed through the clearing and the thick forest beyond as her body morphed, changed, shifted. Her arms shortened, her body grew, her neck lengthened, a tail sprouted from her body, and wings extended from her back.

         The boy shook his head, unfazed. “Sephera, the goal of this was to try NOT to shift into your dragon form!” he exclaimed. She blew a breath from her large nostrils as he approached her. She ducked her head down and he softly stroked her scaled neck. Her underside’s scales were a soft gray while her top scaled were a harsh black that tinted purple in the sun. The boy who stood before her, her best friend for the 15 years of her life, Cirrus, could also shift into a dragon. They were the only two. His scales were a rich white that had a gold tint on the edges. Many thought of the two as polar opposites, like Yin and Yang. And yet, we were-and still are-best friends. Ever since about 15 years ago.

         Nobody knows who my parents are, not even me. Now, at age 16, things are slightly different. Cirrus and I learned of our powers the night of our 14^th birthday. Mine was April 10^th while Cirrus’ was December 10^th of the year before. Well, we think that’s my birthday. The day of Cirrus’ first birthday was when they found me, and his mother told me I looked to be about 6 months old. Thus, my birth date was born. Cirrus and I always found it ironic that my half birthday is his birthday, and vice versa.

         Cirrus’ doorbell rang through his house, and his mother was forced to turn her attention from the year-old boy so she could answer the door. When the wooden door creaked open, nobody was to be seen. Sheltered from the light rain by the porch roof, Cirrus’ mother stepped out of the doorway. A light cry came from the ground in front of her feet, and her gaze shot down to see a small baby-maybe half a year old. Her face softened as the child, even though quite young, cried out for its mother. The nearly crying woman leaned down, picking up the small being. The baby girl had soft black waves of hair and pale, flawless skin. Tears threatened to leak out of her dark, obsidian eyes and her rosy bottom lip trembled.

         Cirrus’ mother looked around, searching once again for whoever left the baby girl on her porch. There wasn’t a trace of anyone. As she cooed to the girl in her arms, she turned and entered the house. Her year old son, Cirrus, was standing curiously in the living room and his eyes brightened when he saw the small girl in his mother’s arms. He immediately rushed to his mother, nearly tripping over himself in the process. The girl’s eyes were on him as well, the same spark lighting them as Cirrus’.

         Cirrus wouldn’t allow his mother to put little me up for adoption. They took me in, raised me, and Cirrus’ father worked double time so his wife could take a break from work. I felt bad about making this happen starting around age eleven, but they reassured me so many times that it was worth it that I started believing them.

         As soon as Cirrus and I entered his-I mean, our back door, his mom was there. She immediately ushered me to the nearby bathroom, handing me a fresh red tank top. I changed into it, after she bandaged my side lightly to stop the scar from reopening. Once I was done, I pulled off my boots, placing them by the door, and padded upstairs to the room Cirrus and I share-believe it or not. His mother-oh, her name’s Amelia-offered me a room as I got older, but Cirrus declined for me and we turned “my” room into a music studio.

         Knocking a shot rhythm to let Cirrus know it was me, I slowly opened the white door spray-painted with the words “STAY OUT, WE BITE” in bold black letters. I walked in since I heard no protest from my roommate, and did an instinctual scan of our awesome room. Two walls were white, two black, and the furniture matched. My closet, dresser, desk, bedside table, bookcase, iPod player, and alarm clock were black while Cirrus’ were white. We had a huge window opposite the door, and our twin beds were pushed together against the same wall as the door. My possessions, personal bathroom, and closet were to the right of the door, my roomie’s were to the left, past the bed. The bedding was a mix of black and white, while the top blanket draped across both beds was a yin yang design. I swear, the bed was the size of a queen bed.

         Cirrus was seated at his desk, hunched over whatever he was working on. To not disturb him, I quietly shut our door behind me and padded to my bathroom. I was in dire need of a shower. Even though it was only my bathroom, I locked the door. With only a quick glance in the mirror to ensure my state of filthiness wasn’t just a feeling, I stripped of my clothes to turn on the hot water and step into the spray. The water rinsed off dirt, massaged my sore muscles, and soothed my mind of any thoughts. Washing my long hair and rubbing the soap into my scalp felt so much better. It made me wish Cirrus didn’t flush his toilet the moment I was done rinsing my hair and shaving my legs.

         See, whenever one of us flushed our toilet, the other’s water (shower or sink) went icy until the toilet was done. Both of us knew that. So, you could imagine my anger as I yelped, shut off the freezing water, and wrapped a towel around my body. I yanked the door open and glared at the teen sitting on his side of the bed looking at me with false innocence on his face. Gritting my teeth together, I eventually spoke.

         “You know the water goes cold when you flush Cirrus,” I spat. He tilted his head as though he was confused.

         “Do I?” he asked as an egotistical smirk twitched his lips. His eyes widened as I picked up a book and hurled it at his head. With the speed it flew, Cirrus barely had time to duck his head so the book smacked the headboard of his bed. He chuckled. “Okay, so I know. I’m sorry, I was getting bored and wanted the company of my best friend.” I sighed, shaking my head. He was always great at making my anger disappear.

         After I got dressed, dried and brushed my hair, and brushed my teeth, I walked back into the room. Cirrus was now laying on the bed, bouncing a tennis ball off the ceiling. How brilliant. I laid down beside him, my left side against his, and I snagged the ball from his hands to toss it to a random corner of the room. We quickly turned to face each other, inches between us, waiting for the other to speak. A random thought crossed my mind.

         “What are we having for dinner?” I asked. Cirrus shrugged.

         “Mom is going to the clinic”-did I mention she’s a nurse?-“so I’m taking you out,” he told me.

         “Do I have a-“

         “No,” he cut me off, causing me to roll my eyes. He laughed and I couldn’t help but smile. His laugh and smile were just infectious.

         We talked about everything and anything for what seemed like forever. Finally, we stopped when an alarm rang from Cirrus’ pocket. I arched a brow as he pulled his iPhone from his pocket and slid his finger across the screen to quiet the alarm. He looked up at me with a crooked smile and asked, “Ready for our date?”

         Let’s just say, I nearly choked on my own spit.

         Cirrus’ arm was locked around my waist as we approached the restaurant.  It wasn’t an unusual thing for him to do anymore. He started doing it when we were 14, stopping whenever he had a girlfriend and continuing when they broke up. I wouldn’t stop him if I had a boyfriend, which he seemed happy with. I told whoever it was to deal with it or break up with my. 7 of them stayed, the other 3 were idiots.

         I had my 1^st boyfriend, if you could even call him that, at age 12. He asked me out, kissed my cheek when I accepted, and then came up to me after school that day with a black eye and a break up on his lips. To this day, I don’t know who gave him the black eye. I’m not sure I care anymore, since Cirrus and I had been home schooled as of our powers revealing themselves. So things like that didn’t matter, to me at least. I can’t speak for Cirrus.

         I didn’t catch the name of the restaurant before Cirrus had whisked me inside. Candlelit tables, twinkly lights, roses, a fresh scent, the whole romantic aura. Why did he take me here of all places? The early-20s woman standing at the front desk gave us a look of longing as we approached her.

         “Sky for two,” Cirrus said with a charming smile. The lady nodded as I tried not to laugh at the name Cirrus had given her, and then grabbed two menus and a specials paper. She led us to our table, which ended up being out on a deck. Other than the candles, there was no light, the stars twinkling far above.

What Happened to Once Upon A Time?

The classroom erupted into applause when I finished. All the faces mirrored my own bright smile and their eyes sparkled with lasting impression. Ms. Greenfeld clapped loudly. “Brava Blair! Brava! That was truly stunning. Now class. Class!” All attention returned to her, so I quickly sat down. Zane eventually let go of my hand, and a deep part of me wanted him not to. “So, I wanted to inform you on what this year is going to be like. You will have a partner for a duet project, two partners for a harmony project, multiple partners for a band project that will have a special reward and presentation, then we will attempt for the first time to put on or at the very least assist in putting on a school musical!” Everyone cheered once she was done, and all of us were almost bouncing in anticipation. “Now, you are free for the rest of the period. Go!”

         Suddenly, a swarm of students engulfed me. The hum of everyone talking at the same time commenced, and my head pounded. A gentle hand gripped my forearm, - seriously, what it up with people and dragging me today? – whisking me away. I looked at the hand’s owner to see Ms. Greenfeld. She led me to a beautiful black wood piano, sitting on the bench and looking up at me.    

         “Who taught you to sing like that?” she asked.

         “I’m completely self-taught,” I admitted. She looked shocked.

         “Wow. Amazing. Do you play an instruments as well?”

         I looked at my feet, a blush creeping up my neck. “Guitar, bass, drums, and piano.”

         “Self-taught as well?” I nodded, finally looking back up to see her astounded smile. “How did you…?”

         “I had a lot of free time you could say.”

         Ms. Greenfeld nodded, that bright smile still on her face. Then, her smile turned slightly suspicious. “So… you and Zane?”

         I laughed, but a blush still warmed my face. “What about us?”

         “Are you two going out?” she sounded genuinely curious.

         “No! We’re just friends,” I quickly denied.

         At my answer, she frowned. “But you like each other, right?”

         Once again, my gaze was locked on my feet. “We just met each other a few hours ago.”

         “That’s not-” the teacher was interrupted by a voice calling my name. My head snapped to see Nate at the door. My eyebrows drew together as I excused myself from Ms. Greenfeld and walked over.

         “Why are you here?” I hissed. He faked hurt, then grinned.

         “The office wants you to come in.”

         “Oh,” I muttered. I looked back at Ms. Greenfeld. She nodded, but gestured for me to look to the right of her. I looked to see Zane. He was watching us carefully, his face stoic. For a moment, I was going to send him a smile, but I noticed his gaze wasn’t actually on me, but on the teen standing behind me. Why was it that the two seemed mad at each other when they were perfectly fine before? Before I came, they were like brothers! …Did I do something?

         Nate snapped me from my reverie by lightly laying his hand on my arm. Seriously, way too many people touched that same arm so far today. I looked over to him, nodding at his expectant face, and following as he whisked me away. The halls were empty, silent other than the sound of our footsteps. Echoing in the hall, our steps seemed as loud as thunder. Neither of us talked, but the silence wasn’t too awkward. Just a little bit. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Nate opening his mouth as though he was going to say something but quickly shutting it again. I tried to hide a smile. He was completely at a loss for words. Apparently, I didn’t hide my smile very well.

         “What’re ya smiling about?” Nate asked. His voice rang through the halls with our footsteps.

         I shook my head. “Oh, nothing,” I told him, smiling the littlest bit more.

         He nudged my shoulder with his. “Come on. Tell me.”

         Quickly, I wracked my brain for an excuse, “Vocal IV was just really fun.”

         All of a sudden, Nate’s face darkened. “Have fun with Zane?” he practically spat the name.

         My eyebrows drew together. “Yeah, I did. What’s up with you two?”

         He brightened his face, but it looked as fake as it was. “Nothing. Just a little rough bit, like brothers.” I nodded even though I didn’t believe it at all. The tone of voice he said that in just screamed false. Not to mention, his smile looked forced, like he wasn’t actually happy.

         Soon enough we reached the wooden door with the plain blue font reading “OFFICE”. I almost groaned at the sight alone. Nate opened the door for me, his charming smile once again in place. With a wary glance his way, I walked past him into the office. Multiple people sat at computers on the other side of a desk in the middle of the room. There were multiple doors leading to the nurse’s, VP’s, and principal’s offices.

         One woman with short red hair, a splash of freckles, and brown eyes looked up with a relieved smile. She must have been happy to stop typing for even a short while. She flexed her fingers as if they were sore.

         “Blair, right?” she asked. I nodded and she gestured for me to follow her. Nate started to follow, but the woman waved him off. He took a seat in on of the padded chairs by the door as I continued with to a back room labeled “Storage”. She quickly flipped the light on so it illuminated the small area. Many boxes with different last names as labels were stacked on top of each other on shelves, but my suitcase and my soft material bag were on the ground at the end of the closet. I looked to the woman with a questioning gaze.

         “We need you to find another place to put these. A teacher has boxes to store, and this is where we need to put them,” she informed me. As I nodded, my mind raced to think of a place I could put the,. Not one popped into my mind. The lady nudged me so I walked forward, pulled the handle of my suitcase up, and positioned the strap of my soft bad comfortably over my shoulder. Then, I walked back to Nate, a thank you from the woman caressing my ears with a sweet tone.

         Nate raised an eyebrow at the luggage I now had. I gave him the “don’t ask” look, so he changed the subject. “Do you need an escort back to class?” he offered. I contemplated over my answer.

         If I said yes, I definitely wouldn’t get lost. There was no doubt to that. Plus, I would get more time with him. He was really sweet, and a complete gentleman. Not to mention easy to talk to. At the same time, something about him made me uneasy. I just didn’t know what.

         “No, I’m fine,” I found myself saying. He respected my decision and backed off, saying goodbye. Just as he did, I left, though a tad clumsier. Let’s just say going through doors with that luggage is NOT easy. Once I finally figured that mess out, I walked quite slow on my way back to music. I don’t know how long it took, but all I accomplished was tripping, running myself over with my suitcase, and numerous other fails. As soon as I was visible through the large glass window beside the door, I felt a gaze burning a hole in my head. Immediately, I looked up to see an expressionless Zane. I waved, causing his face to relax as he walked over to the door and proceeded to open it for me. I nodded in thanks, and then I felt a tug on my suitcase. My gaze snapped over to my hand as it tightened its grip on the handle. A tan hand was lightly gripping it as well, and my eyes trailed up the strong arm to the plain black t-shirt, to the strong jaw to the full lips and up to the golden eyes. They showed curiosity and a spark of confusion. Yet they were warm, like melted gold. My hand slowly opened, letting go. Zane smiled very softly, taking my suitcase into the music room. All the students that cared to notice had matching expressions of confusion. I followed Zane to Ms. Greenfeld, whose eyebrows were raised as she watched our approach.

         “May we be excused in order to bring these bags to a safe place?” Zane politely asked before our teacher could utter a sound. Her eyebrows drew together at the question.

         “Is she unable to do it herself Zane?” she replied with a question of her own. Zane chuckled.

         “Is it wrong to fear for the safety of a beautiful girl walking alone?” he shot back. My cheeks heated. He was the first male to call me something apart from hot or sexy. Ms. Greenfeld smiled when she glanced at my flushed state.

         “Alright. I’ll give you passes for being late to your next class.” And that is exactly what she did. Next thing I knew, I was walking with Zane towards the front of the school. Although, I didn’t know why. My legs moved quickly passed each other as I raced to keep up with Zane’s longer stride. The rolling of my suitcase was the loudest sound.

         “Where are we going?” I finally asked, almost panting.

         “The parking lot,” he answered nonchalantly. His answer almost made me freeze. The parking lot? Like, the place my parents dropped my off? Great. Cause I totally wanted to go back there. For about 5 minutes we walked, and then we were exiting the front doors of the school. A large lot of cars were laid out before us, and I scanned my eyes across them all. How could the students possibly pick out their own car from all the rest? It seemed impossible, but Zane gently took my hand in his as he pulled me the right direction. I could feel my face heating up already.

         Zane finally stopped in front of a sleek black convertible that had the top opened up. I must have looked like a gaping fish with my wide eyes and open mouth. Zane chuckled as he put his rough fingers on my chin and shut my mouth. My face heated up even more than before when Zane’s fingers lingered slightly more than necessary.