“Psst. Drenar, hey, wake up. Barton’s gonna steamroll you.”
Julia DeVerdra narrows her eyes at the messy-haired teen, who is trying to set a speed run record straight into after-school lessons with Barton by dozing off. Barton is the worst teacher Julia has ever had–she is unfair in her every method of teaching this lackluster class, including not following the regular textbook. If Barton is in a particularly crabby mood, she’ll land both of them in after-school lessons.
She’s not doing this lesson twice, and gives a gentle kick at Drenar’s ankle under the table. He snaps to attention in an instant--just in time for Barton to notice.
“Mr. Rashalda, are you paying attention?!” she scolds him and shakes her head. She looks almost disappointed.
“Oh, er…yes, Mrs. Barton, sorry. Was up late. Doing homework!” He flips open the instruction page for the lab assignment. He does manage to get the answer correct.
“Don’t make me break out my singing voice or anything," Barton huffs before continuing with the instructions. She glances at him, puzzled by his lack of alertness. Why is he so out of it today?
“Classy, Drenar. Is your angle to pretend to only be a mediocre student?” He lets out a hissing exhale when he looks her way. She greets him with a bemused expression behind her thin frame glasses and long black hair. Her azure blue eyes flicker with interest at his attempt to just ignore the comment, and she leans towards him, almost to the edge of her chair.
“Heeey, sleepyhead. Did someone stay up late, and is now suffering from bad time management?” she whispers slyly. Don’t make this too easy for me or anything, you goober.
“You mean if you had a helping hand in that, sure,” he whispers back. He can’t help but hide a smile from Julia, poorly at that. He’s still a kid at heart, even if he wears the ‘so serious’ look far more often than she’d like.
Julia only has two modes for him: cheery, angry, and occasionally both at once. She’s earned it–she’s known him since they were both three years old. She even wears her hair in the same ponytail as back then–except instead of a fashion, it’s now because no one’s going to grab her hair in a fistfight. He’s likely still looking right back at the same old her, with the same pale complexion--with a toned muscle set that put most of the track team to shame. Drenar can mostly compete with her on a dead-even level, but she’s still proud of her one-inch height advantage over him.
And there’s nothing that’s been more fun than the amount of times she’s gotten him in, and out of trouble–mostly playful mischief, and a few jokes taken a little too far. He can be lighthearted, but sometimes, it takes her a little effort and more than a little nudge. He’s also the only person she lets call her the raven-haired Viking and live, too. She’d qualify as more Viking than ninja, because she’s got half Scandinavian heritage and only a quarter Japanese. She looks more like her mom, but with faint oceanic traces. American is the remainder. Either way, she can throw hands with pretty much anyone if she chooses, and win.
“Personal question.” he’s gazing at her outfit with a raised eyebrow. “Do you only wear three colors?”
“Yep. Black, purple, and nerdy memes,” she whispers slyly. She doesn't mention her typical black-painted nails, and ripped jeans. But hey, she’s a radiant ray of sunshine on the inside, and her exterior needs just a hint of dimming for the convenience of the rest of the world–or so she thinks. “You look amazingly disheveled today.”
“We have to set a hard limit on our late-night gaming,” he says with a contented sigh. “Wish I had your confidence in this class.”
“It’s all in the manual.” Julia rolls her eyes behind her glasses. Barton prattles on about the lab instructions, and he’s dozing off again a short time later. She gives him another nudge with her shoe. He swivels in his seat, knocks over a beaker, and it rolls to the edge.
Whoops! Julia manages to catch the glass beaker in an impressive display of lightning reflexes. She then hands it back to him. “Uh, sorry. That might have been excessive.”
“I think you just enjoy that,” he accuses.
“You’ve dozed off twice now. What’s up?”
“Nothing, I’m fine,” he offers. “Well…tired, maybe.”
“Uh-huh,” she shrugs before turning back to her work. He’s pretty sure she didn't buy his answer.
“Okay, I’m…not exactly sure what’s up. I’ve been having a lot of strange dreams lately.” he finally capitulates!
“Like, sexy dreams?” she teases. He promptly ignores the poor attempt to provoke.
“Nah, more like, I turned into a dragon, there was this big void in the sky that tried to tear the world–and me–into bits and pieces, and there’s a voice in my head giving me crap for flying towards said giant hole in reality. I made it to the void–and then I fell out of bed,” he sums up. “Crazy, right?” Then she grins wildly.
“Yep! Just like you. Now, was I in this dream of yours?”
“No. It was just me, I guess,” he replies. “Oh, and some voice claiming they're a dragon, and that I hijacked his body. His name was Alexander." She laughs a little too loudly at this, and a few students turn to stare. She tones it down to just above a whisper. No need to attract too much attention.
"What a delightful imagination Drenar, even the voices in your head in a dream get names too!"
"You're right. Smith or Bob would have been too suburban. So, why the interest anyway?”
"I've...been having trouble sleeping lately." She doesn’t know why, either. “I don't know, maybe it's just the last year of high school jitters.” Except my vision has been going screwy, like I can see light where there isn’t. What’s up with that? And I feel like I’m statically charged all the time. I think I need to change the fabric types on my clothes.
"Well, there you go.” He continues to jot down notes from the test.
“It isn't just that.”
“What isn't?”
“Do you ever get the feeling you're different from other people?” It should be a casual question to Drenar.
But, ever since she found that book in her mom’s room a month ago, she’s started to notice stuff that doesn’t add up. Not just now–in the past, too. She has to be reading into it too deeply. Drenar answers before she can explain further.
“Me? No. There’s nothing about me that stands out as extraordinary. Well, maybe the subtle nudging I got from Angie that I should see if I could get on the Olympic team for fencing,” he adds. “Or, do you mean something intrinsically different?”
“Something like that.” She jots down a few notes as the lab experiment finishes. “It’s hard to put a finger on it, but I’ve felt like a few people, they’re made to be something greater.”
“Something greater,” Drenar repeats. “Okay, you’re hung up on this. What feels different between today and say, last week?”
“I dunno. At face value, nothing noteworthy.” Which for her, means there’s more, and she wraps her hair around her finger gently. "It's not any one thing, it's just...a feeling. Do you know how I can anticipate moves on the mat when doing judo? Or the time I punched a hole into a brick wall? Or lately, it's just...I feel like I look at the world and I see something else there, just out of sight, like there's an undercurrent to what I see."
"See what, exactly? There’s a broad swath of optical maladies or neurotrauma that could be attributed to that.”
“Hey, my vision is mostly fine,” she adds when he points at her thin-framed, rectangular-shaped glasses. She barely needs them. “Sometimes I swear I can tell when someone throws a circuit in my house." She’d also been getting that static zap feeling more often–and she swears she left a tiny scorch mark on her jeans yesterday.
"That’s not that strange. A few people can be sensitive to EM fields." He ticks off each one as logical. "Name one truly impossible thing you've seen or done lately.”
"I flung Nick five meters one time when he tried out at the training center?" This one legitimately surprises him. Yeah, he shook his head like he couldn’t believe it. I couldn’t believe it, either, and Nick’s no pushover. A heartthrob maybe, but not for me.
"You've always had berserker strength, but that's pretty impressive," he finally admits. "Look, Julia, I know you think something's off with the world. But last I checked, we live in Opechea Falls, Colorado. A bastion of unimportance, where nothing important happens. It is literally the most boring town I've ever known."
"You've only lived in one town," she replies in annoyance.
"Okay, fair point. But seriously, the last I checked, the laws of physics haven’t broken down, gravity still pulls us to the earth's core, and James still can't do track and field to save his life. If any of those cease to be true, then yeah, you might be onto something," he assures her.
"Any other things I should put on the bingo card describing the breakdown of reality?" she asks while giving him a droll look.
"Dragons, real-life dungeons, ancient evils, world-spanning conspiracies, James Bond villain companies, and my favorite, some chosen hero running around trying to save the world," he responds. The odds of any of them existing are nonexistent.
"I'll be sure to send a text if I observe any of the above," she replies heartily.
“It’s your move, Drenar.”
“I’m busy running calculations.”
“Speed it up, slowpoke! I want you to crush him beneath your feet, and listen to the lamentations of his–oh wait, forever alone. Sorry, James.”
Drenar’s rival of the day is James Shalinde–who is also her friend, too. He’s not tolerating the delays. “You two do not get the concept of speed chess or dignity. Calculation optimization, James rebukes in a stern tone. James has a thin but sturdy frame, medium-length wavy brown hair, and brown eyes. She wouldn't call him gaunt, but he looks like his face is held tight against his skull.
“You’ve been staring at that board as if you expected the pieces to move themselves,” James directs to Drenar.
“Hey, I’d take telekinesis as a superpower, it's got tons of utility. A magical fox girl told me that,” Drenar pushes a pawn, and earns a death glare from her. He smiles right back unflinchingly. "I have no patience for chess, it takes too long. Let's go back to Magic cards next week."
"Bah, I can't keep up with the newest sets, it's getting so pricey lately." James might be a bit dour at times, but she still treats him as a friend. There is no game he can’t pick up and master quickly. Pokémon?"
"Too kid-friendly. Magic it is," James finally agrees. “Man, remember how we met? When Pokémon was newer?”
“I distinctly recall saving your scrawny hide at the tender age of eight,” Drenar grins. “Chuck and his cronies were beating you up because you wouldn't give them your cards. Chuck broke my nose, and I busted two of his front teeth, and Julia…well…let's just say she can be utterly savage at times.”
“I’m right here, sleepyhead,” she growls. “Plus, Drenar was pulling punches. He should have caved Chuck’s skull in, and posed with his foot on his destroyed body, like some gruesome pulp historical brawler movie!”
“You tried to gouge Zach's eyes out!” James declares with a roll of his eyes.
“He had it coming. He bit me.” She will never apologize for giving that bully the beating of a lifetime for mugging James.
“We got detention, and they both almost got expelled. Man, has it been a while since I thought about that,” Drenar laughs. “I can't believe my mom was able to talk down to the principal like that. We should have all gotten suspended.”
“Worth it, though. We got to meet Angela.” They had both met her through James several years ago, and she's become good friends with both of them over time. They’re besties, which is a cut above friend level.
“Eh. She can do worse than you Drenar, but you're alright Julia, she’s your bestie. You still owe me for covering for movie night, by the way,” he says slyly to Drenar.
“Oooh, what’s the scoop! Angie said some words, but I think she was holding back!” Julia practically sings. Drenar looks like he wants to crawl under a rock right now. It’s so adorable when he gets that embarrassed look.
“Well, your parents showed up out of nowhere, and probably would not have looked well upon us being in the house alone.” Drenar decides to skip to the point. “What favor do I owe you?”
“Spill it, you two!” They both ignore her, and she folds her arms in annoyance. When James is around, she can’t push Drenar quite as easily.
“Just see if you can get me a date with Julia.”
“The sun will become a red giant and incinerate the planet before Julia agrees to that,” Drenar states dryly before crossing his arms.
“Yes, it will,” she adds with a smug look. “You know I’m right here, manling. I can still crush you.”
“But Drenar’s the only person that can talk you into seeing reason at times.”
“It’s a perk of being a bestie! Try harder, you might make the list! And smile more often James, it helps!” she beams.
“I’ll keep that in mind.” The bell rings, and she and Drenar head to her sleepy-time class, History. She's both good at reading, and inferring conclusions of the past--but it's still boring as sin.
Meaning, she’s going to spend the entire period watching Drenar doodle on his notepad–he’s not up to Angie's level of sketches, but he’s decent. Except he seems to be trying to take a nap. Again.
“Drenar, if you will?”
He’s at it again! The dozing teenager! She taps his foot and he snaps back to his senses. He owes her for her prompts to keep him out of detention, seriously!
“Mmnh, yes, had to think for a moment.” He at least recovered fast. “How many sightings of some mythic creature were reported in the last year? The answer was, uh, five?”
“In math maybe, but good guess,” Nimbul said, evoking a few laughs. Julia is not one of them. “Even today, myths and legends persist. Though as you can imagine…many have been disproven. Cryptids are quickly becoming a forgotten curiosity.”
Oh, you think that’s nuts, you should see that book I found. It’s wild, she thinks with a hint of a smile.
“Mr. Deshandrea, your rebuttal?” she hears the teacher say a moment later. She turns to the teen near the back row. He'd joined the school a few years ago, and she knew little about him. Nicholas, or Nick as most people referred to him as, is usually laid back and keeps his blond hair long, and tied back in a ponytail--adorkably old-fashioned, she notes. He has hazel eyes and a calm demeanor every time she sees him. He’s also on the track team, and she’s had a chance to race against him a time or two, and in the ring.
He’s good–too good for his age. Today, he's wearing his usual bomber jacket and dark-colored pants. He usually keeps to himself and a handful of the athletic team members, although he does occasionally talk with Angela during class. Angela usually stays mum on what they talk about–which she finds odd. She can convince Angela to tell her just about anything because she’s persistent!
Ironically, Nick is usually trying to wave away all of the teen girls who see him as a heartthrob. Where does he get that cool factor? Does life have hidden stats? She thinks shrewdly. Okay, the bomber jacket is kinda cool. There, I said it. Maybe I'll get one someday.
“It’s not a question of proof or disproof, it’s a question of interpretation.” Nick really did have a way to speak. “All truth is relative.”
“We live in an age where an app on Facebook, of all things, can transpose images or distort people's faces with an algorithm. People love attention. Even if it’s the wrong kind of attention,” Drenar counters. “The speed of a lie’s way faster than the truth.”
Finally, the messy-haired kid is paying attention.
“Not everything is a lie–not directly. Indeed, we often are biased against what we don’t know. And people would rather believe what is simple. Or convenient, without actually engaging in critical thinking,” Nicholas rebuts, sitting up in his chair with renewed interest.
“Someone has done their reading for today, for once,” Nimbul said, and this got a few halfhearted laughs. Drenar is more focused on drawing in his notepad a little while later, much to her satisfaction–dragons and knights again? Oh, with a damsel flying on top of him–how dashing!
But this class doesn't move any faster.
"You know, there's more truth to dragon sightings than you'd think.” That idiot conspiracy theorist is taking his shot at trying to pawn off ridiculous stories again! “Even to this very day, there are some fossils that have yet to be identified. And let's not forget all the sightings that people claim to this very day, which you mentioned."
“Bah, crazy talk. There’s no fossil record. The alchemical byproducts in their body degrade and cause a corpse to incinerate bones and all, there’d never be any proof that would survive for long,” Nicholas replies sarcastically.
“Where’d you hear that one?” the student demands.
“The Draconomicon,” Nicholas replies matter-of-factly. She is fairly certain he's referring to a book, but it's at the edge of even her obscure knowledge. Drenar might remember it better than her.
Wait. What the hell? That mention of a corpse self-incinerating sounds awfully familiar, like it's something she'd read recently.
"Oh really? So why does the lamestream media never report on this? Or for that matter, mages battling in the streets of Mogadishu a few years back? A digital dead zone in Madrid where the entire city went into a blackout while all sorts of monsters--"
"What, you never heard of the great blackout back in 2017? A transformer blew and some university students got bored and ran around in costumes," Nick almost sounds smug. "You seriously need to get your news from more reliable sources."
"Nick c'mon man, we've had a topsy-turvy few years where people saw literal mages running around casting fireballs, and no one bats an eye, and it's all on video. The US government isn’t hiding aliens, they’re hiding wizards and dragons! And no one bats an eye!"
“If you two are done with the fictional portion of today's lesson, perhaps we can move on to some real history lessons?” the teacher states irately. Nick is still wearing that smug look.
At least Drenar keeps his head down this time, and he finishes his doodles of a fire-breathing dragon roasting evil knights, and a young princess riding her scaled friend to freedom. It’s way more interesting–
“Nani?! What feathers?” he whispers and looks back at her, his face shocked. She gives him a confused look.
“What?” he’s shaking his head like he’s got something buzzing around him.
“You commented on the need for feathers.” she glances over her shoulder–the students are rising to leave for the day.
“Yeah nah, that wasn’t me Drenar,” she says. He still is looking around. Um, something is really weird here. She knows something is spooking him with the way he keeps looking around anxiously before heading out of class.
“Hey, you alright?” She gets a shake on the shoulder as she looks at Drenar heading down the hall. Julia sees her bestie, Angela Shalinde, all with long brown wavy hair, gray-blue eyes, and looking all cute, waiting for her. Adorable, but also strong enough to break someone in half on the martial training floor.
And she thought she was beastly. Angela also has a touch more curves than her, not that she isn’t proud of her own well-disciplined figure, and she's dressed in her normal dark shirt and slim jeans. “Julia, earth to Julia, you were transfixed on Drenar. What’s up?”
“Somethings’ off with him,” she finally says aloud. “Way off.” She walks a short distance to her locker, and the crowd has thinned–Angela usually drives them home, and Drenar heads home with his brother.. “I dunno. Maybe I shouldn’t keep him up so late.”
That static feeling is back too. There’s an itching at her fingertips while she fiddles with the dial lock and pops it open. “Julia, he’s fine! Surely! He’s a tough kid, nothing knocks him down for long! Well, except you,” she adds with a laugh. Julia ignores it and reaches for one of her books–
*crack*
A bright crackle of static runs from her hand to the metal and she yelps–it surprises her far more than it hurts and she recoils in a pure reaction. “Yowza, damn it! I hate static!” she hisses through her teeth. Angela laughs, then peers back at her locker. Her fingers feel numb for a second.
“Look Tsundere, be more gentle with the world, and it’ll be…more…um…” Angela peers into the locker, and then looks at Julia with shock. “Did someone rig your locker with a nine-volt battery or something?”
“Why?” Julia nudges her aside to peer in. She slowly takes a step back.
There’s a black scorch mark where her fingers had contacted the metal. She swears she can see a wisp of smoke, and smells a hint of ozone. “Seriously girl, you need to change your fabric, that was something!” Angela says with slight amazement. Julia continues to stare. A thought--an impossible thought--is ringing in her head.
That book is getting another read tonight. She doesn’t know why, but she’s stumbled on something about herself that she thinks she wasn’t meant to find.
That shock had been elemental plasma. And that can only mean one thing:
Dragons.
