2

My jaw dropped out of shock. I gaped at him. Oh my god. A flurry of emotions went through me, love, passion, hate, anger, betrayal, crushed . . . but most of them were wrong emotions.
"Nice to know that you remember me," he teased.
"K-K-KBLIYEL!" I cried at him. My voice sounded rough and stale, but I didn't feel the need for water anymore. Why the hell was he back? And the first thing he says is, "Nice to know you remember me." What does that mean? How could he speak in front of me after all these years? What he did will never be forgotten, so why now does he show his face?
I difficultly brushed away my emotions temporary, and braced myself to look like that I meant business.
"You've got some nerve to come back here," I said a loathsome voice. By now I had crawled out of Dean's arms. Reluctantly, he moved them to my shoulders, and stared at me with a concerned look on his face.
"Do I?" he replied innocently.
"Aw hell-
But I never got to fire back at him, because I got interrupted when an irritated roughed voice roared,
"DO YOU KIDS HAVE ANYTHING BETTER TO DO THAN BICKERING?!"
Dean and I both jumped at the uproar, while Kyle barely blinked. His sane patient calm look just made me more furious at him.
"Our fault Mr. Cable," Kyle said. I did catch that he said our fault, like it was my fault he was back and I couldn't stop myself from biting his head off! Gosh! Kyle . . .
"Well, if you are alright Mrs. Rosaletti I will be on my way. It's 7:15 in the afternoon, I don't understand what you kids are doing at the school at this time. Kids these days can't be trusted." Mr. Cable glared at us. He continued his rant, but I had totally blanked out and the emotions and memories flooded back of Kyle Langsworth. What did I do to deserve this? Kyle had no right to be here, in fact no right to be anywhere. He should be taken to a rehabilitation of teens who have problems of living their life. I never, will not, not in my life time forgive him. I was shaking of rage, (Mr. Cable seemed to think his annoying typical rant had influenced me, and unfortunately continued in a more pompous attitude) I could feel my eyes getting wet.
No! I will not allow his reappearance destroy me. If he wants to make my life even more miserable than when he had already done, then he was in for a real treat. My parents came from a long chain of tough, brave, courageous, and most of all indomitable ancestors. He was going to have to make a grand effort if he wanted to take me down.
"-this mess! Now! And tommarow I better see it as perfect as it was before you ruddy kids had a chance to ruin it!
And with that, Mr. Cable stalked off. Typical Mr. Cable. He taught the 8th grade history class. (What a burden) He's a no-life failure at living, without a wife, age 47, totally indistinctive, and completely appalling. (With his short pale blond hair -in the center a big bald spot- and disturbingly short and fat, you can see why!) Plus, he doesn't give a bull about any of the students. If a student's parent had died and didn't turn in a homework assignment? F. No excuses from Mr. Cable. A total uncaring jerk.
"Val, are you okay?" Dean finally asked. His voice sounded heart-broken and the low tone with the sexiness in it just made me want to melt to the ground.
"F-f-fine," I said. But I wasn't. I looked down at myself. I was covered in bruises all over my body, and I my head hurt like hell. I was going to feel like crap tomorrow.
But with Dean reassured, the color seemed to flow right back to his face, and his breath-taking smile made me want to laugh.
"You nearly scared the shit out of me. I thought you had. . . " his voice trailed off.
"Died?" Kyle answered smirking.
"Nobody asked for your answer," I snapped at him.
"Just trying to help."
"Well your not helping."
"I can see that."
"Whatever."
I figured it would be easier to just yell at him then think about why in the world he was back, and start bawling my eyes out. I was infuriated at him, and I did not want memories from back in the days when I used to. . . STOP THINKING ABOUT THEM! See, I have this problem, I tend to be able to think about other stuff while speaking about something totally different. It was a great advantage at times, but not now.
"Hey now, Val, I don't think ripping about this dude's head off is exactly going to be such a great accomplishment for your personal records." Dean joked.
"Who said I was going to rip his head off?"
"I think being your best friend for about five years helps with trying to figure out what's going on in your head."
"Well your wrong."
Dean raised his eyebrow, while Kyle rolled his eyes.
"I'm not going to rip his head off, I'm going to stomp on his body till it turns to ashes then I will burn the ashes while dancing to Burnin' Up."
Dean laughed at our inside joke.
"So. . . Say, what happened?" I asked confusedly. The overwhelming sensation of Kyle coming back took out all logic out of my mind, it still had but I needed to get my facts right before I went into panic mode.
"I mean, all I remember was looking out the window, and-" I stopped dead. A nudging consciousness feeling jabbed at my gut. It wasn't painful, but the sensation told me to shut the hell up.
I guess Dean understood my sudden stop of conversation and confusion because he hastily said,
"Yeah, I'm not exactly sure what happened, but I think it was just a freak accident."
"Yeah, cause' a freak accident is when the boogie man comes and rips everything apart," Kyle sarcastically said.
"What are you talking about Kyle? Why do you always have to twist people's words around? Why can't you just-"
And it was then I noticed what he meant. The entire classroom looked. . . Like the boogie man came and ripped everything apart. (Drat!) The tables were turned up on their sides, papers and books were everywhere, the chairs looked liked they were purposefully flinged at the wall, and shelves were hanging off of their cabinets. Nothing seemed to be broken, but it looked as if a huge drunk party had taken place in here. In fact, the entire classroom was a wreck except for
Mrs. Walker's desk.
"What- " I started to ask but Dean cut me off.
"Like I said, I don't know."
"It definitely wasn't a freak accident." Kyle interpreted.
"Then how-"
"Valerie. We were blacked out when it happened, if it wasn't for your friend Kyle here we probably would still be unconscious."
"Yeah, it's a good thing your boyfriend is a jock or else recovering would have been a little tricky."
I glared at Kyle. Back in the days when Kyle and I were. . . acquainted, we always had our stereotypical jokes. Such as jocks were these idiotic players who spent all their time drinking and passing out. Which I now found to be complete nonsense.
"Okay, one: Kyle isn't my friend, two: Dean isn't my boyfriend, and three: what are you doing here?" I directed at Kyle.
"I don't think now is a great time to confide with you about that subject."
I was taken back for a second. Kyle looked so serious when he said that, but I recovered and fired back.
"Anytime is a great time for you." I snapped at him.
He looked confused for a second and then realization hit him. His eyes widened in surprise and remorseful. I knew I had hit the bulls eye. Suits him right. We stared at each other, his face filled with contrite, while mine filled with resentment.
"Hey now, Kyle is right." Dean said. He glanced at me, and continued,
"Now is not a suitable time, and we first need to clean up this mess."
"What!" I cried. I tore off my gaze from Kyle and looked at Dean in surprise and confusion.
"We didn't even do anything!"
"Yeah, well try convincing Cable that," Kyle said.
I sighed and pulled out my phone.
"Looks like we need to call in the groupie."

1 Valentina Rosaletti, Scarlett Darnell, Mitchie Provitz, Leila Everhart, Gracie Collins, someone sanchez? Kyle Langsworth,

Mrs. Applebee, cut, glue, stick, pile, Mr. Applebee, cut, glue, stick, pile, Sarah Applebee, cut, glue...

I could smell the light breeze flowing through the window and felt the twirling pieces of my hair around. I could hear the chirping of the crickets annoyingly mating. I glanced over at him, hoping he would have some frustrated face on, but no. His friendly beauty looked dazed but attentive and he worked at a beautiful pace. Tiredly, my eyes wandered around the classroom. Tonight didn’t seem right.
It had been an ordinary fall afternoon at Grand Oak Academy in Virginia Beach, Virginia. And yes, I know what you are thinking, that me living on a beach is the coolest way to live. And it is no doubt. Why swim in some manmade tub when you could sit by the quiet but deadly ocean, smell the sea, hear the crashing waves, taste the salty air on the tip of your tongue. . .
I sighed and rubbed my head, I had an aching headache this entire day, but now it just felt like it was going to explode. I tapped my fingers on the desk, and bobbed my feet lightly. Out of ordinary, I felt distracted. I felt so foreboding today, as if I knew something horrible would happen which might explain my unusualness. But then again it was a Monday.
The Grand Oak Middle School, a small private school filled with 250 seventh and eighth graders, was a very free opened school but strict school. The school’s system was very cool, with many clubs and organizations, but the way it was worked was like public school. I’d been home schooled my entire life until I came here one year ago for seventh grade. The public schools sucked for all ages, but this school had only been opened for six years. Although the school was not built, it used to be an old home from the 1800’s. A very rickety warned out almost collapsing home, but very large. With a very long but accomplishing remodeling, and demolition, it looked very school like, but a few artifacts and lumber were kept such as the huge stake like cross that hanged over the auditorium and walls arches in the walls and windows. At first sight it looked highly unappealing, but it was just a regular school.
"Ugh," I grumbled.
I'd kill to be anywhere but here, I thought.
No wait, I take that back. Wait, do I?
I ran my fingers through my hair, bad habit. I usually always did that when I was nervous or stressed. But you would be too if you had been making name tags for the past two hours, even if you were sitting by the most gorgeous guy in the 8th grade. Gorgeous? Yeah, you heard me.

Dean Parker, hot beach blondie with piercing blue eyes. Yeah, piercing. Like you know how in books there is always that one amazing guy with those amazingly blue eyes? Well I used to never believe that they were true, but yeah, trust me, they are 100 percent icy glittering melting blue. But that's not all, with that soft dark blond surfer hair that never gets tangled, (god! lucky!) and an absolute dove like skin with a tan that would make any model die for, (okay, maybe not, but it's basically beautiful) and to top it all off, he's got this great hunky body of five foot eight inches. (Which he has because of all the sports he plays, including basketball volleyball, football, etc.)And he's only fourteen! Wow huh? But... (I know, your probably thinking, "but? But what?! What could possibly be wrong with a hottie like this!") problem is, he's my best friend. And best friends do not date each others best friends. And unfortunately, that goes for both the best friends as well. Takes all the romantics out of life huh?

"Hey, you okay?"
I looked up, though I didn't need to. I could have recognized that voice from anywhere, the low sexy bass hum singing in my ears.
I pulled my hand away from my hair, embarrassed that I had groan so loud.
"Nah," there was a brief silence. I added,
"Nothing beats making name tags for 200 kids and their families!"
Dean chuckled and said,
"You would think that spending time with me would make your life miserable."
"What? No way! Your so awesome! And any girl would die to be with you!"
But in truth, I was feeling pretty pathetic. I mean, come on! It was a Friday night! I should have said yes to Scar, Mitchie, Leila, and Grace, when they invited me for our weekly MGS. (Movies, gossip, and sleepovers) But no, I had to spend my Friday night at the school making name tags for the fundraiser coming up in five months. Don't get me wrong, Dean is pretty awesome to hang out with, after all he's my best friend, but I could do with ex may on the name tags though.
Dean scoffed,
"Yeah, I've heard that one before."
"Somebody is a little pompous about themselves," I joked.
"Ha ha ha," he replied sarcastically and flipped his hair. Oh my god, I so want to touch it!
"We've been at it for hours. My hands aren't going to be able to hold a pencil tomorrow!" I wailed.
"I'm sorry, will a finger massage be able to fix that?" he playfully deceiving me.
"Ha, you wish."
"So I do..." he sighed.
I rolled my eyes and got up. I walked to Mrs. Walker's, our homeroom supervisor, desk and lay the hundreds of name tags on top. A couple had dropped from the desk, I reached down but then something caught my eye.
"Say, what's this?"
A piece of fabric was sticking out of a small dust covered drawer on the inside of the desk. But it didn't look like at all as if it were part of the desk.
"Who puts a drawer on the inside of a desk?" I wondered aloud.
"Perhaps Mrs. Walker? She always did seem more of the old fashion type." Dean replied, now standing beside me putting down his pile of name tags.
"And putting a drawer inside a desk is old fashioned?" I accused.
He shrugged.
"Sure, I read something like that in a library once."
I sighed. Of course he would know something like that. Besides being amazingly athletic and charismatic, he really was very smart and a bookworm. But he wasn't at all interested in something mysterious. And something was very mysterious about this.
"But who locks a piece of cloth up?"
"Maybe its a rare, expensive, fine piece of silk from Egypt."
"Please, Mrs. Walker would have to first step out of her house to go to Egypt."
"Huh, good point."
We both smiled. I picked up the remaining name tags.
It was at that moment a heart throbbing crash was heard from the out the window in the parking lot, though it sounded like it boomed in the very classroom we were in.
"Who else is here?" I asked nervously.
"Well it's a school, its probably just Mr. Cable falling over his science equipment," Dean said, but I could tell he to didn't sound so reliable with his answer.
"Maybe..."
I slowly stood up, leaving the name tags on the floor. I leaned across the desk and looked out the nearest window. It was 7:00 in the afternoon, but already it was pitched black in the night. There were no lights on, not even the flood lights that run on stored solar energy on the school.
"Whoa," Dean said coming up behind me,
"Check out the moon, ever seen it like that before?" he muttered.
I looked up, sure enough the moon wasn't at all like the moon. It looked twice its regular size, and had a moldy type of scenery toward it. A very inhuman setting...
CRASH
Dean and I were forced back from an invisible force and smashed into the wall. A blinding light came from the window, surrounding every object in the room with an alarming glow. A blood curdling shriek filled the air with an intensifying shiver. Then everything went black.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Somebody was calling my name. Who was that? What did they want? I just want to sleep.
"Val! Val, come on! Get up!" the voice urged at me. I could feel warm arms holding my shoulders. I felt so comfortable.
No I'm too tired, let me rest...
"Valerie! Please!" I could have recognized that voice from anywhere. A new set of arms took the place of the warm ones. Safer.
I will, I will...
"She's parched. Langsworth! Fetch her some water, now!" a disgruntled crude voice demanded.
Wait... Langsworth?
I heard a grumble, then someone swiftly stand up and sprinting away, the footsteps fading. One two, one two, one...
"Hurry!" the voice with the safe hands shouted.
Please do... Please...
The crude voice was right, I felt as if my throat was shriveled, dry as dust... The safe hands around my shoulders moved to my back, holding me to a broad chest. I felt secure, I felt as if nothing could tear me apart from this. I wanted to stay here, and no where else. Didn't want to think of anything but me and... and...
Wait. Langsworth!
I tried to struggle, he was here. He was here. Why was he here? He couldn't be here! He shouldn't be here! How? Why? No. NO!
I was now trying to open my eyes, free my mouth from silence, but it was such a feeble attempt. I felt weak and limp. Exhausted.
I heard the hastily sprinting of steps coming now. One two, one two, one-
"Move it!"
I felt my secure arms holding me budge a little.
"Just give her the water!"
I felt my mouth being forced open out of my power, and cool luscious water running down my shriveled throat. It felt wonderful, as if I had never had a substance so inviting, so pleasing. I tried to swallow. A stinging pain ran through my throat and lungs, but I didn't care, I needed more. I drained every last drop, rapidly quick as if no amount of water would be enough for me. I slumped down a little, the safe arms caught me by the last millisecond.
"Val? Val, come on its time to get up." A low honey-like soothing melodious voice rang in my ears. The breath was overwhelming; a fresh wholesome scent. A cacophony of noises filled my head at these words. All uncomprehending.
My eyes slowly opened. I panicky fished out where the voice was coming from, the aroma, the fault. The scene wasn't right. Dean was crouching over me, arms around me as if I were a precious fragile angel. His eyes were wet, and his face colorless. I gaped at him, wondering what on earth could have happen to make him look so... hysteric, dismay covered his entire face. Time went slowly. His facial expression did not changed. In fact, he looked more displeased by the second. I wanted to change this. Wanted his cheery smile back. I could not stand this. But I didn't know what to say. My voice could work, but did I have the willpower to use it?
"Achem"
Confusion sweeping through me, I looked to the sound of the irritated voice.
Oh god, oh god, oh god. It's him. Him. He's here.