The Revealing
Chapter 1

Friday, September 5, 2014

It was the first day of school—the first day of Grade 11, to be exact. Things would have been fine if I hadn’t switched schools and moved back to my old house in the summer. It felt like the first day of Grade 9 all over again, but this school seemed different from my last school. Everyone seemed perfect—maybe too perfect. There were cliques, but they all seemed to get along.

“Obsidian?”

I snapped out of my usual daze, quickly this time. Almost no one noticed my small jump at the sound of my name as the booming voice of Mr. Watters, my first-period English teacher, echoed through the big room.

“Here,” I said.

I tried my best to stay invisible. Obviously, it didn’t work. When I lifted my eyes from my desk, I saw more than 10 curious pairs of eyes focused on my face. Gradually, the staring heads turned away. Mr. Watters marked me down as present, absentmindedly saying, “Now, there is a name you don’t see every day. What’s your background, Obsidian?”

He looked at me, expecting an answer, so I gave him the one he was most likely looking for. I managed to say, “Um, my parents are Greek, but I was born in Spain.”

The teacher cut in. “That is very interesting. Are they both Greek?”

This is great! I thought. Now I’m having a public conversation with the teacher in front of the class.

“No. Well, I’m not exactly sure. I was adopted a while ago. I don’t really remember my parents that well.”

There it was: the lie I always had to use. It was a lot easier than the truth, the one piece of information Mason said not to share. The lie was the only way to get teachers to stop talking to me. An awkward situation always brought people to change the subject. I would have to deal with Mason later.

Mr. Watters’s face reddened. He was clearly uncomfortable. “Oh, uh, my condolences.” He paused, tugged at his shirt collar, cleared his throat and then continued. “We should really get to the lesson.”

Well, maybe it wasn’t the best idea to use that information on the first day of school, but it was necessary. I couldn’t handle the stares, even though that comment caused even more people to stare. However, almost everyone once again turned back to pay attention to the lesson surrounding our construction of the play Romeo and Juliet. There was one person, though, who continued to stare, not getting the hint that I was steeped in discomfort, and the situation was slowly getting a lot more awkward. Finally, my eyes met those of the mystery boy sitting a few rows over and in front of me. His eyes were violet! He smiled at me in a friendly manner, but his smile didn’t suit his face; it looked false. He must have noticed my alarmed expression, because he turned his head abruptly. I was shaking. I had never seen something like that before—except once.

I was 5 years old when it happened. My parents and I went to the park for a picnic, something they loved to do. I flew a kite I had made with my father, running down the hill to pick up speed to put it in the sky. On that day, there was something different about my special park. A boy was there.

“Mommy, who is that?” I asked. My curious mind was always looking for answers from my mother.

“Who are you talking about, Obsidian?”

Her response startled my 5-year-old mind. How had she not noticed the boy sitting in the middle of an open field as if he were a huge sign that said “Random Object—Look Here”? But she did not see him, so I asked again, pointing this time with my tiny finger.

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She turned her head to see what I was pointing at, yet she still did not see him. This was odd. I laughed and ran toward the boy—but not to him just yet. My mother suspected that it was a harmless game of make-believe, so she let me continue with my kite and my little game. I made sure to go when my mother wasn’t looking, as I wasn’t sure if she was pretending not to see the boy sitting cross-legged in the field.

“Hello,” I said to the boy, smiling.

He was looking down at the ground, not answering, so I squatted beside him and said hello again. This time, the boy looked up at me. His eyes were not purple like the eyes of the boy in my class. His eyes were a soft, mellow, calming pink. He looked curious and surprised.

“You can see me?”

He seemed alarmed. At that point, I realized that my mom hadn’t been joking. I was the only one who could see him.

“Of course I can, silly.” I smiled at him and nudged him a little bit.

“No one can see me,” he whispered, looking at his feet.

I thought for a little bit, and then my little 5-year-old brain came up with an idea beyond my years.

“It’s nice to meet you. My name is No One,” I said, grinning at the idea. This perked him up a little. My unexpected comment startled him. I, for one, was loving this game.

He smiled back and said, “Well, nice to meet you, No One. My name is Carson.”

It was quite the encounter, though I didn’t think much of it at the time.

“If you don’t mind me asking, why are your eyes pink?” I said.

At that point, the smile dropped off his face, and he once again had a grim expression, so I didn’t continue with the topic. “Do you want to fly my kite with me?” I asked.

He looked happy once again and said, “Yes, No One, I do.”

We played with my kite and then played a game of tag before my parents called me over to eat. I didn’t tell my parents about Carson, because I felt Carson didn’t want me to. After I finished eating, I told Carson that I had to go home, but I wanted to play with him again. He told me he would come find me soon. I never told anyone about him, because somehow I knew he didn’t want me to, and I was being a good friend. I liked having a friend to play with, because I didn’t have many to begin with. My parents kept me away from the other children in the town. At the time, I didn’t know why, and I didn’t want them to keep me away from Carson, so I kept my mouth shut.

English class went on as a normal class would. There was one thing that concerned me, though: at the end of the period, Mr. Watters let everyone know that the English classes would be working with the drama team on Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet and performing it by the end of the semester. I, for one, would not be one of the main characters. Maybe I’d be a side character or an extra. I would leave the big roles to the drama buffs in the classroom. Besides, they were all good looking and probably were used to being the centre of attention.

When class was over, I took a minute to adjust as everyone else left his or her seat. I picked up my binder and textbook, stood up and headed for the door to go to my second-period class. Suddenly, a foot came out of nowhere, and as I tripped and fell to the ground, my books went flying across the room and hit the boy with purple eyes right in the back. Just my luck. As I lay there, disgruntled, I looked up to secure my bearings, and my nose bumped into a shoe. I followed the shoe with my eyes and saw that it belonged to a handsome boy with a sneer plastered on his face.

“Damian!” A deep voice came out of the purple-eyed boy.

The evil-looking boy said, “Oh, I’m sorry. My foot has got a mind of its own.” A sly grin covered his face, making me shiver.

The boy with the purple eyes came over to Damian, lifted him by his shirt and snarled, “Apologize!”

Damian didn’t look the least bit scared, even though the boy with the purple eyes looked as if he could finish him off in a second. Damian stayed silent, and the boy with the purple eyes threw him onto the floor. I cringed at the disagreement the two massive boys were having. Damian was laughing, which seemed to upset the boy with the purple eyes even more. I decided to interrupt the fight before things got ugly.

“Umm.” My voice sounded as quiet as a mouse.

I was sure no one could hear me, but everyone who was still in the room turned back to look at me once again. “I really don’t mind. It’s not like I got seriously injured. If he doesn’t want to apologize, it won’t kill me.”

Now Purple Eyes looked at me with a relaxed expression. “That’s just the way he is. My bad for this rude welcome. Usually, I can keep him in line. I assure you that he is the only one in our school like this. He is special that way.”

Damian sighed loudly and walked out of the room. The boy with the purple eyes ignored him and added, “My name is Car.”

Car? And they say my name is weird.

Car was about 5 feet 11 inches tall and had dark brown hair. He wore a black V-neck T-shirt with a jean jacket and dark pants. His muscles were well defined, and it was obvious he worked hard to get the definition he had. His shoulders were broad. His physique looked like that of a football player. He had great cheekbones and a strong jawline.

Damian, on the other hand, had a lean body type and an angular face. He seemed as if he’d be a good swimmer. He had shaggy black hair that grew a little into his eyes. He was a bit taller than Car, and he had green eyes. He also looked a couple of years older than Car, even though they were in the same class. Both were intimidating to me. No matter how welcoming Car seemed, they were too good looking. Everyone was over the little argument and on his or her way to second-period class. Car picked up my books and gave them to me.

“What do you have in that binder? It feels like you pack it in,” he said playfully as he rubbed his back jokingly, obviously not hurt by the impact of my binder and textbook. “Where’s your next class? I can walk you there if you like. You kind of give off a new-person vibe. You wouldn’t want to get caught up in the hallways looking around lost, newbie.”

I gladly accepted his offer, for he was right; I would get lost in this school, even though it was easier to navigate than my old school, which had two different buildings.

“My next class is baking,” I said.

Car’s whole face lit up; even his purple eyes smiled. “That’s my next class too. What a coincidence. It’s just down this hallway here.”

As he led the way with me trailing his steps with precision, I had some time to myself to think. I had noticed something odd about a few of the people there. Unlike Car, no one had any noticeable feature that stood out. I wondered why. Maybe Damian’s eyes were a little too green. I had never seen someone with just green eyes; green eyes usually had brown or blue mixed in. It was as if he were a real, live Photoshop image. Caught up in my wonderings, I didn’t realize Car had stopped, causing me to walk right into his back and nudge him forward just a hair. As he turned around to see what had happened, my whole face turned red. It was bad enough he had felt obliged to walk me to class, but now I was being mindless and unfocused. He saw my red face and smiled, a gesture I had gotten used to.

“Jeez, I didn’t know I was that magnetic—first your books and now you.” He chuckled, his body shaking a little with his quiet laughter.

Could this be any more awkward? I was glad when we finally arrived. The problem was that because of my distracted attitude earlier and my slow pace in the hallway, we’d arrived late. We had arrived right after roll call, and all the seats had been assigned—students’ choice, of course. I was pleased that we had arrived late so that I wouldn’t have to go through that whole awkward new-kid phase.

There were only two seats left in the classroom, and Car and I were the last two kids to arrive, so yours truly got to be partnered with him. I was glad he was stuck with me, because he seemed to have adopted me as his official new kid.

“Hello. I do not appreciate anyone arriving late, so please do not make it a habit. Sit down.”

Mrs. Shire was a bit of a tightly wound knot. She scared me a little, so I did as she said without so much as one side glance at Car. I sat down quickly as the teacher went on about the rules of her class. I sat there awkwardly, trying not to notice the replica of an angel sitting next to me.

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