Burned - deep wounds.

She got marked. Burned.
Her wounds are deep and sore, but they will start to heal.
And once their healed, she will be complete.

Kayla is not a typical type of maincharacter. She's lost her family and living on her own has marked her far worse than the three black dots on her underarm.
The three dots stands for that she is now, a part of the magical world.
Will she push everybody away, like she has been doing in the past five years?
Or will someone come through to her? And will she ever be healed completely?

But more importantly; will she be able to heal the world?

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3. My New Nickname

 

A loud ringing noise wakes me up. I try to make it stop by hammering my fist at the not existing alarm clock on my not existing nightstand. Instead I hurt my fingers on the sharp edge of me and Cindy's dresser.

I bury my weak fingers under the clean, white covers and I smother a wail between my tweaked lips. I force my tired eyes to open just a little bit, but everything around me is just one big blur of different shades of white. I close my eyes again and point one of my fingers at my ear while thinking: Inauritus. Nothing happens, the ringing keeps drilling into my brain. I try the 'deaf-spell' again out loud “INAURITUS”; Still nothing.

“Spells like those won't work here, Kayla” Cindy's powerful voice reaches my ear before I try the spell again. I can now feel her cool breath very close to my ear “Sorry, but this might hurt a little bit”

Before I have time to argue, a strong, feminine hand grabs my wrist and pulls me out of my warm, comfortable bed. I hit the floor hard and I open my eyes, when I feel a strong pain running up my tailbone. I whisper a wide range of profanity, while I slowly get up from the floor.

“What the hell, Cindy?!” I yell at my little – but terrifying – roommate.

“Sorry, but that's the only way to make it stop” I hardly notice Cindy's blushed face, as I discover that the noise has stopped.

“How?” I finally (after a few minutes just standing, enjoying the silence) ask her.

She has gained her usually pale skin tone when she answers me: “Well, SOEC have made this alarm system in every room.” I interrupt her without feeling sorry about it – I can still clearly feel a bruise taking shape on my lower back.

“You say SOEC, but isn't there a headmaster or something like that?” Cindy is clearly trying to hide a pair of sky-facing eyes, but she answers me anyway “Yes, there is a headmaster; Mrs. Flyker” Mrs. Flyker. I feel like I've heard the name before. I don't think more about it, cause I'm pretty sure it was standing somewhere in my letter of admission. 

“Anyway, you were saying?” I let her continue about the alarm system.

“Yes, it works like this; in every room – every morning at six – in SOEC there has been cast an 'alarm-spell’ that rings until every person in the room is out of bed.” She looks at my confused face and adds: “Annoying, yes. But very effective” 

 

The clock is 6:22 and I got no possible idea on what to do next, I've begun to regret not reading my letter completely. All of my roommates have already left, which leaves me in an unbelievable awkward situation. I try to follow my usual routine, but the first thing on my agenda gives me problems already. I have got to find myself a bathroom.

I obviously can't just walk out of my room wearing pajamas; I have no intentions of establishing that image in anyone's head. Therefor I have to find myself some proper clothing. I open the dresser who caused me my first pain this morning. I pull on some jeans and a grey top; I think that will work just fine for a quick visit in the bathroom.

There are already a lot of people on the different floors, not to mention the marble hall. Seriously, how early do these people get up? I run down the fifth floor and as quick as a cat (or maybe something closer to a walrus) I reach the marble hall.

The whole atmosphere reminds me a lot of The Hall; to many people, stressing by, without noticing each other. Really depressing.

I point my finger out in the middle of the crowd and hope to hit a helping shoulder. Instead I end up poking a guy in the eye.

 

My first instinct is to duck or simple just run away, but of course I can do nothing else than just stand here like an idiot, who thinks it’s fun to poke people in the eye.

 I don't recognize him at first, but when he turns around and let his hand fall from his eye down in his pocket, there's no doubt.

“Hi. It’s Matt, right?” Genius, just genius. He's eye has turned red and I curse me and my finger far, far away. He blinks a few times before he answers. “Yeah. Kayla, right?” Okay, so he isn't the aggressive type. I nod and the awkward silence begins. He begins to fidgeting a little and I glance at his swollen eye. I break the silence with a (careful) point over my left shoulder. “Anyways, I better go” I turn around, but his strong hands grabs my shoulder and stops me. It’s a gentle and soft touch, but my instincts make my body react before my brain can stop me. I turn around and I bang my firm fist right in the middle of his stomach.

Everybody in the hall turns their attention towards me – the psycho girl. Matt is stooping while coughing a lot of light red spit out on the clean, shiny floor. I keep my poker-face on for as long as possible, before people start running towards Matt. I see this as a good way to sneak out before more accusingly faces makes my careless looking mask crack.

But as I slowly back up the stairs; a small, soft hand locks around my elbow in a soft grip.

 

My first day and I’m already in trouble - the punishable kind of trouble.  I’m in office number a18, sitting in a leather armchair in between Matt and a tall girl named Jade. In front of me, behind a gigantic white desk, in a chair very similar my own, sits Ms. McStea – the school counselor.

“I will start off, by introducing myself as Ms. Mary McStea; your counselor” Ms. McStea smiles like we’re at a tea party and haven’t just been in a fight. I think she’s just that type of person, who feels uncomfortable not smiling.

Anyways, she keeps smiling as she says: “Well, Ms. Colette; why don’t you start off by telling what you saw?”

Jade raises her small hand to brush her long, straight and blonde hair behind her right ear. “I don’t even know why I’m here? I didn’t punch anyone!”

“I know, Ms. Colette, but for me to get to the bottom of this incident, I need to hear three versions and hope they’re all the same” Ms. McStea continues talking with her soothe voice, that I usually would hate, but it feels calming when she keeps talking. She makes me instantly trust her and that scares me.
“You, Ms. Colette, are “The Witness”. Mr. Loop is “The Victim” and Ms. Malick is “The Bully””

The words excuse me, are ringing in my ears and I control myself from kicking Jades elegant crossed legs, when she giggles at the word “Bully”.

“Well, I was talking with some friends and all of the sudden I see that girl beating Matt up, like some crazy thug!” I must admit, Jades got an excellent talent for over-dramatizing the situation.

Ms. McStea nods and looks at Matt “Will you respond to that, Mr. Loop?”

I look at Matt, since he’s not really responding and to my surprise, he looks angry. He finally opens his mouth and says: “It’s not what happened.”
I smile at Jades offended face expression and feel unbelievably happy, when Ms. Mcstea doesn’t correct him, like teachers normally do: “There is no right or wrong here”. 

Matt doesn’t even notice Jade and just keeps going on: “It started like this; I was on my way to the dinner hall, when Kayla poked me in the eye.” Ms. McStea looks confused and I completely understand her.

“We talked for a bit”, that’s an overstatement, “and she turned around to walk away, but I stopped her and that’s when she punched me”, he looks directly at Jade and adds: “Once.

I’m surprised he didn’t go with Jades version of the story, but I’m thankful he didn’t. 

“Okay, Ms. Malick is that what happened?” I think about my options for explaining. First, why I poked him in his eye; and second, why I punched him in his stomach – but it will just sound more stupid, than it already does.

“Yes, I did it intentionally”, even though it sounds incredibly mean, that’s what people like Ms. McStea wants to hear, so they can close the case.

I know this, because I was once arrested for stealing, when I was 13. I remember sitting in a cold room with an officer, who just wanted to hear the five words, I said when he asked me the same question, Ms. McStea just did.

 

“Well that settles it, then. Ms. Colette you can leave now” Jade glides out of the office with such a superior attitude, you would think, she was the captain of the cheerleader team and had just mocked a junior (which, now that I think about it, she actually just did).

The intense silence would’ve strangled me if Ms. McStea hadn’t returned to Matt: “Matt, since you both claim, you didn’t do anything wrong, you won’t get punished”, she turns her head to me and says “but for you, Kayla; you will attend to one hour of detention, three times a week, until Christmas. If Matt approves this as a fair punishment?”

Matt looks just as chocked as me. She really isn’t kidding? Three hours a week until Christmas!?

 “Sounds fair to me” Matts voice could’ve made the glass of water on Ms. McStea’s table freeze.

“Okay, then. Mr. Loop, you can go now” Matt slams the door into office a18 and I close my eyes to the cool sense of disappointment, he leaves in the chair next to me.

 

“Kayla, why did you really do it?” Ms. McStea calls me by my first name and it instantly makes her more real and I look at her. Her friendly and understanding, grey eyes with spots of green in them. Her round and chubby face isn’t smiling anymore and her kindness shocks me.
“I was looking for directions”, which I still am, “but, instead of hitting his shoulder, I kind of got the eye instead”. She instantly fills the silence: “And the punch?”
I sigh and can’t seem to find a respond that doesn’t make me look like a psychopath, “I don’t know”.

Just the way Ms. McStea looks at me, makes me change my answer: “I mean, it felt like he was trying to attack me”.

Ms. McStea doesn’t look at me strangely, like I thought she would. She just says: “Why didn’t you say that earlier?”

 

I have never been to detention before, since I have always been homeschooled by my mom – I haven’t been to school since I was 11. That’s why the classes kind of scare me. I mean, I have a huge hole in my education, really I’m only on at a 6’Th graders level.

Ms. McStea gave me a map over the school when I left her office, but I’m still completely thrown out of course. There’s no one in the Marble Hall and I don’t know for how long I was in Ms. McStea’s office with Ms. Cheerleader and the Iceman.

I look at my map and decide to go to the bathroom first (after all, that’s why I came down here in the first place). The map takes me down the corridor next to the one with all the offices. Instead of the usual white wallpaper, this corridor is filled with white lockers, with a nametag on each of them. It will take forever to find my own little name on all the lockers, so I keep going for the toilets.

A bit further down the corridor, I stand before a frosted glass double door that ,on the map, should be the entrance to the girl’s bathroom.

 

I can’t remember the last time I’ve felt this against entering a room. Even though, I have tried to make myself as slow as possible, I’m still standing in front of office A12, where my first history class starts in three minutes.

I open the white door as soon as the loud ringing noise, from this morning, makes an awful loud echo in the Marble Hall, and keeps ringing down all the corridors. Before I step into the giant classroom, I see tons of student swarm out of all the offices.

“Hello, looks like you’re my first student to step into my classroom this semester”. A man behind a big desk is framed by thousands of books, which are nicely stacked in front of him. He’s smiling, and I won’t call it an answer, but I give him some sort of grunt, to acknowledge that I heard what he said to me.

He begins to collect the books from his table, and place them in bookcases, around the classroom.

“Could you please pass out all the brown books around the tables?” He keeps going on with the other books, and I understand that I don’t really have a choice. I walk over to the desk and grab one of the books: Our Proud History by Gregg Holden.

“What a title, huh?” I mumble and start to pass out the heavy books.

“Yes, Its classic for the MCG to write like that” He doesn’t stop his rhythm with the books, but I didn’t actually expect an answer.

“I didn’t choose it, though – I’m obligated to teach it”

I nod, and put the last book on a table in the back.

The door behind me opens and I take a seat at the table in the corner. After the two girls who just walked in, and took two seats up front, about twenty more students come in.

They all seem to take the seats up front, besides two Goth-looking girls, who take the two seats next to me.

“Welcome, class. I am so very pleased to be your history teacher this year, and I will promise you, I’m going to teach you so much more, than that crappy old book, lying in front of you!” My new history teacher doesn’t seem to impress anyone, but his tall body seems confident. He looks to be in his 30’s, and kind of like those guys on the front of magazines – which is very unusual for a history teacher.

He turns towards the 4 meter broad board, at the end of the classroom, and writes his name with big, sweeping letters: Michael Jaw.

 

The book turns out to be just as boring as the brown cover, and the small golden letters: Our Proud History, by Gregg Holden.

“I will now divide you into groups of four, and you will go study our subject on, teleportation” Mr. Jaw doesn’t get to continue, before a girl on first row raises her hand.

“But, Mr. Jaw, there’s almost nothing about teleportation in this book” She sounds sincerely worried.

“Yes, Ms. Planquet, but you will all have access to the library, where you will find much more about the subject”

“She had to ask, huh?” To my surprise, the girl next to me was whispering to me. Mr. Jaw smiles to the class and asks if there are more questions and the girl raises her hand again.

“No, he had to ask” I whisper back, and she chuckles quietly.

Mr. Jaw starts to divide us into groups, but since we are 23 students in class, I got in the last group, with the two girls next to me.

“Follow me to the library, everyone” Mr. Jaw waves us towards the door as one of the girls from my group asks me about my name.

“Kayla” I almost don’t get to finish the word, before a girl interrupts me.

“Oh, why don’t you tell them who you really are, bully! I mean, I just don’t think it is fair, to sit in the back, trashing your teacher like that, Kayla – haven’t you done enough damage for today?” Jade finishes her little speech with a smile, and turns around towards the door.

The two girls look at me a little confused and I just say: “that works too”.

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