The Boy With the Silver Eyes ~A NaNoWriMo Entry~

When a new boy named Peter Menard comes to their high school, Best friends Sarah Wagner and Alex Haisgen know there's something different about him. When the truth is revealed, a whirlwind of lies, jealousy, and hatred stirs. An old rivalry begins again, and Sarah is right in the middle of it. Sarah must travel to a world were magic, monsters, sprites, and fairies roam. Will she succeed, or will her life end as she knows it?
Cover created by Willow Angel.

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3. Chapter 2

November 2nd-3rd, 2015

*Their Junior Year*

Sarah’s POV:

“Hey, Sarah, did you do the math homework last night? I couldn’t figure out problem five,” Alex said as he jogged beside me. Rolling my eyes, I said, “Alex, you’re a junior in high school, you should know to do your homework,” Alex gave me his best puppy-dog eyes and stuck out his bottom lip. “Pwease, Sawah? Pwetty, pwetty pwease?” he begged, making him sound like his was five. “Not the puppy-dog eyes!” I said, blocking my face and trying not to laugh. Sighing, I gave in and handed Alex my worksheet. When Alex saw my answer, he glared at me playfully. “Sarah, how did you know that answer?! I bet most of the seniors don’t understand that problem!” he growled, shoving me a little. We laughed and went our separate ways. My first period class was English, my worst subject.

“Miss Wagner, may I ask why you are late to class?” said Mr. Furtz, the teacher, as I entered the classroom. The bell then rang and I rolled my eyes at him. He glared at me, but apologized for his ‘apparent mistake’, insisting that I wasn’t the only one this happened to. “Yeah, right, bird-brains,” I muttered under my breath. “What was that, Sarah?” “Oh, nothing, Sir,” I said in a sickly-sweet voice. He glared at me as I took my seat and pulled out my English books. He began to speak again and I zoned out, doodling on my notebook. I couldn’t understand what he was saying, something about…the Trojan Empire? I really didn’t care.

“Miss Wagner, please answer the question!” Mr. Furtz snapped, rapping his ruler on my desk. Jolting to attention, I quickly looked at him. “Um, I’m sorry sir; could you please repeat the question?” I said sheepishly, fiddling with my pencil. Mr. Furtz huffed in annoyance, but he repeated the question. “What did Aeneas take with him when he left Troy?” he said smugly, probably relishing in my obvious discomfort. C’mon, Sarah. You know this! I thought, searching my brain for the answer.  My shoulders slumped and shook my head. “I don’t know; I’m sorry,” I muttered. Mr. Furtz sighed and addressed the rest of the class. “Some people say that Aeneas took the Palladium, a wooden statue that fell from the Heavens and into Troy. The Trojans kept it safe in their city, believing that it would protect them,” he said, giving me a pointed look. I rolled my eyes and crossed my arms. When his back was turned, I stuck my tongue out at him. A couple of kids snickered, and I smirked.

The remainder of the class was spent reading parts of “The Odyssey”, a Greek poem that was the size of a freaking dictionary! I bet not a single one of us understood a word. It was so complicated and…weird! The bell rang and I got out of that overcrowded classroom as fast as my legs could carry me. Someone knocked into me and I fell to the ground, my books flying everywhere. “I’m so sorry, let me help you!” a voice said, carrying a sharp Slovak accent. I looked up to reply and found myself looking into a pair of the most beautiful electric blue eyes I had ever seen. The boy got up, some of my books in hand. He had delicate, almost elfish features. He was very, very good looking. His hair was platinum blonde, almost white. His electric blue eyes seemed to pierce into my soul. His pale, porcelain skin was the color of freshly fallen snow. His stone cold hands brushed mine as he handed me my books, sending a chill up my spine. “Sorry about that. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get to my class…if I can find it,” he sighed, beginning to walk away.

“W…wait up! What class do you have? I can help you find it!” I said, sending a smile his way. He raised an eyebrow at me. “I have physical education,” he said warily. I smiled. “I do too! Let’s go.” The boy and I weaved through the surging crowd of high school students, fighting our way towards the gym. By the time we reached it, we were both sweaty and panting for breath. “Who knew that students could be so hard to get around?” the boy said. I shrugged. “Hey, I never got your name. Mine’s Sarah,” I said. The boy smiled slightly. “I’m Peter Menard,” he said quietly. I smiled and we went into the gym. When I saw the neat rows of soccer balls and a makeshift soccer goal at the other side of the gym, my eyes lit up and my heart did a little victory dance inside my chest. “Oh, you play football?” Peter said. “Um…it’s called soccer here in America, but yeah, I play it,” I said. After showing Peter where the entrance to the boys’ locker room was, I went into the girls’ locker room and changed into my gym outfit; a gray and black t-shirt with black shorts and sneakers. Going out into the gym, I stood in my usual place as the teacher took attendance.

“Alright, as you all can probably see, we’re playing soccer today! I’ll choose two team captains and they can pick their teams. Unless you want to do boys vs. girls,” the gym teacher, Ms. Hoffman, said. A loud cheer erupted throughout the gym as the boys and girls separated. Girls ended up playing defense first, and I got stuck with being the goalie. I sighed and quickly pulled my long, mousy brown hair back into a high pony tail. I glared at the other team’s goalie, Decarri Wayward, and he glared back, his long black hair dangling over his coffee brown eyes. The coach blew the whistle, signaling the start of the game. I watched the other players as they struggled to make a goal. The students were easy to block; I caught there balls almost carelessly.

 All the students in my class were weaklings; they would get trampled if they played on a soccer team, like me. The boys were winning 9-2 though. Some kids were powerful enough, and Decarri was a good goalie. Peter began making his way towards me with the ball. I crouched, ready to block his shot. As he came closer and closer, I could see how gracefully he played. He seemed to fly when he jumped over and past other players. He got past his opponents with mocking ease, a smirk on his face. His legs were a blur.

As he approached the goal, the other players on the floor stopped, watching for Peter to make the shot. He kicked the ball. It flew straight and true…right through my hands. The boys erupted into cheers, clapping Peter on the back and sticking their tongues out at the girls. Peter looked uncomfortable with all of the attention, but he tried to smile and even high-fived some of the guys. He went through all the girls, congratulating them on a good match. We played several more matches after that, and the guys beat us every time. One girl got a bloody nose because she head butted the ball too hard. It was hilarious! Well, kind of.

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