Page 15 of Savage Hope

“Good morning, class. Today is going to open and proceed a little differently than usual,” she starts, and the dread swirling in my stomach intensifies.

She's calm, way too calm. Her voice is almost melodic, as sweet as a lullaby, and I don't believe it for a second.

“Instead of coming to you today with our usual classes, we celebrate the eldest person in the class reaching their eighteenth birthday,” she states, her gaze turning to the quiet short girl in the back of the class. V. Her hair is jet black, her eyes even blacker.

She immediately recoils at the attention she gets from around the room, likely wishing everyone was looking anywhere but at her, and I can't help but acknowledge and understand that feeling. I've never spoken to V. She's owned her spot on the asphalt just as much as I’ve owned mine. We've never even exchanged a smile. But now, as I look at her, a sense of guilt consumes me as I consider the fact that I could have done more to make this person feel…better? But I quickly suppress it, because actually, that's not my job. No one's here to make me feel safe or comfortable. Well, maybe S, but I think that’s more for her savior complex and less to do with me.

The truth is, I can’t save anyone from the path we’re on. If I could, I would be helping myself first. “Everybody, please join me in wishing V a Happy Birthday.”

A chorus of Happy Birthdays murmur through the room, making V's cheeks burn bright with embarrassment before everyone turns back to Mrs. Stephens.

The crooked smile on her face only seems to amplify, making my concern grow stronger.

“Now that that’s over, the fifteen of you are all progressing together, as each of you will come across your significant birthday over the course of the next six months. I'm sure you've always wondered where everybody goes when they leave here, so I suppose it’s time you find out.” Her announcement descends over the room with the weight I can only assume she intended.

Panic now seeps into every cell in my body, clogging my throat, leaving me gasping for breath.

I was right. I don't want to know.I don't want to know.She needs to stop talking right now, please, right now.

My toes curl in my shoes, my nails slip back to my palms, so harsh I'm certain I’m going to break the skin.

“Mrs. Stephens, what do you mean?” The tremble in S’s voice is clear, but I can’t turn to look at her. It will only make my spiral deepen.

If Mrs. Stephens notices it, she pays me no mind. Instead, she beams, spreading her arms out wide as she proceeds with the speech she’s pieced together for us today. “Well, today is the day you finally get to figure out what progression looks like. Today is the day you leave this school.”

Gasps ring out around me, the panic I feel inside floods the room as others drown in it too, and this time, I know it's not just me. I've never been the only one worried about it, but they have always done a much better job at hiding it than me.

S reaches for my hand, bending her fingers tightly around mine, and I feel the tremble that I heard in her voice. I clench my eyes tightly shut for a brief second before I pry them open and turn to her. When our gazes collide, her fear is on full display.

“It’s nothing to fear. Really, you should be thankful for the new law that was enforced last year. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be enjoying this as much. I would be, but that’s out of my control,”Mrs. Stephens explains, a villainous snicker rattling from her lips. “Now, we must do what is deemed right, and that means your journey here has come to an end.”

I squeeze S’s hand right back, trying to swallow past the lump bulging in my throat, but it’s impossible.

“Mrs. Stephens, we can't go anywhere.”

“It's not time.”

“This can’t be possible!”

Students shout out around the room and I watch as the teacher's eyes darken.

“It's not time? Of course it is time,” she snaps, irritation flashing across her face, but the way the corner of her mouth tilts up confirms she loves any opportunity to raise her voice, and this is one of them.

“But we're supposed to be twenty-one, that’s when the blood kin curse changes,” T grunts, running his fingers through his hair as he sits stiff in his seat two rows in front of me.

“Ah, this is the part I enjoy,” Mrs. Stephens practically sings as she walks around her desk to perch against it. Her fingers curl around the wood as she gleams at each of us and the room falls into silence, waiting for whatever bomb she’s about to drop.

My bones tense as I gape at the woman holding everyone captive.

“What you must know about a blood kin, is that they are supernatural beings.”

My pulse thrums in my ears as I watch her lips move without understanding a single word that slips past them.

That's not possible.

Supernatural?

We’re not supernatural.

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