Chapter One: Of What Is Past, Is Passing, Or Is To Come
Chapter One: Of what is Past, or Passing, or to Come
I can’t remember much about my past. I guess that’s a bad thing. The first thing I clearly remember is Zhandra. She was there, holding my hand and leading me into . . . well, probably only trouble. It’s funny how someone can completely take over your life and make you forget everything else.
I guess my life begins and ends with her. I must not have been much before her. None of us remembers being anything but the four as a unit.
All of us have freaky green eyes help too.
We don’t cause a lot of
trouble. We rule the club scene. More specifically, Morgan’s. Zhandra is the Queen.
We’ve all got our faults. I smoke too damn much. Dugray parties too much. Marz drinks too much. And Zhandra’s sin? Zhandra is sin when she walks. Sin when she talks. And she rules with an iron will.
I still smoke. Dugray still parties. Marz still drinks. And Zhandra still reigns supreme.
As a rule, we don’t come out much during daylight hours. Well, they don’t. Me, I people watch. Out of us all, I blend in better. You can identify the others as club kids. They can’t help being what they are.
I usually sit in the park, smoking in peace. My eyes scare the people I watch. Or, they normally do. Hell, even cops quicken their pace once they catch a glimpse of my eyes. I don’t really get it though.
I was sitting in the park. It was a Wednesday afternoon. She was coming out of a clothing store. She couldn’t have been much more than seventeen. Baby-faced brunette. She struck me as the forever kind. Which is really weird, because I could see her as my forever kind. Which is even weirder because I’d never even thought that far ahead.
And then I saw who she was walking with, and I felt my heart hit my shoes. Zhandra. They made their way into another store, and for the first time in a long time, I was compelled to follow. As they split up, I tailed the brunette.
She led me to the lingerie department. Her hands were flipping through the different types of panties.
She jumped at the sound of my voice. I couldn’t help from grinning. She turned to face me, her grip on a hanger tightening. She gave me the once over before turning her gaze to my face.
“Hey.” I said.
“Hi.” Her voice sounded husky.
“I saw you come in here, and thought might as well welcome you to town.”
“How did you know I was new in town?”
“I just figured I would have seen you at Morgan’s before now.”
“Well, I’m not much of a party girl . . . “
“I’m Deacon Mathers.” I reached my hand for hers.
I regretted the next words that slipped from my lips. But I had to say it to her.
“Look, that girl you came in her with? Stay away from her. She’s trouble. I don’t want that kind of trouble to get to you.” I leaned forward and kissed her cheek. She jumped a foot.
I turned and left the store . . . hoping I had gotten through to her before she ended up like me.
* the title is from Yeats "Sailing to Bysantium"