Catelyn Winona
patreon
Narrative Town (2nd Person)
🕑 Added 2022-05-20 23:33:09 +0000 UTCSummary: You don't ever want to be the main character. In your town, that's deadly. Someone has to warn the new kid.
----
Someone has got to tell the new kid in town the Rules.
“Hey,” you say.
The new kid looks up at you. He’s sitting at his desk in the back corner of the classroom, right next to the windows. It’s a chilly day, but he’s got the window open so that the breeze ruffles his curly, black hair. “What’s up? Fern, right?”
“Don’t call me by my name,” you snarl. Then, realizing what you’ve done, you look over your shoulder. The other teenagers are still looped around the teacher’s desk, trying to get Ms. Slauson to move the test date so they could organize a welcome part for the new kid. “I need to talk to you. Privately.”
The new kid leans back in his chair and studies you. You know what he sees – a completely average high school girl in jeans, a sweatshirt, and a ponytail. There’s nothing remarkable about you. He tilts his head. “You don’t look like a bully.”
You frown. “I’m not.”
“You’re being awfully threatening,” he says in a drawl.
The accent is going to be a problem. It’s southern and sounds really cool. Honestly, it might be too late for him already.
But you still have to try.
“Meet me on the rooftop—no!” You press the heel of one hand against your eye. Fight it, you tell yourself. Fight it! “Meet me at the supermarket on Western Street. The dairy aisle. After school.”
“Okay…?”
You spin on your heel, head throbbing. Meeting on the rooftop is against the rules. You glance up at the ceiling uneasily. You’re not usually affected by the compulsion so badly. Are you being targeted?
If you were smart, you wouldn’t show up to the meeting. You’d just let the guy get sucked into the madness on his own.
But you also really need to buy some milk.
---------------------------------.
To your surprise, the new kid meets you in the dairy aisle after school. He actually gets there before you and you find him frowning at the selection.
“I’ve never heard of these brands before,” he says. He points to one. “Moo-ilk? That’s not a thing.”
“It is here,” you say. Like you’d hoped, the supermarket is nearly empty. It won’t stay that way for long. “That’s what I need to talk to you about, new kid.”
He turns to look at you. You’re tall for your age, so you stand eye to eye. “My name is Caiden.”
“I know,” you say. “You should stop telling people your name, especially when it’s such a cool one. It’s safer to just be a nameless face in the crowd.”
“That’s deep,” Caiden says. His drawl is clearly sarcastic. “That can’t be what you wanted to tell me.”
It’s not my problem if he doesn’t believe me, you tell yourself. You take a deep breath. “It’s part of it. This town is magic and the school is the heart of it. It forces people to live out popular tropes. If you’re popular or interesting in any way, it makes you the main character.” You take in the number of pockets on his black pants. “Unfortunately, you’re probably the coolest person to transfer everand the magic is going to target you big time.”
Caiden stares at you. “You’re saying magic is real.”
“Yeah,” you say. You glance over his shoulder towards the front of the store. You can see shadows slanting through the windows as the sun starts to set. “All sorts. It depends what type of story you get pulled into.”
“But the main magic,” Caiden says, “is in the town itself which forces people to act like main characters?”
“Some people,” you say. You point at his trio of long necklaces. “Is that a wolf?”
Caiden looks down at the metal pendant. “It’s my favorite animal.”
“You are in so much danger,” you marvel. That’s the coolest thing you’ve ever heard. He also has a necklace that looks like an ancient coin and the other is a shark tooth. “The magic is definitely going to make you a main character.”
Caiden opens his mouth, closes it, then asks, “Are you insane?”
It really depends on what he thinks insane means. But going into that actually does make you sound insane, so you just sigh and shake your head. “You don’t believe me.”
“No.” Caiden doesn’t sound angry. He almost sounds apologetic. “I don’t.”
The bell at the front of the store rings. You reflexively look to see who came in. You see tennis rackets and gym clothes before you make yourself look away. A sports team, probably from a rival school. That…could be safe. Or safer. If they’re the first people he runs into, he might actually survive without having to believe you. “That’s fine. You do you.”
“…okay?” Caiden says.
He doesn’t follow you as you grab a gallon of milk and beeline for the self-checkout. You pass the tennis team in the aisle. They smell like sunscreen and don’t notice you dart past them.
“Hey,” you hear one of them say. They’re looking at Caiden. “I’ve never seen that guy around before.”
Another one hums. “There’s something about him. He looks…strong.”
“Why’s he just standing by the milk?”
You grab your purchase and calmly walk out the door.
------------------.
It’s a month after Caiden first transferred when he marches up to your desk after the last bell rings and says, “You. I need to talk to you.”
You look up at him from under your bangs, hands stilling on the open textbook. Caiden looks a lot different. He’s always dressed in a tennis club uniform now and his wild, curly hair is held away from his face by a sweatband. He’s a little sunburned and there is a bandage wrapped from wrist to shoulder on his right arm. Your eyes dart down to see a matching bandage wrapped around his left ankle.
“Please,” Caiden says when the silence stretches too long. His voice cracks. “I was wrong. I was—”
You close your textbook with a snap. You weren’t really studying anyway. Studying makes you look like a background character, but the ace of the tennis team coming to talk to you cancels it out. “There’s a dentist on 3rd Street. Meet me there in an hour.”
“A dentist?” Caiden asks, bewildered. He dumbly moves out of your way when you stand to go. “Why a—”
“Not here,” you hiss. “Dentist office.”
You rush out of class before anyone notices him talking to you.
-------------------.
The first time this town killed one of your friends, you didn’t know about the magic.
You were just a kid, barely thirteen, and new in town. You didn’t know what you were doing when you decided you wanted the quiet girl in class to befriend. Jeanine always sat by the windows, staring out into the school’s courtyard by herself. Her black braids swung on either side of her face and her glasses were pressed high on the bridge of her nose.
You introduced yourself to her, complimented her on her book, and asked if she’d like to have lunch. Sometimes you remember the smile she gave you in that first moment. Surprised, vulnerable, secretly pleased. You treasure that moment where you were just two girls looking for friends. You remember all her smiles over that blissful period where you went to the bookstore and the library, to the movies and to sleepovers, to parties and to concerts.
Sometimes remembering those smiles even helps you forget the painful one she gave you before she lost her life saving yours.
-----------------.
Caiden is pacing in front of the dentist’s office when you arrive. The street is deserted and there’s a faded Closed sign in the window.
Caiden jerks his thumb at the sign. “It’s closed.”
“Yeah,” you say. There’s a little bench in front of the office where patients are invited to wait for their appointment. You take a seat and gesture for him to do the same. “Very few stories start at the dentist and, those that do, always start when it’s open. It’s unlikely we’ll run into any trouble here.”
Caiden clutches his bandaged arm, looking over his shoulder as if checking for pursuers. “So location is part of it? Even just…walking down the street can trigger it?”
“Depends which street,” you say. You twist so you can put one foot up on the bench, angling your body towards him as he sits next to you. “Setting is an important part of the story.”
“Okay,” Caiden says. He breathes in through his nose and out through his mouth. “Sorry. I just—sorry. Thank you for talking to me. I know I didn’t believe you—”
“It’s hard to believe,” you say, “even without the magic.” You nod your head at his arm. “You okay?”
Caiden looks down at his arm as if he forgot about the bandages. “Oh, this? I’m not injured.” He unravels the strips to show unblemished skin. “Mark – the tennis team captain? – he’s worried about spies from other schools. I’m pretending to be hurt so they think I’m out of commission.”
“Thus giving you the element of surprise when you face them at Nationals next week,” you say with understanding. You eye the other bandage. “And your ankle?”
Caiden laughs. It’s not a joyful laugh. It sounds a little hysterical. “No, no, that’s real. I got invited to a drama club after party and spent most of Saturday night running away from a werewolf. I sprained it in the woods.”
“The Drama Club President is a werewolf,” you say. If he’d believed you a month ago, you would have warned him. You were there when she got bitten, but you managed to escape that particular story by pretending to faint. “She’s really had a lot of character growth since she got bit. She used to be super mean before.”
“Oh, as long as it’s for character growth,” Caiden says sarcastically. He scrubs a hand over his face. “We barely got away. It was only because the track team was there that we managed to run her into exhaustion.” He looks up at you. “I think—I think she’s going to kill someone one day.”
“She already has,” you say. When Caiden’s eyes widen, you wave a hand. “It was a bad guy who was trying to turn our entire school into werewolves. We actually owe her a lot for managing to contain that particular plot.”
“How is she going to put that on a college application?” he asks.
You point at him. “See, that right there is why you’re already so deep into a story. Being funny when you should be panicking is basically a requirement for protagonists.”
“I’m panicking,” Caiden assures you. He points to himself emphatically. “I’m definitely panicking.”
“Good,” you say, “that means the magic doesn’t have complete control over you yet. I was worried. Nationals isn’t supposed to be for another four months. I thought the accelerated schedule was a sign you’d completely become the main character.”
“How do I get out of this?” Caiden pulls at his jersey. “I don’t even like tennis! I don’t even know how I joined the club, I didn’t sign up for anything. I don’t know how I got the equipment. My dad didn’t buy it for me.”
“Those details aren’t necessary for the story you’re in,” you say. You pick up your backpack and unzip the main pocket. “I have some Rules to avoid getting sucked into a role. No meeting people in Big Settings, first of all.”
“Big Settings?”
“The lunchroom, the roof, the community pool, the lake, a love interest’s house, anywhere after curfew, etcetera,” you rattle off. You pull out a copy of The Rules and hand it to him. Even now, the mix of your handwriting and Jeanine’s sends a spike of sorrow through you. “There are some pretty specific ones on there too. I suggest you read through them all and pick out the common themes.”
The sun is getting dangerously low. You keep one eye on Caiden as he scans through the six pages of photocopied rules and one eye on the street. A couple cars pass by, but they’re all normal sedans. The moment you see a motorcycle or a van it’ll be time to leave.
“I can’t have an accent?” Caiden looks up from the paper. “But I’m not from here! How can I control an accent?”
“You can’t,” you admit. “But don’t use any region-specific idioms. That should help.”
Caiden points at the page. “Do not go to the library’s second floor?”
“Do not go to the library’s second floor,” you agree solemnly. When Caiden stares at you, you relent. “It’s super haunted. Also all the books in the back corner are cursed.”
“How do you know that?”
“They look super cursed. In a town like this, if it looks cursed, it’s cursed.”
“I guess I can’t say I don’t believe you,” Caiden mutters. “Werewolves are real, I’m pretty sure my club captain is some sort of spymaster, and I saw a kid fall four stories and land on his feet yesterday.”
“That’s Mark’s little brother. He’s got some sort of budding superhero thing going on,” you explain.
“Superhero implies the existence of a supervillain,” Caiden says.
“I try not to think about that.” A car turns onto 3rdStreet a little too quickly. You tense and watch as a bicyclist comes screeching around the corner and pedal furiously in pursuit. “Time to go. Sunset is when rising actions get to climaxes. Read the Rules. We’ll talk about how to get you out of your current story tomorrow.”
“Wait!” Caiden scrambles up after you. “I can’t wait until tomorrow! Who know what will happen by then? A stalker could climb the trellis outside my window, or my house could catch on fire—”
“Do you have any little siblings?”
“No? What—”
“Are you going to be out after curfew tonight?”
“No, but my parents—”
“Your house won’t catch on fire then,” you say. “You’re a main character right now. The magic won’t give you a tragic back story when you’re there to stop it. I’d leave now if I were you. There’s about to be a police chase down here.”
“How could you know that?” Caiden cries out.
“Did you see that bicyclist just now?”
“From a minute ago? Yeah, but—”
“We’ll talk tomorrow. If the police see you here, you’ll get dragged into it as a witness.”
As if on cue, sirens start up a couple blocks over. You duck into a side street without waiting to see if Caiden understands.
-----------.
Your parents stop talking when you come through the front door. You set your backpack down slowly, taking them in. They’re sitting on the floor of the living room with a whole pile of newspaper articles and printed Wikipedia pages between them. They’re both dressed in all black and your mom has a grappling hook over one shoulder.
“What’s going on?” you ask.
“Costume party,” your dad says.
“Collage for my book club,” your mom says. When she hears your dad’s answer, she nods quickly. “My book club which is also a costume party.”
It’s sad to see your parents caught in the magic like this. You remember them when you were little. Your mom was an accountant, and your dad was one of the best mechanics in your hometown. Sure, they’d still been a little…odd. Your dad taught you to hotwire a car before you learned how to change the oil and your mom would bring you along into corporate fraud investigations, but that was what they wanted. Now their eccentricities make them main characters.
“Sounds fun,” you say with false cheer. You desperately want to beg them not to do whatever they’re planning. You want to plead with them to be safe. You want your dad to quit adding spy-like features to the family car and for your mom to stop breaking into the town museum. But you aren’t strong enough to protect them. You’re only strong enough to protect yourself. “I’ve got a history test tomorrow, so I’m going to study in my room. I’ll probably have my headphones in so I won’t be able to hear anything. Try not to scare me.”
Your mom’s eyes light. “We won’t bother you, sweetheart. Do you want to take some snacks to your room? So you don’t have to come in and out.”
“Thanks, Mom.” Does it hurt your parents are so eager to get you out of the way? Yes, but at least it’s an attempt to protect you.
You let your parents give you some mixed nuts, fruit, and popcorn before heading up to your room. While they plan whatever heist they’re doing tonight, you’ve got planning of your own. Caiden’s in a pretty tame story, but it’s still a story.
He’s got to get out as quietly as he can or else things will get messy.
----------.
“Let’s meet in the lunchroom after classes,” Caiden says the next morning. The circles under his eyes are even darker than they were yesterday, but his eyes are bright and alive. He ruefully gestures to his tennis uniform. “Before practice.”
You raise an eyebrow. The lunchroom will be empty, students choosing to use the more comfortable chairs and tables in the multipurpose room or library to study. “I’m impressed. That might be the only time the lunchroom will be safe.”
“I finally did my research,” Caiden says grimly. He flinches when the classroom door opens but recovers quickly. He walks away from your desk as if only passing by it, smiling easily at a fellow tennis player when they greet him.
“Hey,” the girl at the desk hisses at you. She’s a lower-level antagonist, easily identified by the bubblegum she’s always chewing. The teacher is always yelling at her for it, but she never gets in trouble unless the magic needs her to be a background character in detention. “Is it just me or is Caiden talking to you a lot?”
“I don’t think so,” you say. You frown at her like she’s the strange one, not you. “Are you feeling okay?”
Flustered, she pops a bubble and turns back to the doodles she’s scratching on her desk. “Never mind.”
Whew. That was a close one. Her words could’ve triggered a romance plot between you and Caiden with her as the third wheel. You’ve seen more than your fair share of those pan out. Best case scenario, one of you would end up studying abroad for a year. Worst case, one of you would end up dead.
Your heart races a little. Frowning for real, you press a hand to your chest. Could…could you actually have a crush on Caiden? After a moment, you shake your head. That’s ridiculous. You’re probably still feeling the adrenaline of escaping the pull of a story.
Even now, after four years, avoiding the magic still feels like a victory.
----------------.
The thing is, you used to love the magic. When Jeanine first showed you how to watch people, it was like TV come to life. The teacher is in a slow-burn romantic comedy with the principal. The tenth grader who just passed you in the hall is actually one of the most respected journalists in town. There’s going to be a musical number in the park after school because the eggs the biology club has been looking after finally hatched into the cutest baby ducklings.
You loved it. You and Jeanine would race around after school every day to check in on each story. You remember the way her jacket would puff out behind her as she jumped the last few steps in front of the auditorium. The glint of the sun off the barrette in her hair that matched the one in yours. The joy when she would turn to smile at you like what you were witnessing was for just the two of you.
It got to the point where you could guess what sort of story someone would get caught in. You and Jeanine used to place bets on the genre, the cast, the ending. It was a game. It was all a fucking game until it wasn’t.
You were naïve. You thought that being watchers protected you from the bad endings. The Rules…you thought yourself clever for making them. You never saw how incomplete they were. That’s why you didn’t notice when Jeanine became withdrawn. She never told you about the threatening letters that started to show up in her mailbox. Her parents were always away working and she didn’t have anyone to turn to.
She should have turned to you. You believe that now. If she’d just come to you sooner, then the weight of the story you’d gotten yourself tangled in would have been bearable. Or maybe you should have been able to see it. You were right there, watching. You should have seen the mysterious cloaked figures. You should have known.
You didn’t know soon enough.
Jeanine died saving you.
And now it’s your turn to save someone else.
-----------------------.
The end of the school day can’t come soon enough. When the bell finally rings, you make yourself count to ten before standing up.
Rule 14: Never be the first one out of class.
Rule 27: Never be the last one out of class.
You exit exactly in the middle of the pack. To your delight, Caiden is only a few people ahead of you. He read the Rules and he’s following them. That means this morning wasn’t a fluke. He’s still not completely bound by the magic.
He can be saved.
“Alright,” you say when you reach the lunchroom. Like you’d hoped, there’s no one there. You slam you backpack on top of a table and start pulling out folders. “I’ve got a couple ideas on how to get you out of your story.”
Caiden twirls the racket in his hands. “Can’t I just quit the club?”
“No, that’ll just turn it into a story about getting you back in time for Nationals,” you explain. You flip open the first folder. “One option is to get arrested for something. Sure, it’ll make you a criminal for a little bit, but your team won’t come looking for you. Heck, they might kick you off the team entirely.”
“If they’d come after me for quitting, don’t you think they’d just bail me out?” Caiden asks.
You pause. You didn’t think about that. “Would they even have the money to do that?”
“Mark’s estranged Dad is a millionaire,” Caiden says. He pulls out his phone and flips to a picture. “Here he is on a yacht.”
“I don’t really pay attention to the adult stories,” you say. You examine the picture. Yep, that’s definitely the start of a millionaire romance trope. “Good thing my parents are still together.”
Caiden frowns. “Mine aren’t.”
“Don’t let either of your parents meet Mark’s Dad,” you say apologetically. You flip to the next folder. “Next option is to pretend to be possessed by a famous tennis player. Then, when you lead the team to victory, you say it’s because of the ghost, the ghost gets exorcised, and the team loses interest in you when your abilities fade.”
“That’s pretty convoluted,” Caiden says. He pulls the folder towards him and examines the doodle of a ghost you did. “You don’t know if I’ll lead the team to victory.”
You scoff and gesture to him. “Look at you. Of course, you will.” Before he has a chance to respond, you reveal the last plan. “That’s why I think this one will work. Instead of leading the team to victory, you become a supporting character.” You open the folder to reveal a picture of Mark. “In short, you make Mark a main character.”
“What?” Caiden yelps. He casts a guilty glance towards the front of the lunchroom, making sure no one in the hall heard him. He lowers his voice. “You want me to sacrifice Mark? The guy’s already been through a lot!”
Caiden looks awfully heroic with the way he’s squared his shoulders. He’s genuinely a good person and if you’d meant to sacrifice Mark in his place, you’d feel very villainous right now. “No,” you say, “don’t you see? Making him the main character will actually help him.”
“How?”
“His little brother’s got powers and his dad is, apparently, a millionaire.” You hesitate. You don’t really want to say it, but you don’t think Caiden’s quite understood what it means to be surrounded by main characters. “The way it is now, Mark is in danger.”
Caiden goes still. “What?”
“What’s more powerful than a superhero fighting to protect his brother’s memory? Or a millionaire who only needs the right romantic interest to recover from the grief of losing his eldest son?” You flip over the page and grab a pencil. You draw a circle on one side of the page. “Imagine that’s a superhero story.” You draw a dot in the circle. “That’s Mark’s brother. He can only be affected by superhero-related things as long as he’s in that circle. Their dad’s millionaire-romance story won’t stop him from being a hero, just like his son being a hero won’t stop their dad from becoming a sugar daddy for some lucky single in town.”
“Definitely keeping my dad away from him,” Caiden mutters.
You draw another circle and put another dot in it. “That dot is their dad. He’s protected from any superhero stuff because he’s the main character in the romance stuff.” Between the two circles, you draw a third dot. “In the center? That’s Mark. And right now he doesn’t have a circle to protect him from the superhero stuff or the romance stuff. Do you understand?”
“You’re saying that Mark needs to be a main character so he doesn’t become a tragic backstory,” Caiden says. He scrubs a hand over his face and collapse onto a chair. “This stuff is messed up.”
“Sometimes,” you say, “being outside the magic is just as dangerous as being in the magic.”
That’s what you and Jeanine never understood. There’s a difference between being a background character and being an exception. Exceptionsmake great protagonists. When the sorcerers that live in the park noticed that you and Jeanine never fell under their hypnosis, they took interest.
Deadly interest.
“Hey.” Caiden reaches out to place a comforting hand on your arm. “You okay?”
You shake yourself. The quiet of the lunchroom makes you feel like you’re the only two in the world. It’s been a long time since you’ve been able to talk to someone that’s not under the town’s magic. You swallow. “My friend,” you say without really knowing you’re going to say it. “The one who wrote the Rules with me.”
“Jeanine?” Caiden asks gently. When you shoot him a surprised look, he says, “You guys signed the Rules.”
You’d forgotten about that. You hardly ever read the Rules anymore. You know them all by heart. You nod. “Yeah. She saved my life. The town isn’t evil and the magic isn’t all bad. But when it’s bad, it’s really bad. You’re doing Mark a favor by making him a main character. You might even be saving his life.”
That seems to break through to Caiden. He takes his hand off your arm, eyes far away as he considers that. When he looks back at you, there’s no resolve in the set of his jaw. “Okay. I’ll do it. How do I make Mark a main character?”
You pass the folder over to him. “It’s all there. You’re going to have to go to Nationals but, after that, you should be back in the background. Just like me.”
“Perfect,” Caiden says with a sigh. He stands, taking the folder with him. “I gotta get to practice.” He pauses in front of the door. “Will you come see us at Nationals?”
“Probably not,” you say. You scrunch your nose. If you go and meet Caiden after the game, you could be in danger of triggering another romance plot. You start packing up to hide your blush. “I’d hate to be caught up in a sports story.”
“Right, rule #35,” Caiden says, laughing a little. He looks awfully cute when he laughs. “If you’re good at sports—”
“—no you aren’t,” you say with him. You grin and wave him off. “See you later.”
Caiden glances down the hall for other students before leaning back into the lunchroom. “Thanks, Fern,” he whispers and then disappears out the door.
Your face feels hot as you make your way home.
-------------------.
You find yourself at the park the day of Nationals. You can’t bring yourself to watch Caiden. On paper, the plan is simple. He has to let Mark play all the singles and, if he plays doubles, Mark needs to be the one to score the most points. Or whatever the right terminology is. Even if it wasn’t dangerous to know too much about sports, you wouldn’t care.
Jeanine would care.
You wander past the kids’ playground and head across the lawn to where there’s a cluster of birch trees. In your mind’s eye, you see this place four years ago. It was night then and there weren’t any kids on the swings or parents idly chatting around the water fountain.
No, it was dark and empty and the only sound you could hear was the harsh panting of your own breath and the slow, rhythmic chanting of the sorcerers about to sacrifice your best friend.
Jeanine was an exception. She was someone who’d grown up here her whole life but was just…average. Average grades, average looks, average worries. Average. She was never compelled into a story as a kid. She wasn’t called on to fight dragons and she wasn’t recruited to be a child spy. She was just Jeanine.
The birch trees are looking a little weak. You stop just where the grass changes to dirt and stares up into their thinning canopies. Good. You hope these trees die. Then the sorcerers trapped inside of them won’t ever emerge and, at last, Jeanine will be avenged.
“If that’s even possible,” you say absently,
The truth is some days you feel like you killed her. Jeanine was average. You were the transfer who knew how to do too many things. You were the one the town took an interest in. Of course it did. You were a 13-year-old who could hotwire a car and who regularly broke into corporate offices searching for dirty books.
Jeanine saved you. She saved you from all the fates she’d seen her classmates fall prey to over the years. She taught you how to watch. She taught you how to survive. Sometimes you wonder why she did that for you, knowing what it could potentially (and did) cost her.
The truth is you would have done the same for her.
You kick at a root with real anger. When the magic couldn’t drag you into a mundane story, it escalated. The sorcerers that lived in seclusion on the other side of town got tipped off. They made a prophecy.
A prophecy about you.
You know the story that you should have had. You were supposed to be a lonely transfer student with only one shy friend. You were supposed to be excited when the sorcerers came to recruit you into their epic fight against evil. You were supposed to learn their spells and their ways and forget all about the normal life you once led.
Jeanine noticed the hooded figures first. She intercepted them before they could get to you. That’s what finally caught the magic’s attention. Here was a girl who would do anything for her friend. A beautiful girl with quick wits and an amazing loyalty.
Here was an obstacle that the sorcerers had to kill. Here was the final piece of your tragic backstory.
But Jeanine didn’t let that happen. Quietly, desperately, she worked to change your fate and, in exchange, sealed hers.
There is a reason that there aren’t any prophecies in town anymore. Jeanine’s sacrifice not only saved you, but everybody else from that fate. She gave her life to seal the sorcerers here, in these woods where they’d meant to kill her and take you away.
What you’re doing for Caiden isn’t like what Jeanine did for you. He’s not in danger of being whisked off into another dimension or being tortured by power you’ll never understand. He’s on a tennis team he doesn’t want to be on. But you’re teaching him like Jeanine taught you.
You just hope he sticks around long enough to learn.
----------------------------.
You get to school early on Monday. It’s against the rules, but you can’t help it. You need to know how Nationals went. You need to know if Mark won the title for them or Caiden.
You see the back of Caiden’s head in the hall outside of class. Your heart races. “Caiden!”
Caiden turns. When he sees it’s you, he raises two fingers in the air. “We won!”
Your heart sinks. “No, I’m so sorry—”
“I mean, I didn’t win,” Caiden says. He gestures down at himself. “Look! No tennis uniform!”
For the first time you realize that Caiden’s wearing normal clothes. Black cargo pants, a Henley, and boots. Normal clothes might be a bit of an overstatement. You try to focus on the positive. “Nice job! Did Mark score the last goal?”
“Not how that works in tennis, but kind of,” Caiden says, grinning. “He got scouted. That means he’s the main character right? He’s safe?”
“Yeah.” You eye Caiden’s necklaces. He’s still got the wolf pendant and the shark tooth on, but now the ancient coin has been replaced by a tiny sword. “I don’t think you’re in the clear yet though.”
Caiden deflates. “What? Why not? Can you see something on me?” He turns in a circle as if looking for note that says main character stuck to his back.
“You’re still way too cool,” you say. You point at the sword necklace. “Where did you get that?”
“Found it on the ground,” he says.
“Oh my god, take that off right now,” you say.
You’ve really got your work cut out for you.
---Fin---
Thanks for reading! I am absolutely IN LOVE with this meta town and look forward to writing more of these stories in the future!
Comments
Well except hopelessly in love with Caiden =p
The premise for this is so interesting! I love how she recognizes the tragedy of everything but still isn't hopeless
\( O 0 O )/
Susan Gist
Wow! just Sunnydale level craziness WOW 🤯
Mat Streets
This is so fascinating I'm excited to see what else you do with the setting!
Alexandra DeCarlo
This is such a cool world! So many possible stories. So many traps to avoid
This is awesome! I can't wait for more about this town! 😍
I loved this “I found it on the ground” NO CAIDEN BAD.
Catelyn Winona
Thank you so much!
this is awesome!!
