Stir

At eighteen years old I am a bit big for my age in both height and muscle. I have been trained by some of the most badass boxers in the world thanks to my dad’s connections with the MC. He wanted all of us to be able to protect ourselves, one another and most of all our mom should he not be around so he paid for us to have professional MMA training. Yeah, all of us are jacked in the muscle department. As the youngest though, it shocked everyone when I shot up a few more inches than the oldest one.

“Welcome to Clover High. Name please,” The office lady says, her voice oozing with disapproval and judgment. Seriously?! Do they have any other new students in this hellhole? Her name tag reads Irma. Suits her. Reminds me of an old English movie where the women only have one face.

“Alejandro Luna.” I promised my mom I would try.

“Here is your schedule young man. The principal will be with you shortly.” She points toward the chair to the left. I decide to play State of Survival on my phone while I am waiting to be called in. Nothing like a Zombie apocalypse to clear the mind. Finally, sometime later, she tells me he is ready for me. Let’s get this bullshit over with. I walk into the room and stand by the door.

“Mr. Luna, have a seat.” By the tone of his voice I know this is going to not be pleasant as suspected. “Welcome to Clover High. We put a big emphasis on God and propriety here. We don’t allow drugs, alcohol and or vandalism on our property and you should be aware, in our town either.” It is almost comical the amount of assumptions that have gone into this speech. I am chanting in my head that I am almost done and out of here. It is April and school is over in a little more than six weeks. “Keep your head down, complete your work and stay out of my office and we won’t have an issue. Do we have an understanding?” Grinding my teeth, I take a deep look in his eyes.

“We do.”

“Excellent. You have your schedule, I see. Everything else is squared away. Enjoy your first day.” I don’t bother with goodbyes or any other pleasantry. Finally, I look at my schedule and roll my eyes for the second time. My mom was the one who registered me and she didn’t bother asking me what I wanted to take. So, I am in religion, language, elite math and advanced history and workshop. Jesus. This just keeps getting better and better.

“Young man, we are now in our third period.” Irma informs me. At least part of the day is almost over.

“You must be Alejandro?” Some annoying ass screeching voice says as she walks into the room. I incline my head not bothering with words.

“I’m Lacy. I am going to be your first day of school ambassador. Are you ready to go?”

“Yep.”

“Great.” She walks out ahead of me and I see her looking over her shoulder at me as we walk the halls. The only reason she would be checking is if she is trying to entice me on purpose. Good luck. Slutty cheerleaders don’t get my prick aching. “What brings you to Ohio?” She has slowed down and is now side by side with me, shoulders basically touching. Flinching, I move over not wanting her overly perfumed, perfectly coiffed self touching me. She picks up on my disinterest and continues walking without any more questions. “Here is your class.” She says with more snoot than she showed a few minutes ago. My how quick the bitch comes out.

“You must be Alejandro Luna.” The teacher says as I walk in.

“I am.” She sneers and looks at me from over her glasses.

“Very well. You can have a seat next to Miss Abell in the back.” I look toward the back ignoring the rest of the stares and see the empty seat. I pay no attention to the person sitting next to it. My first mistake. I might have been prepared. But then again, how do you prepare for your life to change?

“Welcome.” I hear from beside me. Shit. That one word was like a fucking shock with paddles through my body. Carefully I turn to face the person with the voice of an angel, and every nerve ending inside of me starts moving and reaching. I am holding my breath as I stare at the tiniest girl I have ever seen. Her blue eyes are assessing me, burrowing into my subconscious, trying to find a hole, a crack in my carefully erected wall where she can change me.

The one repeating thought right now is how delicate and ethereal looking she is. I have to rub my eyes to make sure I am not hallucinating. “I’m Imogen.” Even her name is delicate and clean. Fuck. I am sure her name means something, but it should be Heavenly. She is like salvation. Hell, there is even some light seeping into me. Her little hand is out offering me a handshake, but I don’t take it. I know if I touch her right now, I am going to pull her out of this damn class and roll her in the dirt as I claim her. Like the asshole I am, I ignore the angel's hand and growl at her disappointed face. I feel like the devil, making angels cry.