Gary Bluethorne, noticing me for the first time since the excessive daydreaming started, glared at me from across the room. The two miniature abysses he called his eyes flickered in hatred, as if I'd been the person to piss in his cereal this morning. Normally, I kept to myself, not giving teachers a reason to hate me (besides when I had debates with them, but that wasn't a real reason to hate me...). I wasn't sure what exactly I had done to deserve his hateful glare, but whatever it was, it must have been bad.

Since the bell hadn't rung for class to start yet, Mary turned around to face me. "Romeo and Juliet is today, Emma! Are you excited?"

I glanced from returning Gary's evil gaze to see my friend's happy, promising one. "You bet I am. Fango's playing Romeo, if you hadn't heard. He'd better be a good one." I smiled, attempting to forget about the man glowering from across the room over my friend's shoulder. "Then we have Dillan's... thing... to go to. Are you coming?"

"Duh. I'm not letting you get kidnapped alone; I wanna go to Mexico with you!"

I sighed in utter relief. Dillan's pointless Welcome Home party was the only shot at privacy we had, other than having Mary over at my house. At said pointless event, I'd find the perfect time to tell Mary what was really going on with me. Even if she couldn't help, even if she couldn't console, I believed this would help mend our bond and erase the fact I had once distrusted her. "Gary Bluethorne is staring at me over there." I hid that bit of information by leaning forward and hissing it with faint breath.

Mary gave a tight, forced smile. "I know, Em. I've been trying to ignore it. Oliver is giving him the stink eye, too, if you hadn't noticed."

I glanced over to find that Mary was right. Much unlike himself, Oliver had on a hateful expression, icy eyes narrowed at the math teacher from over his knuckles. The raw abhorrence I saw in my face made me flinch; I'd never seen him make any other expression besides curiosity, sadness, or joy. He was innocent and kind, and the weirder group of people deemed him a "cinnamon roll" from some sort of internet term. Whatever caused the murderous rage on his face must have been something awful.

"That face..." my best friend shuddered. "It's almost like Mr. Bluethorne, like, murdered his family, or something... I've never seen anyone make a face like that... Gary and Oliver, both of them haven't even blinked yet... It's scary..."

Before I could respond to my friend, Oliver pushed his chair out, most likely going to talk to Mr. Bluethorne. I pulled a piece of paper out of my pocket and said, "Throw this away and see what Oliver says. You haven't been stared at, yet."

Mary snatched up the paper, dipped her head, and rushed up towards the trash can by the classroom's door. Oliver bent over Gary's desk. I couldn't hear what he said, but I could tell that his tone was venomous.

Mary made her way back.

"So?" I asked.

"Oliver said, 'Don't think I don't know who you are'," the black-haired girl revealed, taking her seat again. "And Bluethorne said, 'Don't think I don't know who that girl is, either. You'd better not be dangerous this time around.'"

This time around? I slouched over onto the desk, gritting my teeth in worry. I wondered for a moment if it could be my wind that Gary knew something about, or maybe even Croma. Then, I began evaluating their words. Apparently, our teacher saw Oliver as a threat, not me. Yet, anyways. And who was Gary, in Oliver's mind? Who was I, in both of their minds? Then, I pushed that concern away. Those dreams I had were getting in the way of the reality that actually mattered. They weren't real. Even if they were real, they were mine. No one else should have been able to know; it didn't make sense.

Then again, my dreams - rapidly becoming nightmares - weren't the craziest things that had happened. If anything, the new ability of mine countered it dramatically. I was almost certain I was going unsane.

***

The lights blared under the curtains, concealing us actors and actresses from the audience. The props were being adjusted my volunteering teachers, and the cast of Millton High School's play frantically tried to get ready for action; most of us had appeared late.

My blonde hair down in a swooning curtain of curls against the back of my white dress. Although my mother had barely peppered the makeup onto my face for preparation, it felt a couple of pounds too heavy on my face. I wondered how the other girls my age could even stand it. A silver bracelet strung itself around my wrist, glimmering under the dimming lights. According to a volunteering boy in a lower grade, I was 'glowing with unnatural beauty'. At moments like that, I felt jealous of the people popular guys paid no attention to.

Fango climbed over a prop, squinting at me through his glasses. "We both look ridiculous. I feel ridiculous. Hell, I am ridiculous! This play lasts two hours; we're lucky it started during school hours, or else we'd have no time to go to Dillan's."

I glared at him. "Boy, don't pretend I'm your friend." I glanced over his outfit. Instead of appearing a boy playing the part of Romeo from one of the most frustrating plays ever written (I hate romantic attention, but, hey, it was Shakespeare), he looked more like a nerdy guy trying to look like a simpleton. His crimson clothes were tight against his body, and a golden feather waved from his inflated hat. His boots curled at the leather toe. "And yeah, you do look ridiculous. I can't believe they made you wear that. You look desperate."

Fango Mills huffed. "Don't suppose I can say that about you, huh? Every guy here is drooling over you just because you have lipstick on."

"Shut your scrawny face," I hissed. His words made me feel like I was being displayed on a shelf, ready to be bought over by some guy. "I wish I was as ugly as your mother."

"You do this every time anyone but Mary talks to you. I wish you'd stop being so mean."

I crossed my arms. "I'd stop if you'd quit talking to me."

Gary Bluethorne strolled over, waving the narrator's script about, putting a hand on Fango's shoulder. "Tension makes your performance worse. Curtains in five minutes, kids."

"Gary." I glared up at him.

"That's Mr. Bluethorne to you, Emma."

"What is it that made Oliver so angry at you this morning?"

His brow kit in anger, and his coal eyes were set aflame once again. The man took my by the color of the dress and snarled, "That's a question you should keep to yourself, abomination." I lifted my chin as he lifted be up to his height by the clothes, fist clenching a handful of fabric. Despite the fear of getting hurt, I returned the cold look directly back at him. My air was slowly getting cut off the longer he held be to his face.

"Man!" Fango said. "Gary, let her go! Not here, you asshole!"

My lip twitched as I grinned in satisfaction, masking the terror I held inside. Gary dropped me to the ground, and I tumbled backwards into the guy playing as Romeo's rival. He dodged my fall by stepping to the side, and I caught the wooden floor with my hands. I glanced up at him, gaze still icy. My teacher shook his head and walked away, angry. No one offered me their hand to stand up; I pushed myself up off of the floor. "The guy's even more of an asshole than I am. Congratulations." I watched as Gary held up four fingers, probably signaling that there were four minutes remaining until we were expected to act.

Cautious, Fango murmured, "He's been acting rough all day. Don't take his bad actions the wrong way. That was totally-"

"Are you going to tell me I didn't do anything?" I said. "I don't care what I did, or if I deserve it or not. I don't really care. He didn't hurt me. If he decides to take his little attitude out on Mary, however, we are going to have a serious problem."

In the play, I didn't even have to kiss Fango.

***

Mary and I made it to Dillan's through the forest, completely ignoring the fact my parents trusted me enough and would have driven us there. Of course, they were aware of where we were going, but we wanted to take the path there our way. At the end of the walk through the woods to the cozy, decently-sized home at the end of a winding driveway, we were littered with nature. Leaves and dirt peppered my Metallica t-shirt and black shorts. It was all natural garbage, hanging off of my thin arms and legs and even the bun of my blonde hair.

Mary was more dressed-up as I was. Her dark, inky curls were in a bun like mine. However, she wore a neat-looking black shirt with a collar and silver buttons. Her black pants were tighter than what I found comfortable to look at, which actually wasn't very tight. She wore long boots that gleamed under the sliver of moon above. The glow of her emerald eyes, as precious as any jewel, was catlike in the slipping shadows of the night. She looked like a vampire, in my opinion. And I looked like her lesbian friend that probably helped her kill people.

I was, actually, neither lesbian nor a murderer. And she was not a vampire. She wasn't as dangerous as one, either; if anything, I was the predator.

I glanced over at Mary as Dillan's home came into sight. My breath caught in my throat; what would she say when I revealed to her what was actually going on with me? What if we agreed my wind could be dangerous, and we went separate ways? What if after the day was over and done, I was utterly alone, save for Oliver, who I most definitely did not trust with my problems? What if, somehow, I got nervous showing her my new ability, and it didn't work, and Mary thought me a liar? So many things could go wrong... However, it was a risk that, as a human being and trusting friend, I had to take. After all, if something like my air happened to her, she'd definitely come and tell me.

I stood out of the bushes, evaluating the house. The only out-of-control thing I could spot was the music pounding loudly through the walls, and it could be heard clearly outside. No shadows of half-dressed girls danced in the curtain window, I couldn't smell alcohol, and no one had set anything on fire (yet). All in all, the place seemed under control. "We can go in. If anyone tries to take you upstairs, scream and I'll come and castrate the guy."

Mary laughed a bit, looking up from her phone. "Oliver says he's inside. He just texted me." Her expression looked ghostly, the light of her phone making her youthful face look even more vampiric. "He says that he's confused at the strange dancing going on in there."

"Strange dancing?" I grimaced. "If I see anyone twerking, we're out, and we're going to kidnap Oliver with us to preserve his innocence."

Mary stood, slipping her phone in her pocket. I could see the device for a slight moment; she'd gotten a clear case and slipped a photo of us from last summer into it. I barely had the time to smile at it before she began talking again. "I doubt that they're dancing like that... After all, didn't Dillan say this was a Welcome Home thing?"

I'd already begun walking forward beside the driveway like a rebel, dodging her question. He said he was welcoming home a soldier, and that soldier was me. What does that mean? What does any of this mean? I don't understand... When Mary walked beside me, I said, "No food, no drinks. If you drink anything, scrub a glass and get you some tap water. You aren't to go upstairs with anyone, save for me. In your bag, you should have a pair of scissors. If anyone is already upstairs and tries to do anything, stab him. Yell for me or text me or call me if anything happens. Wipe off the toilet seat before-"

My best friend sighed and rolled her eyes. "I've already had this talk with both you and my family. Actually, I have this talk with you everytime we go anywhere. You even had this talk with me when we went into a grocery store to buy milk. I legit have this conversation memorized."

We were halfway to the house by then. "I know. There's nothing wrong with being protective over you, is there? After all, you're my best friend."

"I wish the best for your sibling-to-be. Poor guy, or girl..." We stood right outside, and we had to raise our voices. "Can't wait to see their first day of school! 'If the teacher even looks at you, violently assault them...'"

"Are you kidding? No, it's 'summon me so I can violently assault them'," I said. "Ready to make our lives pointless?"

"They already were, my friend."

We opened the door and practically went deaf. Dubstep music, which I was hardly acquainted with, made the house throb like it had its own heartbeat. A rainbow of crazy lights flashed in random assortments all over the place. Slutty-looking girls, my age and older, were giggling by a table with crackers, cheese, and brownies laid out on it. By a tan couch, boys, including Delta and Fango, were crowded on it, watching a football game intensely. A couple of people were actually dancing. One of those people were Dillan, who liked dancing just as much as he liked tacos.

Dancing tacos were his daydream.

I grimaced at the sight of everything. "It looks like he doesn't know how to throw innocent parties. He put on sports, tried not to play sensual music, and dear Croma, even made crackers and cheese for us. You can tell he's trying, but..."

"That's spray cheese! So tempting... Did you say 'dear Croma'?"

I shrugged. "I'll tell you later." I hope. "Don't you dare even think about that cheese."

Someone pulled me back from behind, pressing me to his chest and spinning me around. I choked out a little cry of surprise before turning to face Dillan, who grinned at me from over my shoulder. "Such a shame I'm shorter than you, Emma. Surprise dancing doesn't work on tall people, I guess."

I pulled back, regaining my balance. "Grubs off."

"I can't believe you actually came! Is everything to your liking, guest of honor?" Dillan bowed, mocking a gentleman.

"Where's Oliver?" I pressed. The black-haired boy with the purple headband was getting on my nerves the more he even looked my way. I glanced behind me to check that Mary hadn't been abducted yet, and then turned back to the tacosexual maniac. "I like that you made an effort to babyproof the place, but I'm not leaving Mary anywhere with you."

"I can take care of myself-" Mary began, lifting a hand to put on my shoulder.

Dillan sighed. "Oliver is outside in the backyard."

Leaning over to my friend, I muttered, "I actually kind of don't trust Oliver with you, but it's my best bet if you are to leave me to go somewhere else at some point."

She fixed me with a glare.

I smiled a little bit, amused at myself, and turned to Dillan. "So, no drugs, right?"

"Nope, completely drug free! I think... Unless taco is a drug."

I rolled my eyes. Of course, this was his home. Tacos and their ingredients would be stacked up everywhere, and so would strange dancing video games and books. The kid was abnormal, that was for sure. "So, can you explain this whole soldier thing to me?"

I followed after him as he stepped into the kitchen, leaving Mary in the living room. The light was on, and the place actually looked quite normal; there was a bowl of plastic fruit on the polished wood table, the fridge has reminders with magnets on it, and tacos were not the only food I could see (then again, his parents had to eat, too.) Dillan turned to me as he took out some whole grain bread to make a sandwich, or something like that. "I beg your pardon, Emma?"

"You told me this was a welcome home party for a soldier. And you said that soldier was me. What does that mean?" At this point, my jaw was clenched. My patience was short when it came to people who weren't really my friends or family. Not only that, but the kid was acting creepy, and was pretending to be too close for comfort to my group. After all, he'd started sitting with me at lunch weeks ago, around when Oliver moved in. "I'm not stupid, and you can't shrug this off. Does this have something to do with my dreams?"

He stopped making the sandwich and looked up, but didn't turn to face me. "Dreams?"

"Nevermind." It was a long shot; a vein of frustration throbbed in my corded neck. "Just... explain things to me, please."

"No, no, I wanna hear about these dreams. I've always been interested in weird stuff like that." He turned towards me, a crooked grin on his olive face. "Actually, no. The soldier thing is just something I said to get you to come."

"Gary Bluethorne attacked me."

Dillan choked on the slimy, white ball of sandwich in his mouth, spit and out, and cocked an eyebrow. "Attacked you?"

My tone was dark. I clenched my fists. "I'm not trying to complain to you. I'm just saying, watch out. He took me by the collar before we were playing Romeo and Juliet and pretty much threw me onto the ground."

Dillan Raking wiped his mouth. "Not surprised. I have to talk to someone, excuse me..." As if he had made an important discovery, the strange, uncanny boy left the kitchen and hurried towards the living room, probably talking to Delta and Fango.

I sat down at the table, sighing. Why would you think your dreams would be something they knew? That's... You're getting paranoid. Yes, Emma, it's frightening, but it means nothing. How sad. I had to console myself.

Mary stepped behind me from the living room. "Hey, Em, do you want to dance?"

I narrowed my eyes, not turning to see her, still in my worrying thoughts. "Hm?"

"I just thought... You know... We haven't danced since we were in, like, second grade, so, I was wondering if maybe you'd like to dance where it's acceptable?" There was the rough sound of her scratching her arm, which she usually did when she was nervous or unsure. "I mean, you don't have to..."

"Sorry, Mary. I don't dance." I stood, looking my friend over. She was openly disappointed; she never hid her emotions. Or rather, she didn't know how to. "I promise I won't kill anyone if you dance with someone else here, alright?"

"It isn't the same..." she mumbled, turning into the living room once more.

Sure, I loved Mary, but I had more pressing matters at hand. I had to snoop around; what if Dillan Raking did know something about the dreams I had? At this point in time, it wasn't a long shot. Maybe if I went upstairs, peeked around his bedroom or his parents' bedroom, I'd find something useful. The tricky part was all the couples that were going upstairs. I could see them giggling and going up, even from the kitchen. However, I'd find a way, and I'd leave Mary down here. After all, she could defend herself. This important matter was something I'd probably only have one chance to do ever again.

Besides, I really couldn't dance.

I hurried into the living room, pushing past the grinding people and barreling up the wooly staircase parallel to the television set. My footsteps thundered against the covered wood there. After shoving past a few couples, I entered the hallway. Easily, there were four rooms. One had a door sprawled open: the bathroom. The other three rooms had yellow notes taped to them, all reading: "Warning: This is personal space! Enter and I kill you!" It was a warning that Dillan had put up, and no one was going to heed. At the nearest room, a well-toned blonde and his brunnette girl snatched the note from the door and crumpled it up. In a quick movement, I opened the door and slid inside, muttering a curt, "Thank you."

I shut the door behind me. The room was a six-year-old kind of cute, rainbow arrays of butterflies and flowers peppered against a pink curtain. The floor was lush with a thick, blood red carpet. The bed had a foamy mattress, crimson sheets and My Little Pony blanket wrinkled and thrown around. There was a television set with smiley face stickers sprinkled all over it. The walls were a deep shade of red that was more than appealing to the eyes, despite the diverse range of other colors on every other object. So Dillan has a little sister... My eyes connected to a bookshelf with rather thick novels on them. I even spotted Lord of the Flies with a bookmark in it. A really smart sister at that. I would have joked to myself that this was Dillan's room, but it was lacking taco posters. I began pulling a book out at a time, looking for anything hidden within. The taco-lover should have known that I'd be looking through things, with the way I am. Nothing important would be in his room, if he had any common sense.

On the last shelf, I found a notebook and began flipping through.

Book Three of Three. Dillan Alexander Raking.

On the first page was a rather detailed illustration of a strange symbol with rubies on it and a rather realistic shadow. Peeking my interest, I turned to the next page.

I believe they are going to Earth soon. One of them at least. We haven't found her yet. Her, being either of them.

Confused yet satisfied, I shut the notebook and snaked it under my arm. This was something I needed to read. I knew from the way it gave me chills. I needed to check the other rooms. After all, this was only book three, according to the cover.

I lifted myself off the ground, had a peak at the empty closet, and then walked over to the door. I cracked it open, locked it, left, and shut it behind me. No one was going into the little girl's room at this party, and Dillan would just have to find out how to open it again once the party was over. I heard the couple groan in frustration behind me as they learned that the door wouldn't budge. The next room of focus was a little bit ahead, right beside the gaping golden light of the bathroom. I stood by and knocked on the door, noticing the note hadn't been taken off yet. Getting no reply, I opened the door. It was unoccupied.

I shut the door behind me, thankful more couples hadn't come up. However, I locked the door behind me. The place, I assumed, belonged to his parents. There was a mature kind of air to it, and the bed was king-sized. The wall was tacked with family photos, which, surprisingly, lacked a little girl. All the photos were of A woman, a man, and Dillan. There were exceptions, like the photos of Delta and Fango with the Raking boy. There was also a long-haired girl that showed up quite a bit in the pictures. I wondered if she was family or Dillan's permanent girlfriend.

There was a notebook peaking out from under the silky brown pillow, suspiciously placed as if I'd been meant to find it. Briefly, I disbelieved the reality of it, but I continued over. I picked up the thin book, and opened it.

Book Two of Three. Dillan Alexander Raking. Yes, Emma Whitestone, you were supposed to find this.

I stiffened, and turned the page.

I think this may be the more informative of the books I write. There are graphs, charts, and details in it more than any other I've written. I've gone back to add information, like people to their protectors and such. I know almost all of them now.

Biting my lip, the book went under my arm with the other one. Whatever this was about, I think I had found my answer.

I left the room, but did not lock the door. Hoping I wasn't being baited, I made my way to Dillan's room at the very end of the hall. I turned the knob. It didn't budge. I jiggled it.

"Shit..." I murmured, a bit panicked. I turned to a stranger behind me that looked a couple of years older than me. "Someone went in here, didn't they?"

He shook his head, black curls bouncing. "Actually, babe, it's been locked for a while. I'm waiting for my friends to get out of the bathroom."

I rolled my eyes. Of course he was. "You sure?"

"Yeah. Why would I lie, babe?"

I jiggled the knob some more. It didn't make sense. Why would it be locked? Because it was Dillan's? There were numerous reasons it would be locked, actually, but I had my whole faith that the first book was in there. "Shit, shit, shit..."

The stranger stepped beside me. "I have a credit card if you know what to do here. Where's your boyfriend at, anyways?"

I restrained myself from telling him I was single. "Downstairs, still watching the game."

He whistled. "He's lucky! You're a little flat, but, you know, hot. And you don't even have makeup on!"

I ignored the stranger's comments and took the credit card, sliding it through the door. It worked, so I handed it back to him, and stepped in the room.

"Aren't you gonna go get your boyfriend, or do you wanna go with me, or..?"

Being myself, who hated romantic or sexual attention more than Hitler hated the Jews, I hit the guy in the flank of his head and shoved him to the wall. "Listen here, you desperate fuck, I'm going in alone to do something that is none of your goddamn business. If you dare flirt with me again, I'm going to knock your nose off so clean, even Lord Voldemort will be jealous. Are we clear?"

He nodded, smirking. The kid thought I was playing hard-to-get. Whatever. I wasn't going to deal with him at the moment; I had Dillan's room to search for the first book.

I stepped inside, closed the door, and locked it. Shockingly, there were only four taco posters on his crisp red walls. There was a sword that hung beside several pictures of Dillan and the long-haired girl. There was a picture of them kissing, proving to me that she was Dillan's girlfriend. Even more shocking, the kiss wasn't the lustful one that everyone practiced, but sweet, gentle yet rough at the same time. It was the kind of kiss that you could only describe if you'd been kissed that way. I hadn't ever been kissed that way, save for as Ebony from Salt. However, the kiss of the photo looked real.

I turned towards the bed, scouting for the notebook. It was on top of the pillow this time.

I grinned. Time to leave.

The picture is Dillan, but without his headband, and his eyes aren't as purple. Vote, comment...

Knowing that, since I plan on this becoming a slightly lengthy series, Emma is going to grow up... And I will never be ready for that. Haha.

Feel free to point out grammatical errors! Love you guys!