Sign Holder of Sagittarius

I was dead. Well a part of me anyway—the part that believed the world was good and love conquered all in the end. That part of me died the moment I shook hands with the old man. It felt as if I had made a deal with Death himself. But what choice did I have? Either I walked away and lost everything, or I gave up Rose—the girl that had saved my life. The old man would kill her for sure and now I was going to help him do it. For a moment, I wondered how I had gotten here? I wasn’t a bad person. I tried to do the right thing over and over, but I guess it really didn’t matter if I was good, or bad. It was always going to come to this and looking back, I should’ve known, I was doomed from the very beginning....

At the start of the year, barely a month after my birthday, I leaned back in my car watching the snow fall on my windshield. The small white flakes melted almost instantly from the heat on the opposite side of the glass, which had started to fog over. I wasn’t ready for school to begin and seeing the dazed looks of my classmates walking toward the giant brown building, I knew they weren’t either. The past five weeks had gone by so fast; it was hard to believe winter vacation was over. No more using my entire day to binge-watch Zombie Apocalypse, no more staying up late to play video games with my friends, no more walking around the house in my underwear for days, and no more two-hour naps in the afternoon.

I missed being in my bed already.

Maybe I could fake a cold, or a stomachache, or something, or anything. But my mom was a nurse; she’d known if I was lying. Although, I had been getting these crazy headaches lately, they wouldn’t be enough to convince her that I needed to go home.

Regrettably, I turned off the car engine, taking in my last moments of freedom—

BANG. BOOM. BANG. BOOM. BOOM.

“What the—”

I jumped.

“Alex!” I demanded, watching him pound on my window like the glass was some kind of drum.

“Cuzzo!” he shouted. “Let’s gooooooo!!!” He continued making beats on the glass, until I opened the door.

“Really?” I glared at him. “Really?”

Alex wore a blue varsity jacket with the number 01 stitched on the front in gold thread. He stood a few inches taller than me (something he never let me forget) with messy brown hair, thick sideburns, and a smile that could’ve made toothpaste proud. He threw a few playful punches in the air, just as a couple of girls across the parking lot pointed and giggled in his direction.

Most people found it hard to believe Alex and I were biologically related. I was a part of the National Honors Society, a member of the science squad—yes, the science squad—and in the top 3% of my class. Alex, on the other hand, was the first freshman to ever make the varsity football team, voted most likely to date a celebrity, and wanted to be a famous rapper after he graduated high school.

But total opposites, or not, we were family—we were blood.

Glancing at my car’s side view mirror, I noticed my eyes were more green than blue today. They changed at times. Like if I had on a blue shirt, they would look more blue, or if I had on a green shirt, like I did today, they would look more green. I ran a hand over my hair, seeing I needed a cut. Bad.

“Waken,” Alex said annoyed. “Are you coming, or what?”

“You can always go in without me,” I growled hoping he’d take the hint.

He didn’t.

Instead, Alex pulled out his phone and muttered, “We have 12 minutes to get to class.”

I grabbed my book bag out the backseat of my car, shut the door, and walked with Alex toward Coolridge High located in the most boring place on earth, Wichita, Kansas. I’d lived in Wichita my whole life. It was bigger than what most people expected; we had a mall, a college, a zoo, restaurants, museums, and festivals. But it wasn’t enough. I wanted more—more opportunities, more things to do, and more places to go. But the only place I was going was to the building that stood three stories tall with over 4,000 students and a quarter of a million-dollar football stadium.

“Here we go,” Alex said as we approached the entrance and flashed our ID’s to Sam the security guard, who then smiled and waved us forward.

The smell of Pine-Sol and fresh paint hit me as soon as we walked through the double doors and entered A-Hall. Every hallway was given an assigned letter from A to Z. A-Hall was the main hall that stretched from one end of the building to the other, and currently it was crowded with students laughing, talking, and getting ready for first period.

Alex’s locker was in A-Hall, whereas mine was in O-Hall which was located on the second floor. We usually split up when we first got to school, going to our separate lockers, but for some reason Alex started following me to the stairs.

“Hey…um cuzzo,” he said from behind me, as we plowed our way through the mass of students and teachers. It was impossible to walk side-by-side; instead, we weaved our way in and out like a couple of centipedes, until finally reaching the opposite end of the hall. The noise level died down drastically and I could move around without bumping into other people.

“Yeah?”

“I-um, I—” He paused as we went around the corner and reached the bottom of the South staircase. A handful of upperclassmen were coming down, all wearing blue varsity jackets just like Alex. Two of them gave Alex a nod of recognition before disappearing around the corner. Alex continued. “I’m not—I’m not as ready as I thought I would be,” he spoke in a low voice.

“I couldn’t tell with you banging on my window this morning,” I said, irritated all over again. “I wasn’t ready for school either. That’s why I was sitting in my car, thinking of ways that I could go home—”

“No,” Alex said. “That’s not what I mean.”

More students started coming down the stairs.

Alex and I got out the way and headed up toward the third floor. There wasn’t a lot of activity on this floor seeing as there were only two classrooms: one for art and the other for music. There were rumors the school was going to get rid of the third floor, which made sense. This was the most neglected area in the entire building. A majority of the lockers were unused, the ceiling needed a new paint job, and the white tiled floor was covered in an inch of dirt. Alex and I made a right down O-Hall, bypassing the art room, and went straight for my locker. What was my combination again? 24-16-32? Or was it 24-16-23?

“Waken.”

“I’m listening.”

I jiggled my locker before glancing over at him. I hadn’t noticed earlier, with him acting like an idiot, but he looked terrible. There were bags under his eyes and his hair was sticking up all over his head. Plus, he kept fidgeting. “What’s going on?” I asked, sitting my heavy book bag on the floor.

There were a few people around but none of them were paying attention to us, except for maybe the girl with glasses further down the hallway; she kept looking at Alex and then turning her head away quickly. Thankfully, she was far enough away that she couldn’t hear anything we were saying.

Alex stopped fidgeting and gave me a look, like he couldn’t believe I had to ask. “I’m getting my Mark.”

Oh.

Right

That was today.

“Alex,” I said opening my locker with the combination 24-16-32. Ah ha! I was right the first time. “It’ll be ok.”

“That’s easy for you to say,” he growled. “You’ve already gotten yours.” His expression darkened as he focused all his attention on the lockers on the opposite side of the hall.

Yeah.

I’d gotten mine.

I winced at the memory. That pain was like nothing I’d ever felt before and nothing I’d ever want to go through again. Cautiously, I rolled up the long green sleeve of my shirt and saw, in the middle of my right forearm, my Mark—a black arrow tattoo. But this was no ordinary tattoo. Whenever I touched it, the arrow would spin around on my skin and point in the direction of something that was lost. It didn’t hurt anymore, just tickled a little, but it was still a reminder that I was not like everybody else—that we were not like everybody else.

I lowered my sleeve just as Alex turned back around to face me. The darkness in his eyes had faded and what remained was something I rarely saw in him.

Fear.

Alex was the most confident, self-absorbed, and egotistical person I knew; even if there was a time when he was afraid, he’d never let on. “What if—” he began. “What if the Mark doesn’t take to me?”

“It will.”

The Mark was a symbol that was imprinted on our skin during a coming of age ceremony, which our family had been doing for hundreds of years, and today it was Alex’s turn. Only 12 people of each generation were chosen to receive a Mark. Alex had nothing to worry about. The Mark would show up on his skin, and if it didn’t—

“I just.” He shook his head. “I don’t want to let them down.”

By them he meant his father. He didn’t want to let his father down. I glanced at my phone and saw we only had a few minutes before school started. “You’re psyching yourself out. No one in your family has ever been rejected by the Mark,” I reminded him, seeing a boy and a girl walk into the art room. They gave each other a kiss before they went inside. “And we should go.”

Alex ran a hand through his long brown hair. “You’re right,” he said, letting out a deep sigh. He still looked miserable, but there was nothing else I could do for him. “Let me get to class.” He clasped my hand, giving me half a hug, and walked away slowly.

As he left, I shut my locker and dropped to the ground to zip up my bag. Then I stood up, swung it over my shoulder, and something plowed into the side of me.

“Ouch!” someone said.

I turned to see the girl with glasses.

She stumbled backwards, as everything fell out of her hands and onto the floor.

“My bad,” I said bending back down to help her, just as the five-minute warning bell rang.

Crap.

I had to go.

I could not be late for Mr. Green’s class. “Here,” I said shoving a loose-leaf paper in her hand, before standing up to leave. I practically sprinted down the hall, rounded the corner, and flew down the steps two at a time. A-Hall was packed! And worse, the floor was slick from people dragging in their wet shoes and boots. Careful not to slip, I maneuvered through the crowd and only stopped when a bunch of guys blocked my path to stare at Melisa Mareheart—a senior with long dark hair, who looked like she’d stepped out of a Victoria’s Secret commercial. They had no chance. Alex, of course, dated her for like a week before breaking it off because he claimed she was too clingy.

Going around them, I reached my classroom with more than two minutes to spare and took a seat in the front. Whew. Made it.

Looking around, I spotted Mr. Green’s desk in the corner, drowning in papers, some of which were on the floor. On the opposite side were giant windows, facing the parking lot and several snow-covered cars. And directly in front of me was the white board, with the words, “Hamlet 30 Min Quiz.”

A tiny explosion went off in my head.

What teacher in his right mind would give a reading assignment over winter break and give a quiz on the first day back? I prodded the girl on my left, as I reached inside my bag and pulled out a copy of the play. “Hey Tanya, what was the name of Hamlet’s best friend?”

Tanya turned around, tossing her blonde curls over her thick shoulder. “Maybe you should’ve actually done the reading,” she said with an air about her. She reminded me of a pig. She had bright pink cheeks from wearing far too much make-up, a double chin, and a huge nose that resembled a snout.

Was it Hontoro? Hidodo?” I asked, skimming through the pages. I did the reading—just not all of it.

Tanya tilted her chubby nose in the air and smirked.

“Nope.”

Tanya was one of those know-it-all types. She was always the first to raise her hand in class, she argued with the teacher whenever she was wrong, she color coordinated her notes, and she did more reading than was required. I was about to say forget it when Adam walked through the door.

A little out of breath, he slid in the seat beside me and sat his bag on the ground with a thud. “Forreal?” He frowned, staring at the board. “A quiz!” Adam had curly red hair, glasses, and a pink scar to the right side of his nose that he got from a car accident when he was a kid.

“Adam, who was Hamlet’s best friend?”

“Uhhhhh...” Adam leaned over his desk and looked around me. “Tanya, who was Hamlet’s best friend?”

“Horatio,” she responded promptly, batting her eyelashes.

What. The. Heck?

Adam winked. “Thanks Tanya.” Then he turned to me and said, “Just remember Hamlet had a murdering uncle, a mother that betrayed him, and pretty much everyone died in the end.”

“Quiet!” Mr. Green shouted, walking into the room just as the final bell rang. He was a hefty blonde-haired man, pushing forty, who refused to wear clothes in his size; his buttoned-up checkered blue shirt looked as if it were strangling his neck, and his tight khaki pants seemed to be cutting off the circulation to his legs.

Following close behind him was the same dark-haired girl with glasses who ran into me in O-Hall. She stopped and stood awkwardly in the front of his desk. Ignoring her, Mr. Green took a sip from his coffee mug, set it down, and then clapped his hands together. “Is everyone ready?” he asked, looking around the room with beady brown eyes.

A majority of the class moaned while Mr. Green searched his desk and somehow found a thick set of blue booklets, without spilling more papers on the floor. “Those of you with half a brain will pass. Like Miss Mudd here.” He nodded toward Tanya, who smiled up at him so brightly, it was obvious she didn’t catch the fact that he said she only had half a brain. Grimacing at the rest of us, he started walking down the rows of students and passing out the blue booklets. Then he made his way over to the dark-haired girl, whispered something in her ear, and she nodded.

Keeping her head down, she moved toward the back of the classroom. But as soon as she passed me, a sharp pain cut across my arm like a broken piece of glass. What in the world? I bit my tongue so hard I tasted blood in my mouth. I hadn’t felt pain like that since….

I clinched my fist.

Carefully, so that no one else would notice, I rolled up the sleeve of my shirt. My Mark was spinning out of control and my arm was shaking so bad I could barely hold it still. My head pounded in my ears as I grabbed my Mark and squeezed it tight. Immediately, the pain stopped. Then I loosened my grip and slid my fingers down just enough to see the black arrow, pointing directly to the girl with glasses.