Mother of Darkwaters: Book one of the Vessel series (7 page)

   “Oh, gross,” Caroline responds.

   Jennifer laughs, “I know, right?”

   Rebecca makes a gagging sound then asks, “Is that Ms. Davis and Mr. Donovan?”

   “Yep,” Jennifer triumphantly answers.

   Caroline's brows narrow, “I thought Mr. Donovan was married. Don't they have kids?”

   Rebecca considers Caroline's situation with her mom and dad. She decides to tread carefully, “Yeah. I think you're right, Caroline.” Rebecca gives Jennifer a scornful look, “Is he married, Jenny?”

   Jennifer returns a confused look back to Rebecca. The taller six-foot two-inch girl answers compliantly, “Yes. He's married.”

   “Sick bastard,” Rebecca dramatizes. The captain of the varsity cheerleader squad pretends to have a sudden moment of inspiration, “Caroline. Isn't Mr. Cheater head of the senior activities this year?”

   Caroline gives her best friend a look of sly recognition, “Why, Becca, I believe he is.”

   Rebecca centers herself to face both Jennifer and Caroline, “You guys thinking what I'm thinking?”

   Jennifer and Caroline grin devilishly.

   “What are you guys thinking?”, a skinny six-foot three-inch Tamara Stilliard imposes. The other three girls turn to face the brown-eyed bleach blond closing in on their area. Looking at her bff, Jennifer raises up her phone.

   “Oh,” Tamara speaks with a tone of recognition, “So you showed it to them already.”

   Jennifer raises one of her eyebrows slightly, “It's not my fault you just got here. You should have texted. I could have sent it to you.”

   “My card’s full – need to get another one. I’m not losing the music I have for a cheat video. And I told you I was going to be running a little late, Jen.”

   “And I told you the sisterhood always comes before your boyfriend's body parts,” Jennifer counters.

   Caroline drops her purse in frustration. The tiny, five-foot five-inch girl lunges forward. She grabs a fistful of Tamara's shirt with her right hand and her left grabs Jennifer. Marching forward, Caroline walks the girls back first into a set of lockers. The sound of the impact causes nearby onlookers to stop and stare.

   “You stupid piggies need to stop acting like little preschool girls before someone decides to rip out your little pigglet throats!”, Caroline yells.

   “Geezus, Caroline. Take it easy,” a shocked Rebecca pleas.

   Caroline lets go of the two girls, backs away a couple of steps with tears filling her eyes, and attempts to reconcile, “I - I...What did I just do?”

   The gathering crowd is sure to clear a path while Caroline quickly turns to find her purse. No one tries to say anything as she heads for the girl's bathroom. After the door closes behind Caroline, Rebecca glares at Jennifer and Tamara,

   “Nice going you two. You both know about her dad.” Rebecca shakes her head as she walks off to find Caroline. Jennifer and Tamara watch as the bathroom door closes behind Rebecca.

   “Show's over freaks,” Tamara threatens the staring crowd, “Get to steppin'.” Tamara sees a few stragglers still lingering. “Now!”, she reiterates her threat. The lower socialites follow the cheerleader's command and disperse with unrecognizable mutterings.

   When Jennifer and Tamara feel as though they can speak in private once more, Jennifer rubs her chest, “That little thing must be on some kind of roids or something.”

   Tamara shakes her head, “I don't know what that was. But it didn't feel like any muscle thing to me.”

   “Oh, I forgot. You're the expert. You just got off a muscle thing about twenty minutes ago.”

   “You know what I mean, Jenny.”

   Jennifer looks towards the girl’s restroom, “Let's just try to forget about it and go see if she's alright.”

  
knock. knock.

   “Occupied by S.V.C. Get lost,” Rebecca snaps at the unseen faces behind the girl's bathroom door.

   Jennifer cracks the door enough to peer her head inside, “What if it's a couple of really stupid Sister Varsity Cheerleaders?”

   Rebecca looks at Caroline. When she receives the okay within her friend's eyes, Rebecca gives Jennifer and Tamara permission with a nod. Caroline turns to face the other girls as they enter. Her messy face is a direct result of tears mixing with makeup.

   “We're sorry, Caroline. Can you forgive two stupid piggies?”, Jennifer pleas.

   “Yeah. We're really sorry,” Tamara confirms.

   Caroline pouts and holds out both arms, “Me, too.”

   Rebecca joins her three friends in a group hug. It is Caroline, however, who is sandwiched in the middle of the tight squeeze. When they release one another, Rebecca notices something wrong.

   “Oh, gawd. You're face.”

   Panic reverberates in Caroline's green eyes. She runs over to the wide mirror placed above the row of sinks. Looking back at her friends, her silent begging motivates the other three to action.

   “Turn around,” Tamara directs.

   “We got this, girl,” Jennifer says while opening her purse.

   “Here,” Rebecca hands Caroline an anti-bacterial wipe. She lingers for a second while staring at Caroline's face. She arches her right blond brow, reaches back into her purse, and pulls out a handful of the wipes.

   “Pfft,” Jennifer enjoys watching Rebecca's response to the disaster at hand.

   “What?”, Rebecca's question is more of a warning than anything else.

   “Nothing,” Jennifer plays off Rebecca's empty threat. After Tamara helps Caroline to wash up, Jennifer hands her bff a face towel from her purse. Tamara dabs the cloth on Caroline's face.

   “Ready,” Tamara steps back.

   In just under ten minutes, the S.V.C. walks out of the girl's restroom ready to own their day.

  
Ring. Ring.
The West Hills High School bell announces the five-minute warning to get to class.

   “Jennifer, send me a copy of that video,” Rebecca orders, “We're going to make sure we have full control of our senior activities this year. Let's all meet up at lunch and discuss the details.”

   Jennifer swipes on her smartphone and grins, “Done.”

   Rebecca checks her phone. “Gotcha creep,” she addresses the man on the screen.

   “Property of the S.V.C.,” Caroline adds with contentment.

   “That's right,” Rebecca acknowledges her approval.

   “Gotta go, ladies,” Rebecca responds. The friends hug once more and part ways to start their morning. Captain Rebecca Hindsworth of the S.V.C. calls back to her squad,

   “Remember, lunch. And no boys, Tamara.”

   “Aye-aye, Captain,” Tamara confirms playfully, “No boys.”

   Tamara turns the handle to her classroom door. She steps inside and shuts it.

   “Ms. Stilliard, so glad you could grace us all with your presence,” a voice greets from behind the teacher's desk.

   “Sorry. Bathroom,” the eighteen-year-old responds.

   “Uh-huh,” Mrs. Dreiser of classroom 314 Calculus II utters, “Take your seat, Ms. Stilliard. You just might learn something today.”

   Tamara looks to her left. She spots her open seat next to her boyfriend Jason. The position forward on the boys’ varsity basketball team, Jason Deveraux is a good fit for Tamara. His six-foot three-inch handsomely built frame doesn't make her feel like a giant when she is near. She grins slightly while making eye contact with her early morning boy ride.

   “Hello beautiful,” Jason quietly speaks.

   Tamara settles into her seat. Making sure the Calculus Nazi isn't watching, Tamara lip syncs the word, 'hello'.

   “Books out. Phones off and put up,” Mrs. Dreiser ritualistically states.

   Tamara reaches into her backpack. Placing the thick text upon her desk, the light freckled nose girl notices a folded piece of paper. She covers the paper with her right hand and pulls until the paper drops into her lap. The girl waits for Mrs. Dreiser to face the white marker board. Whenever Mrs. Dreiser begins writing both a partial-derivatives and a double-integral formula, the dark tan girl unfolds the note.

   It reads: “I heard Caroline had a breakdown in the hallway. Marcus said he saw her straight check you and Jenny. Is it serious?”

   Tamara disposes of the evidence inside of her backpack. Fake-copying the board of useless information, the teen begins writing. When she finishes, she pushes the notepad on her desk into easy view for Jason.

   It reads: “It's not serious. She's just having a hard time with her dad doing what he did to her and her mom.”

   Jason nods and sits back in his chair.

   With her back to the class, Mrs. Dreiser speaks, “And if Mr. Deveraux and Ms. Stilliard would like to come up here, we will let them show us how to solve these.” The teacher turns around, “Unless, they would rather I read their love letters to the rest of the classroom?”

   Jason and Tamara exchange looks and head for the front of the classroom. Tamara holds out her left hand and receives a blue marker. Jason receives a green one. The two seniors begin their daunting tasks of formula work.

   “Ms. Hammond,” Mr. Tolbert calls out.

   The brunette responds, “Here.”

   “No, Ms. Hammond. This isn't roll call,” the Greek Mythology teacher corrects, “You already missed that part.”

   Muffled laughter fills the room with the voices of her peers.

   “Bring it here. You know the drill,” the thirty-seven-year-old male orders.

   Jennifer slips out of her desk and walks over to the teacher's desk. Her dark tan skin is a perfect match to her bff Tamara – a direct result of owning her very own in-house tanning bed.

   She hands Mr. Tolbert her phone. “I'll hold onto to this,” the athletically built senior defiantly states while holding up her smartphone's battery with her other hand.

   “Very well, Ms. Hammond. You can have this back at the end of the class,” the man with gray eyes informs.

   “Whatever,” the irritated teen mumbles as she walks towards her seat. Jennifer notices Rebecca's freaked out look. The tall girl whispers on her way by, “It's locked.”

   Rebecca smiles to thank Jenny for thinking on her feet.

   “As I was saying,” the teacher begins, “Does anyone remember who Artemis is?”

   Scanning his classroom, Mr. Tolbert examines the different students that have raised their hands.

   “Yes, Ms. Hindsworth,” the man chooses.

   Rebecca proudly boasts her answer, “Artemis is a huntress of the night. She is attributed to being the goddess of the moon.”

   Mr. Tolbert nods in approval, “Very good, Ms. Hindsworth.” The man's eyes rescan the room, “Does anyone else have any other input into this fascinating goddess?”

   “Yes, Ms. uh....”, the teacher’s mind goes blank when trying to recall the new transfer student's name.

   “Ms. Skank,” Rebecca venomously utters. The classroom fills with bursts of laughter.

   “No name calling, Ms. Hindsworth,” Mr. Tolbert chastises.

   “Then someone needs to tell her to take the softies D-Ed class. She nearly hit me with that rusted piece of junk she drives,” Rebecca counters.

   The new girl turns her head back to look at her accuser. She is shadowed with embarrassment and fear within her new environment. Her long black hair semi-covers her eye's view of Rebecca. The head cheerleader sits in the back right side of the room.

   The S.V.C.'s captain stares at the nervous girl. “Yeah, I'm talking to you,” Rebecca challenges.

   “That's quite enough, Ms. Hindsworth,” the teacher intervenes, “One more outburst and you'll find yourself missing practice for detention.”

   Rebecca huffs like no one understands her. But detention is so not happening. The curvy blond stays her tongue, for now.

   The Greek Mythology teacher glances at a piece of paper sitting on his desk,

   “Ms. E-vee Mar-ee, is it?”

   “E-vay Mar-ee,” the humiliated girl corrects.

   “Ms. EvéMari,” the teacher nods, “Welcome.” Mr. Tolbert smiles to bring some semblance of comfort to the nervous eighteen-year-old having hair so black it reflects a bluish tinge.

   “Do you have any thoughts into whom Artemis might be?”

   The new girl nods, but still appears to be unsure of her surroundings. She speaks quietly, “Artemis is attributed...”

   “Speak up, new girl. The rest of us can't hear you,” Rebecca demands.

   The pale skin girl looks at Mr. Tolbert. The experienced instructor nods his agreement with what Ms. Hindsworth has stated,

   “Speak up a little more, please.”

   The girl closes her eyes, takes a deep breath, and re-opens them. Although not as fearful as a few moments ago, the anxious girl still feels the thickness of the air closing in around her. Not exactly exuberant with confidence, she makes a better attempt at being heard.

   “Artemis is attributed to being a goddess of the moon. But she is so much more than that,” the girl glances back at her apparent rival without making any direct eye contact. The teen gains more confidence when she sees a hint of satisfaction on her teacher's face. She raises her voice subtly,

   “It is one thing to hunt during the illuminated world of the daytime sun as Artemis does. But it's quite another to hunt by only the dim light of a nighttime sky. Even on a full moon with a cloudless sky, the most experienced of modern day hunters will struggle without their night vision goggles.”

   The girl's confidence rises further with the ever increasing curiosity upon Mr. Tolbert's face. She speaks louder,

   “Artemis is just not some simple huntress of the night. She is a woman who is extremely determined to achieve her goals. She never asks someone else if it's okay for her to hunt. Artemis doesn’t care if they like it or not. She knows who she is without any doubt. She has embraced her identity to the point no one questions at all whether or not her skills as a huntress are really sufficient.”

   The eighteen-year-old speaks with the authority and confidence of any knowledgeable instructor, “Everyone agrees that she is skilled in this way. But what is sometimes left out is the underlining driving force within Artemis – her reason for being.”