Raven Page 2

  3

  I made it back to the student center, and got my stale and most likely toxic burrito. Also, some Oreos (those things were addictive, and I wanted to give a medal to whoever invented them). The events of the evening had caused me to work up an appetite, so I sat down at an empty table to eat before I headed back to my room. The student center wasn't too busy right now. Not that I was worried about being bothered.

  The burrito wasn't too bad today actually, I thought as I took my first bite. As I ate, my thoughts turned back to the car, up in flames as people flocked around it, horrified and shocked. No one had seen me; they were all looking at the car, or up and down the streets and sidewalks. Not on the tops of the buildings. They were focused on the burning car, but I would bet they weren't thinking what I was thinking. I imagined what ran through their heads was something like: How did such a thing happen? Did someone do this?

  That was the exact opposite of what I was thinking.

  My thoughts were only on the fire, its rage and its beauty as it took over the car, eating away at its upholstery, at the soft top, and everything that its owner had inside. How long had it been since I set something on fire? Intentional or unintentional, it had been too long. Part of me wanted more.

  The chair across from me squeaked as it was pulled out, jolting me from my thoughts. Who would have the courage to sit across from me? Stupid question.

  "I didn't expect to see you here," Chayton said.

  I ignored him and took another bite of my burrito.

  "Why did you hang up on me?" Now he was the one asking the stupid questions.

  "Because I don't want to talk to you. What don't you get about that?"

  "I just want to get to know you," he said.

  Get to know me? I held in a scoff. This had to be a joke. When I was in the presence of others, I made as much effort as possible to give off a stay the hell away from me vibe. I screamed social outcast everywhere I went. Yet Chayton seemed immune.

  "I don't see why."

  "I just do. Do I need a reason?"

  I sighed and glared at him. "Do you think if you keep pestering me that I'm going to come around, or something? Stop wasting your time. I want to be left alone."

  "Don't you get tired of being alone?"

  I narrowed my eyes at his question. Get tired of being alone? The notion seemed ridiculous to me. It was people who had alienated me, pushed me away and made me an outcast. I'd never gotten along with people, so why should I start trying now?

  "No," I said finally, returning my attention to my food.

  "I know what it's like to be alone. I was orphaned at a young age, and I hardly remember my parents at all."

  I looked back up at him, trying to find any signs of deception in his deep black eyes, or his expression. Chayton stared back at me, and I frowned, straining my eyes to find something that would betray his intentions, sharing such a thing with me. Nothing. That didn't mean there wasn't some ulterior motive hidden deep in there somewhere though. Some people were really good at hiding their true intentions, at pretending to be on your side then turning on you when it suited them.

  I wasn't going to let myself be so easily fooled by him. There had to be something else, something he was hiding away. I kept studying him.

  "What?" Chayton finally said, likely weirded out by my hard stare and long silence.

  "I don't get you."

  "Why?"

  "Most people usually avoid me. Are you sure you want to be around me?"

  Chayton shrugged. "I guess I'm not like most people."

  That's for sure. Most people aren't so stubborn. "If you keep following me around, people will start to think you're weird."

  "That's okay. Besides, who's to say I'm not already?"

  An interesting thought. After all of my refusals to socialize with him, all of my rude responses, he still wanted to know me. Chayton was definitely weird. Whatever his motives were for wanting to get to know me, wanting to tread his way through the fire with no concern for how badly he could get burned, I wanted to figure them out. Sooner or later, whatever masks he was wearing would come off, and his true motives would reveal themselves like the nasty monster they were.

  * * *

  The part of me that wanted more fire didn't burn out.

  I kept thinking about it. About the flames, about my rage over the perplexing Chayton. The desire to give in to that rage, to fuel that fire and reign it down upon something, ate its way through me. So I went for a fly again after my classes a few days later.

  I perched on top of a tall building overlooking the Bay, watching the people, the cars, the chaos of a city too big for itself that seemed to just keep going on and on, practically flooding over the edges of the land it was built on. Of all the places I could have been born in, it had to be here. Maybe it suited me. In a way, the city was like a fire—constantly burning, growing, and unpredictable.

  Not as beautiful and alluring as a real fire, though.

  Balling my hand into a fist, I concentrated all of my rage, conjuring up flames of my own will for the first time in what seemed like forever. It felt so good. An ache formed deep inside me to release my creation out into the world to see what kind of damage it could do on its own. I raised my hand up and let loose, throwing the fire forth like pitching a ball.

  The flaming ball collided with a parked car. People walking by jumped, some ran, and others watched in horror and confusion. I focused my anger and did it again, hitting the car beside the first one, then another car.

  I watched the chaos and commotion for as long as possible. Damn firefighters came to put it out, though. And it was so beautiful.

  I returned to the campus, the flames of the fire still on my mind. I passed through the student center, intending to grab a bite before I turned in for the night to study. The TV caught my eye.

  My little stunt was on the news.

  Right now, they were blaming a gas leak. Really? Did they think a gas leak would cause that? It was just like when I was a kid. People would make up anything to avoid the truth. Of course, they only had so much to go on. Theorizing was only natural, but still… Part of me wanted to make sure they knew who was responsible, that they knew it was a who and not a what that had caused it.

  That thought was like fire—tempting yet dangerous, inviting yet imprudent—and it stuck with me. It stuck through the rest of the evening, and through my morning class the following day. I itched with the urge to see more fire, more things being eaten away by its ruthlessness. Fire wasn't discerning or discriminating; it just burned whatever it touched. And I wanted more.

  I flew over the Bay, looking down on the city below and trying to decide my next target. Something that people would notice, something that they wouldn't mistake for a gas leak or a plug sparking or some other nonsense. I came down to stand on a building, pondering this more, only to realize the perfect thing was staring right at me.

  A billboard.

  Now that would do nicely.

  I conjured up some fire and flung it at the board, again and again and again until the whole thing was up in flames. Then I watched as the generic smiling faces printed on the now burning advertisement melted away. People took notice of the fire, and pandemonium quickly ensued. I took off before the sirens got too close.

  I made a pit stop back by my dorm to grab my things for my afternoon class, then headed by the student center to grab something to eat. When I entered, my burning billboard was on one of the TVs. I held in a smile as I watched the coverage of the chaos I'd created. There was a reporter on the scene, walking down the street and interviewing people who were around at the time the billboard mysteriously caught fire.

  The reporter stopped one person and asked, "Sir, did you see anything out of the ordinary at the scene of the fire?"

  "Actually… There was someone on the roof, over there." He pointed. Right in the direction of where I had been. Someone had seen me? My heart jumped into my throat. "I think it was a person, anyways."
r />   "What do you mean?" asked the news reporter, staring perplexedly at him.

  "Well, all I saw were these black wings."

  "Wings?"

  "Yeah, large, black wings. Black as a raven," the man said, then waved a hand dismissively. "Ah, forget it. It was probably just a large bird."

  That guy had seen me. Well, just part of me. A big part of me. But what if he had seen all of me? No one here would be able to put two and two together from the description he'd given. I'd been too far away for him to see my face. If he had, though… it would have all been over.

  I needed a disguise if I wanted to do that again.

  "Hey," someone said, making me jump out of my skin and lose my balance. "Sorry! I didn't mean to scare you!"

  Chayton had somehow sneaked up on me. He put a hand on my shoulder, an attempt to steady me or calm me. I shrugged his hand away.

  "It's fine."

  "What were you so engrossed in?"

  "Nothing. Just thinking," I said. I spared a glance at the TV—the news had turned to other, more boring things now—then started to walk away.

  "Hey, want to walk to class together?"

  Oh, that's right. My next class was the one I shared with Chayton. We were both heading that direction, so I guess there was no avoiding it. I shrugged and kept walking, Chayton taking that as invitation enough and began walking beside me.

  4

  After class, Chayton decided it would be a great idea to follow me and start talking to me. During lab, he'd made more attempts at conversation, and while I was still curious about the nature of his kindness towards me, I was still far from willing to just accept his friendliness as that of someone who truly only wanted my companionship. That seemed so unlikely to me.

  "Hey, are you free now? Maybe we could go do something."

  Did he think we were friends now? Or at least acquainted enough that I would agree to hang out with him? I resisted the urge to sigh. "Like what?" I replied, undecided on whether I would actually go do something with him at all.

  "You like burritos, right?"

  I spared him a glance. He'd actually noticed something like that? Either he was making such an effort to convince me he was sincere, or he actually was. But which?

  "Yeah, so?"

  "There's a really good burrito place over on Telegraph. Have you been to it?"

  "No," I said. That was on the edge of campus, and I didn't usually go over that way. When I went off campus it was usually somewhere much further away.

  "We should go then." Chayton smiled and gestured for me to walk with him. My curiosity—both on Chayton and the idea of burritos—got the best of me, and I followed him.

  We started walking towards the edge of campus. "How are your classes going?" Chayton asked as we made our way down Bancroft Way. Again with the small talk.

  "Fine," I said.

  "What do you like about burritos?"

  I glanced over at him, at his seemingly friendly smile, but didn't return it. At least this question was somewhat logical, though I still didn't know what he wanted to know all this for.

  "You can put just about anything you want in them and they always turn out good."

  "Oh, so you like that they're versatile?" asked Chayton.

  "Yeah, I guess so."

  Chayton chuckled. "Sounds like a good reason to me." I stared at him expectantly. "What?" he said.

  "Shouldn't you tell me what you like, since I told you what I like?" I wasn't very well versed on this getting to know people thing, but I was pretty sure I shouldn't divulge every single thing about me without getting to know something about the other person in return. If I was going to tell him these things, it would come at a price. I needed to know about him, too. So I could figure out what he really wanted, and if he really was as nice as he seemed to be.

  "Oh." Chayton smiled wide. "I like fruit and yogurt parfaits a lot. And waffles."

  "I like waffles too."

  Chayton beamed even more. "We should go out for waffles sometime then!"

  I shrugged indifferently. We crossed Durant, the various smells of the close packed restaurants wafting into my nose: fryer grease, pizza, ramen, and of course burritos. I followed Chayton to the source of the burrito scent.

  "What are you getting?" Chayton asked.

  "A supreme burrito, I guess."

  "Sounds good. I'm getting a veggie burrito." Once we had our burritos in hand, Chayton found a spot to sit and gestured for me to sit beside him. I did, but not too close. "How is it?" he asked me after I took my first bite.

  "Pretty good, I guess," I said, containing my enthusiasm and instead feigning indifference again. It was probably one of the best burritos I'd ever had.

  "I'm glad you liked it. We could come again if you want."

  Or I could come by myself, which is what I'd rather do. Maybe that was his way of saying he wanted to hang out again?

  "Why are you doing this?" I found myself asking.

  "What?" Chayton looked at me in confusion.

  "Being so nice to me. Asking me to go places with you. There are so many people on campus who would be willing to make friends, and you chose me. Why?"

  "I don't know," Chayton said. He pursed his lips in thought for a moment before continuing. "I've seen you around, besides just in chem. I noticed you were always by yourself, and I thought you must be lonely like that, with no friends. I know what it's like to be all alone, and I wouldn't wish it on anyone."

  I'd never thought about it like that. Alone was just something that I saw as my natural state. It had been that way for me for so long that I was used to it. I supposed I wouldn't wish what had happened to me on anyone either, though. Still, most people saw someone alone, cold, and they did nothing. All my life, people had done nothing for me. Why Chayton, and why now?

  "But why?" I said. "Why me? What do you want from me?"

  "Nothing. Just to get to know you. The real you, as you are."

  Just to get to know me. The real me. I stared at him for a long moment, at a loss for words and trying to read him. His smile, his midnight eyes, his long, dark braid…

  Everything about him seemed so…so nice. I couldn't find anything wrong with this picture, aside from his odd choice to get to know me of all people. Yet I still didn't want to just accept he was simply a nice person.

  * * *

  I closed the door to my room and leaned against it. My little venture with Chayton had only put more questions into my mind. I wasn't any closer to figuring out why Chayton really wanted to get to know me.

  I didn't believe there were simply nice people in the world, who wanted to get to know people or wanted to help people just because. Everyone did something wrong at some point. Everyone had a good and a bad side. And, above all else, everyone had a secret.

  What was Chayton's secret? What were his flaws?

  If I found these things out, would he turn tail and leave? Would I want to keep getting to know him once I found out his deep, dark secrets?

  I sat down at my desk and attempted to do some homework. My mind kept wandering back to Chayton again—to how happy it seemed to make him when he found things we had in common, to his bright smile. So earnest. So pure.

  That's exactly why I didn't trust him.

  I growled in frustration and turned my attention back to my homework, only to find my pencil was now a pile of ash. I'd have to start my assignment over again because of the singe marks all over my paper.

  Obviously I wasn't going to get anything done in this state. Might as well go out for a while. Maybe blow off some steam.

  I left campus and flew around, as high as I could go. Closing my eyes, I enjoyed the feel of the wind blowing through my hair and wings. For just a moment, I forgot about everything. About school, about the vexing Chayton. All of it.

  Only for a moment. Then it all came flooding back into my head again.

  I flew out over the Bay, looking down at the water briefly before nose diving right into it. The rush of cold shoc
ked me, temporarily chasing out everything else plaguing my mind. So, so cold, like those nights I spent on the streets as a kid, alone and desperately trying to keep myself warm. No matter how hard I tried to conjure up a flame in my hands then, it wouldn't come. I felt so helpless, so stupid for running away, but I didn't want to go back because I hated the foster home and everyone there. Eventually I always ended up back at that hellhole, no matter how hard I tried to get away from it.

  I hadn't ever wanted to be alone. People had done that to me because of the way they treated me, and now that someone actually wanted to be around me, I didn't trust the person.

  This line of thought was getting me nowhere. I forced myself out of the frigid water, and flew into the sky again. I pulled my shirt from my belt and let it dry in the wind as I soared through the air.

  I stopped at a department store. I hated places like this—they were just so busy—but it was a necessary evil. Grabbing a basket, I wove through couples and whining kids, ending up in the party section.

  Most of the things in the aisle were for kids' parties: rainbow-colored ponies, turtles wielding ninja weapons, transforming robots, princesses. Those types of things. A black domino mask caught my attention. The mask was simple, yet sleek, and would cover just enough to make people wonder who is that? Something like that would make an impact. I put the mask in my basket, then piled an assortment of other party favors in with it as a diversion.

  "Having a party?" the clerk asked as I was checking out.

  I smirked. "Yeah. A party." I guess it could be called that. There would be fireworks.

  I left the busy department store and ditched the other party favors in the trash can outside. Once I was out of plain sight, I pulled my shirt off and flew off again. Landing on a rooftop, I pulled out the black mask, looking over it again for a moment before slipping it on and combing back my messy black hair with my hands.