The Black Signature

"O, it came o'er my ear like the sweet sound."

Who ordered a Monday morning with a hangover on the side? Unfortunately, my fate seemed to have. I didn’t exactly have a normal state of mind when I was guzzling down six shots of Vodka at a random dorm party last night. Sad part was I had no recollection of whose dorm it actually was. So my punishing result; a pounding headache and a slightly migrated vision. How very joyous.

It was a definite pain to actually wake up and remove myself from my precious sleep this morning. The droning alarm clock shrieked about three times before I got aggravated enough to fling it across the room. Speaking of which, I need to purchase a new clock.

I remember staggering out of bed this morning, my hands planted to each side of my temples as if trying to soothe the roaring that my skull seemed to be doing. I also remember looking to the empty bed that was to my right. It remained not slept in; no creases marked the warm fabric. Two of the few pros for situating at Leaderton were the fact that I had earned myself an intimidating reputation and had been fortunate enough to remain roomate-less. Willow, my only estrogen-obtained friend, had arrived at Leaderton a year before I did, and already had a roomate. It seemed no other female pupil was willing to share her presence with me. Some claim it was because of my bizarre need to be utterly sloppy when it came to keeping the room neat. Others claim it was because the thought of sleeping in the same room as me sent unpleasant thoughts to scatter their minds. Their minds were pathetic, yet they weren’t misleading.

I had arrived at Leaderton the year previous to this one. I came from a small town in Ontario, Canada, called Orangeville. Yes, the name does cause a good average of people to raise their eyebrows and snort while the question, “Are you serious?” is reflected on their amused faces, but I could honestly give a flying fuck. They could go screw themselves while watching Star Trek re-runs for all I cared. The fact was, Orangeville was the only place on the Earth that I actually loved with great passion. There was something about the rolling countryside that caused this clench in the pit of my stomach—a good clench. The way the sky looked dimly orange during the sun set, causing the green fields and pastures to appear almost tanned. It almost looked like the colours you saw through a pair of sunglasses. I don’t normally describe locations, or even people for that matter, with such detail and vibrancy. Orangeville was my home, my sanctuary, and I couldn’t be more proud.
It wasn’t the actual citizens situated in Orangeville that made me feel for the place. I clashed with every person on every street corner or grocery store. They were so laid back. Almost like if a tornado would come hurling through, they would simply sit on their front porch and view it like it was a garden of pink tulips. Alright, that was a slight over-exaggeration. But you catch my drift.

Orangeville brought up this…strength within me; a strength for painting. Orangeville is known for its antique art shops and galleries. And as far ago as I can remember, I was inspired to work in the art field.

Of course, my past isn’t spot clean or crystal clear as the cliché goes. I wasn’t shipped off to Leaderton because my parents wanted me to be academically inspired. Well, that was one reason, but not the main one. The reason the parentals decided to send me off to Europe was because it was their last resort.

In Orangeville, I was known for having a mischievous reputation. I would constantly jump from school to school, mostly because the principles were sick and tired of my picked fights and “gruesome vandalism.” Though, me and a few others could clearly judge that my “vandalism” was artistic and surreal. Art is my specialty, after all. So, after all of this, my parents researched for some high academic boarding schools and Leaderton caught their eye. Do you think they were traumatized up by the mere thought that I would be situated somewhere across the world from them? Not at all.

Before I start mumbling some ruthless words about my parents, let’s return to present time. Here I am, finally out of bed, staring at my tired and stressed reflection through the bathroom mirror. I should really adapt to going to bed earlier so I won’t appear zombie-like in the morning.

Instinctively, as the word morning flashed through my mind like neon lights, I turned my head rapidly to face the alarm clock which now lay shattered and useless against my pale bedroom wall.

“Shit,” I mumbled. “Forgot I hurled it.”

Cursing silently under my breath, I walked to my messenger bag which was situated beside my night table, and snatched my cell phone from its front pocket. As I flipped open the silver device, the screensaver’s digital clock read 8:40 am. Wonderful, twenty minutes until English class. Note the sarcasm.

Quickly, I grabbed Leaderton’s unoriginal uniform from my dresser, and put it on hastily. I ran to the bathroom and brushed my dark hair as quickly as I could, without making it appear Medusa-like. I studied myself with concentration as I looked unemotionally at the mirror. I noticed the dark shadows which lay almost evilly under my eyelids and scowled. I knew I wouldn’t have enough time to put on my makeup; I had woken up late this morning.

“Screw it,” I spat as I grabbed my messenger bag and bolted out of my dorm room.

As I walked quickly to my first period (I refuse to run; not even a late to English is a matter of life and death) I grabbed my cell phone once again, and looked at its screen. 8:55 am. I mumbled unnecessary curses as I accelerated my pace. I slowed down however, when I was met with the sight E3; I had finally arrived.

I always enjoyed being early for class; it gave me time to think in peace without hearing the aggravating shouts or laughter from the other students. I admire my space. Unfortunately, since I had woken up late, I was not granted my wish.

I groaned with a frown as I reluctantly made my way to a seat in the middle of the classroom. I slumped down on my chair, and grabbed a book I had been reading earlier from my bag. As I was reading, getting lost in another dimension, far away from this one, my familiar English teacher’s voice echoed through the muttering room. At once, all was quiet.
Jett Cotton had been teaching at Leaderton since I had arrived the year before. Whether he taught here before that, I didn’t know. What I did know however, was that his sternness and intelligence was also mixed with his attractiveness. Cotton was a hunk, any female in Leaderton wouldn’t deny that fact; even those who disliked him.

“I couldn’t help but notice that a pupil printed down on my attendance sheet is absent,” Cotton said with a shake of his head. “I do not wish to teach my lesson until he has arrived, mostly because it’s Monday morning and I’m too damned tired to repeat myself.”

At the last bit, a few giggles burst from the mouths of a couple of girls. I resisted the urge to wrench last night’s alcoholic substances onto the desk in front of me.

As if not hearing the laughs, Cotton went on. “As we wait for this student, I wish that you make use of this spare time. God only knows, you won’t have much.” As he spoke his last sentence, a smirk spread across his face.

Immediately, I resorted back to reading my novel. For 15 minutes I was lost in a world surrounded by demons and warlocks, fighting against an unspeakable evil. My eyes scanned the paragraphs which described a destructible war between creatures. Witches and faeries fought with each other like vicious animals as they ripped each—

“Slept through my alarm, Sir. Sorry.”

My head snapped up when hearing that smooth voice, which seemed out of breath. I felt my heart hammer against my rib cage as I took in the new pupil’s appearance. He stood at the same height as Cotton, though he was more slender. He had hypnotizing blue eyes which seemed to glisten like undying sapphires against his pale face. His hair, which seemed to be standing up in every direction, was a dark red and seemed to give him an exciting, wild look. The fingers which were once clutching my book now let go of its grasp.

Cotton, without regarding the presence of the new student, scanned his register. “Take your seat, Mr…Nyx.”

The boy, whose last name was obviously Nyx, looked as if he may burst with humility at any moment. His dark blue eyes remained on the floor, not wanting to meet the eyes of the amused students.

Feeling revolt towards the foolish stares of my classmates, I whispered to the Nyx kid as he walked near me. “Hey, new kid.”

As his head turned to my direction, I was sure my pulse was going to cease. Though he looked clearly nervous, his eyes held intensity I couldn’t describe, not even in my own thoughts. Feeling dumb for staring, I continued: “Don’t worry about Cotton: he’s strict but he’s an okay guy most of the time.”

I paused, wondering if it would be too formal and awkward to introduce my name at a time like this. Then, regarding any flaws at the thought, I said softly, “I’m Kiera.”

At my words, the muscles on his face relaxed and he gave me a small smile. “I’m Leon.” He looked like he was about to say something else, but Cotton decided to rudely interrupt with a short cough.

“Now that we’re all here I think we can get on with these crappy morning announcements,” Cotton said.

As he continued reading the morning announcements with disinterest, I zoned out completely, watching Leon out of the corner of my eye. He sat there, studying Cotton with a look of concentration and mild annoyance.

“Pow!”

At the loud boom of Cotton’s animated voice, I jumped automatically in my seat, my heart pounding like an iron fist. The class broke out into laughter as I sat there with a look of alarm and irritancy towards my English teacher. Leon looked like he wanted to bolt from the classroom.

“So, now, let’s get on with the lesson. Leon!” Cotton shouted. “Since you think it’s okay to saunter into my classroom twenty minutes after everyone else why don’t you come up here and help me?”

A groaned look broke out on Leon’s smooth face as he hesitantly got up. His pale cheeks were slowly starting to spread with a tinge of red. The colour on his face seemed to make him appear more striking, I thought as a crooked smile appeared on my face. As if hearing my thoughts, Leon slowly turned to look back at me, his eyes piercing into mine. My smile grew.

When Leon reached the front of the classroom, Cotton told him to pass out a pile of books. Leon stood there, almost confused and dazed.

“Are you going to just stand there and magically will the books to deliver themselves to people? Get to it!” shouted Cotton, his eyes holding somewhat annoyance and somewhat amusement.

After Leon seemed to snap out of his trance, he started distributing each book through the rows. I caught a sniff of his clean summery scent as he walked swiftly by me. Smiling slightly, I looked down at the book in front of me. My smile disappeared in an instant: Romeo and Juliet.

After reading that Shakespearean novel when I was 15, I never wanted to even look at it again. The whole book was full of misery and revolting cheesy-ness. Surely, no love on Earth could possibly be that…over-exaggerated.

I groaned as I flipped open the first page and was met with the sight of all the characters’ names and roles.

“Mr. Nyx, could you please explain to me what it is that you think you're doing?”

Forgetting the names of Romeo and Juliet, I looked up with curiosity. Cotton was looking hotly at Leon who was situated once again in his seat. Unfortunately for Leon, being new meant he wasn’t aware of Cotton’s orders.

“I finished, handing out the books,” Leon replied with confusion. Then he added, “Sir.”

“And did I ask you to take your seat after you had finished this mundane task?”

At this, the class erupted into snickers. I glared at the students sitting beside me. At noticing my hard stare, the kids near me silenced. The rest were sniggering with amusement, as if Leon’s mistake was clearly the funniest thing they’ve ever come upon. I had an urge to rip their limbs out.

A rage crept up in Leon’s eyes. “No,” he conceded, “No, you didn't, Sir”

A smirk gleamed from Cotton’s face. “Well then,” he said, a smirk trickling maliciously onto his face. “We can't be having that, can we? Come to the front of the class, Mr. Nyx, and bring your copy of Romeo and Juliet with you. Scarcelli, you too.”

A confused look passed Leon’s face as Cotton spoke Rune’s last name. As he saw Rune getting up, a look passed Leon’s face which made him look suicidal. Did he know Rune? If he did, he obviously wasn’t too fond of him.

As Leon approached the front of the classroom once again, he looked at Cotton with anger.
Without noticing, Cotton spoke. “Rune, I would like you to turn to the end of Act 1 in your script and you will speak for Romeo. Leon,” Cotton said as a mischievous-looking smile appeared on his face. “You can read for Juliet.”

My eyes grew wide. Was Cotton mad? Leon, a new kid, already facing his humiliating classmates, had to act the part of a female?

Leon’s face reflected pure horror. I’m sure if he detested Cotton before, nothing could compare to what he felt now. His cheeks grew a darker red as the class burst into another fit of giggles.

“From 'If I profane with my unworthiest hand' Rune. Off you go,” Cotton directed.

As Rune began to recite the lines of Romeo, my stomach tightened lightly. I loved this boy; sure, he was a close friend of mine. But there was still that obstacle, that barbed wire that still lay in the middle of our once clear friendship. What had happened between me and Rune the previous year will never be diminished.

“If I profane with my unworthiest hand
This holy shrine, the gentle sin is this:
My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand
To smooth that rough touch with a gentle kiss.”

At these words, Leon’s face became completely awestruck, as if he were witnessing a descending of an angel on Earth. He seemed completely lost in Rune’s words, and I couldn’t conjure as to why. Yes, Rune had amazing speech skills, and his voice was captivating, but I have never seen anyone react that way; with such shock.

As Rune finished his lines, Leon looked nervous, almost like he hated the fact that he had to read. I couldn’t blame him.

Leon heaved a big sigh as he read his lines:

“Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much
Which mannerly devotion shows in this;
For saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch,
And palm to palm is holy palmer's kiss.”

His voice was steady, not as passionate as Rune’s, but it did draw the attention of all the English students, especially mine. When Leon finished, I couldn’t help but notice a look of puzzlement and shock drenched on his attractive face.

Rune was looking intently at him. Almost as if he himself wasn’t expecting Leon to read with such accuracy. After Rune was finished reciting his lines once again, Cotton spoke.

“That's all for now, I think,” He paused slightly before continuing. “Rune, excellent. Perfect reading. Only thing I would say is that you need to gesture more. Your body language is very restricted when you read. Leon.”

Leon looked immensely relieved when Cotton said it was enough. However, he looked like he was expecting a big impact as Cotton continued to speak: “That was...not bad. However, you need to pronounce the words more accurately and with more feeling: you say them very blandly and without much emotion. You also speak too quietly. Raise your voice; don't be scared of what people think. Another thing: don't show off.”

Leon looked appreciative of Cotton’s useful advice; however the last bit seemed to catch him completely off guard as his jaw dropped. It shocked me as well; what did Cotton mean by that? Leon didn’t appear to have a prideful attitude when he was reading; quite the opposite actually.

Cotton continued unaware of Leon’s stunned look: “I know you may know this play very well but you will understand it more and be able to be more emotive if you actually read from the book. I am aware that you didn't look at the book once and that you didn't make one mistake. But no one likes a show off, I'm afraid. Please return to your seats.”

Leon’s face became even more blushed, this time however, it didn’t seem like it was caused by humiliation, but fury. Leon’s angered look lingered on his angelic features, even when he sat back down. For an odd reason, his faltering mood seemed to put a damper on mine.

Not long after, Cotton put us into groups of 4. As Leon sat in my group, I felt my head spin with excitement; my fingers seemed to ache with nerves. What in God’s name was happening to me? I just hoped it stopped before I regretted it.

When Cotton stated that the class was dismissed, Leon dashed out of the classroom before the others could even get out of their seats.

I stared at his empty desk before packing my supplies. I mentally cursed myself as I walked out of English, though the boy with the dark red hair was still implanted into my skull.