Pitch Black
Chapter Two: Lip Biting
I had a really bad habit of biting my lip.
I don't know how it started. But I do it all the time. When I'm nervous, stressed, annoyed, excited (which is rare), or when I'm thinking (which I do all the time). It's like a reflex. And sometimes I bite my lip so hard and often that I make it bleed. It happens a lot. And I started doing it a lot more as soon as Xavier came to the school.
It was raining that day, as usual. Wednesday, I believe. Lynn, Brandon, and I were in a Pitch Black meeting. Everyone was quiet, sitting at our desks, the floor, and in me, Lynn, and Brandon's case, on the windowsill. We sat where we could think better. Then Lynn said, without fear of the awkwardness you find in most quiet times-
"Why don't we have books?"
And like that, everyone took her words and processed them. Didn't even look at her with their eyes yet, but heard her with their brains, and snatched up her words in lightening speed. To someone unlike us, they would have thought she just spoke, but to our eyes, we saw millions of hands jump out, snatch up her words, and take it back to our brains.
"Books?" Reid, the club president, looked at her when he was done thinking. That was partly why he was leader; he thought faster. "What do you mean?"
"Books to exercise minds." Lynn replied. "Something unlike the text and literature of this school. Something interesting."
"Do you suggest anything?" Reid asked. "Anything in particular?"
Lynn shook her head. "I'll get back to you on it though. It was a suggestion."
Reid nodded. And we all went back inside our minds, most likely thinking about what books we should bring to the club. Only two minutes later, a loud knock was on the door.
Reid tilted his chin toward his vice president, Samuel, and Samuel got up immediately to open the door.
Who appeared at the door amazed me. It wouldn't amaze anyone else. He looked average. Medium height, pale, short blonde hair, and brown eyes. What did amaze me though, was that he was smiling. Smiling. People rarely smile at Huntington's, and when they did, it wasn't the same, so-happy-to-be-here smile he had on. I stared at him, slightly bewildered. What was he so happy about?
"Hello," he said in a smooth voice. "I've come to join this club."
We all studied him for a bit. Then Reid asked, "What are your grades?"
"Well, I got a 100% on my entrance exam, when most only get 70's or 80's. The headmaster suggested it to me. It seems... interesting." His eyes wandered over to where I was sitting, and his smiled pulled up in a smirk. Impulsively, I bit my lip.
"It is interesting," Reid said. "More interesting than any club or class in this entire damn school. But it's for thinkers. Are you a thinker?"
The boy studied Reid's face, and Reid looked straight at him, unwavering. That was probably another reason why Reid was the president. His icy blue-and-gray gaze could cut steel, and he never looked away. I don't even think he blinked if he was focused enough. "I always think," the boy began, not faltering from Reid's gaze. "I think about why I was put in this school. And it was for a good reason. I guess you could say, to hide from things. And it was a good place indeed. For who would ever take a second glance at such a color? No one looks at black. They're attracted to bright blues and greens and yellows and such. But no one ever stops to think 'maybe there's something to that color black.' They think it's just there to be the other end of the color scale. They're just attracted to what's in the middle. So no one can find what's within it. The very mysteries and interests within black. The stories. And even if they try, it's so dark, they can't find a thing. They get lost. So black lives a tranquil life, in a peaceful environment, unbothered by anything. That's what I think of it." He smiled again, and looked at Reid expectantly.
We were all dumbfounded. We had never thought of anything like that. It was impressive, and to me, angering, for all the time I spent thinking, I had never even brushed putting anything along like that. I dug my teeth in my bottom lip, not even noticing how it really started to hurt, but more focused on my anger and feeling of stupidity. If I couldn't think like that, I was better off as all the other students in the school. That made me angry, and the more I thought about it, the harder I pushed my teeth against my lip.
Reid was impressed, and he held out his hand. "Welcome to Pitch Black. I'm Reid Thomas, the president." He began to point out each individual club member. "That's Samuel Holt, vice president, over there by the bookshelves is Elizabeth Simpson, over there in the corner is Henry Lucas, and on the windowsill is Brandon Forde, Lynn Taylor, and Jack Winstead."
"Hello," The boy said, shaking Reid's hand and keeping that smile on his face.
He then walked slowly to the center of the room. "It's really nice to meet everyone," he said. "I should introduce my full and proper name to you, I think, since this is our first meeting. My name is Xavier Caesar-Adity Belial. I'm a thinker, a processor, and an overall easygoing person. I'm sure we will all..." he took another glance at me, and kept his eyes locked on mine. "Get along grandly."
I then felt the warm liquid pushed from my lip rush in between my teeth and in my mouth. I knew right then that I wouldn't like, no, hated, Xavier Belial.
I don't know how it started. But I do it all the time. When I'm nervous, stressed, annoyed, excited (which is rare), or when I'm thinking (which I do all the time). It's like a reflex. And sometimes I bite my lip so hard and often that I make it bleed. It happens a lot. And I started doing it a lot more as soon as Xavier came to the school.
It was raining that day, as usual. Wednesday, I believe. Lynn, Brandon, and I were in a Pitch Black meeting. Everyone was quiet, sitting at our desks, the floor, and in me, Lynn, and Brandon's case, on the windowsill. We sat where we could think better. Then Lynn said, without fear of the awkwardness you find in most quiet times-
"Why don't we have books?"
And like that, everyone took her words and processed them. Didn't even look at her with their eyes yet, but heard her with their brains, and snatched up her words in lightening speed. To someone unlike us, they would have thought she just spoke, but to our eyes, we saw millions of hands jump out, snatch up her words, and take it back to our brains.
"Books?" Reid, the club president, looked at her when he was done thinking. That was partly why he was leader; he thought faster. "What do you mean?"
"Books to exercise minds." Lynn replied. "Something unlike the text and literature of this school. Something interesting."
"Do you suggest anything?" Reid asked. "Anything in particular?"
Lynn shook her head. "I'll get back to you on it though. It was a suggestion."
Reid nodded. And we all went back inside our minds, most likely thinking about what books we should bring to the club. Only two minutes later, a loud knock was on the door.
Reid tilted his chin toward his vice president, Samuel, and Samuel got up immediately to open the door.
Who appeared at the door amazed me. It wouldn't amaze anyone else. He looked average. Medium height, pale, short blonde hair, and brown eyes. What did amaze me though, was that he was smiling. Smiling. People rarely smile at Huntington's, and when they did, it wasn't the same, so-happy-to-be-here smile he had on. I stared at him, slightly bewildered. What was he so happy about?
"Hello," he said in a smooth voice. "I've come to join this club."
We all studied him for a bit. Then Reid asked, "What are your grades?"
"Well, I got a 100% on my entrance exam, when most only get 70's or 80's. The headmaster suggested it to me. It seems... interesting." His eyes wandered over to where I was sitting, and his smiled pulled up in a smirk. Impulsively, I bit my lip.
"It is interesting," Reid said. "More interesting than any club or class in this entire damn school. But it's for thinkers. Are you a thinker?"
The boy studied Reid's face, and Reid looked straight at him, unwavering. That was probably another reason why Reid was the president. His icy blue-and-gray gaze could cut steel, and he never looked away. I don't even think he blinked if he was focused enough. "I always think," the boy began, not faltering from Reid's gaze. "I think about why I was put in this school. And it was for a good reason. I guess you could say, to hide from things. And it was a good place indeed. For who would ever take a second glance at such a color? No one looks at black. They're attracted to bright blues and greens and yellows and such. But no one ever stops to think 'maybe there's something to that color black.' They think it's just there to be the other end of the color scale. They're just attracted to what's in the middle. So no one can find what's within it. The very mysteries and interests within black. The stories. And even if they try, it's so dark, they can't find a thing. They get lost. So black lives a tranquil life, in a peaceful environment, unbothered by anything. That's what I think of it." He smiled again, and looked at Reid expectantly.
We were all dumbfounded. We had never thought of anything like that. It was impressive, and to me, angering, for all the time I spent thinking, I had never even brushed putting anything along like that. I dug my teeth in my bottom lip, not even noticing how it really started to hurt, but more focused on my anger and feeling of stupidity. If I couldn't think like that, I was better off as all the other students in the school. That made me angry, and the more I thought about it, the harder I pushed my teeth against my lip.
Reid was impressed, and he held out his hand. "Welcome to Pitch Black. I'm Reid Thomas, the president." He began to point out each individual club member. "That's Samuel Holt, vice president, over there by the bookshelves is Elizabeth Simpson, over there in the corner is Henry Lucas, and on the windowsill is Brandon Forde, Lynn Taylor, and Jack Winstead."
"Hello," The boy said, shaking Reid's hand and keeping that smile on his face.
He then walked slowly to the center of the room. "It's really nice to meet everyone," he said. "I should introduce my full and proper name to you, I think, since this is our first meeting. My name is Xavier Caesar-Adity Belial. I'm a thinker, a processor, and an overall easygoing person. I'm sure we will all..." he took another glance at me, and kept his eyes locked on mine. "Get along grandly."
I then felt the warm liquid pushed from my lip rush in between my teeth and in my mouth. I knew right then that I wouldn't like, no, hated, Xavier Belial.