Die in Tune

Her pale pink lips so soft and graceful on mine; her thin fingers tangled up in my already messy hair; my hands tracing down her back to her hips…And my lips on hers.

Love: probably the greatest thing in the world, although it may distract men and women from achieving success in other areas. I was a solid proof of that fact. For the past week since me and Harriet became an item, I still haven’t thought about the journalism team or even given my response to my ever patient yet eager teacher. But the most surprising of them all: I haven’t written in days! I needed to write but not when I was with her, because whenever I was with her, I would get distracted, lost in the depths of those amazing and hypnotizing green orbs.

I’ve had many girls in my life, half of them I don’t even remember, yet none of them ever had the effect Harriet was having on me. I never longed for anyone as much as I longed for her; I never thought about someone as much as I thought about her. I was finally brought into the massive wave of love for the very first time.

The last time I went by Dr. Murphy’s office, just a few hours before meeting Harriet, at first I didn’t talk, as usual, but I had this huge pathetic smile planted on my face the entire time. I could only imagine what Dr. Murphy was writing on her clipboard about me. It would be something along these lines:

He has a sudden change of mood.
He is smiling, which is a nice change to his enigmatic, pessimistic expression.
He still insists in not talking or giving a single hint about his happiness.

But hey, I’m not a professional. I just assume all of that by her facial expression, by the way her eyebrows furrow and by the way she writes: calmly and in her clear calligraphy.

She asked “So, Kaleb, why don’t you tell me what’s going through your mind?” I guess curiosity got to her and she just couldn’t resist asking that question to answer all her unanswered interrogations in her mind.

I didn’t answer right then, but since I was in a good mood and I felt bad for her having to sit there for an hour looking at me, not a single word leaving my firmly closed lips, I decided to speak a bit. “A person. A really wonderful person.”

She smiled knowingly. She probably understood the cause of my happiness, the reason of my smile. She took a note and I could imagine it so clearly in my extremely imaginative mind:

Love is the reason for his happiness.

Returning to the present moment in my room, where Harriet and I were: our hands interlocked in each other’s; eyes closed… We were lost in the magic of the kiss. At that moment, words were pointless, words were nothing. No vowels or consonants were needed to be uttered to prove our love. All it took was that intimate gesture based on the collision of the lips of two lovers.

And as our lips parted, we were breathless and looking into each other’s eyes. I could feel her warm breath on my chin as I caressed her cheek. She didn’t have prominent cheekbones. Her face was soft and she looked like a child. “Not only are you an amazing tutor, but you’re also an amazing kisser… Damn Kaleb! There are so many surprises to you!” She was smiling as she said those words.

“Really?” I probably had a cocky grin on my face at that precise second. Then curiosity about me being an amazing tutor came over me. “And how am I a great tutor?”

She reached for her bag and opened it. She snatched her plastic file and slowly took out a paper and shoved it in my face with so much joy. The paper revealed some messy writing and a whole lot of lines scratching out mistakes committed during her thoughts as she answered the questions on her test. But what stood out in the paper was the thing written in bold red on the top right corner of the paper, the geography test she was holding in front of my face: A-. “Without your explanation about the rains and weather stuff, I would’ve surely failed,” then she kissed me. We were both smiling when our lips met.

When the gesture ceased yet again, it was my cue to talk about my happenings at school. “You know what? Mrs. Astbury asked me if I wanted to join the journalism team at school…”

She almost jumped with excitement “Oh, wow! You should definitely join!” She wasn’t exaggerating or faking it by using an extremely sarcastic tone. She was being sincere. “You’re definitely one of my favorite writers!” Her compliment made me blush.

“I don’t know… I-I’m not good in team work…” There it is. I laid it all on the table: I admit I’m afraid I’ll fail because I won’t cooperate with the rest of the team. And journalism at our school is a big deal. You actually have to be really good to make it into the team unless it was a teacher who recommended you to the team. In that case you get it easier. The only time I was good at team work was in sports: basketball or soccer, it didn’t matter. I could cooperate with people only in those situations.

She laughed “You’ll get used to it.” I was about to disagree with her, stating all my reasons about how since I was young, I was never good at doing group projects even before I became an introvert, because I hated doing all the work for a bunch of people who didn’t give a damn about it like me, but then she said “Anyway, you better get used to working with assholes now, since you’re going to have to deal with lots of them when you get a job.”

I laughed at her comment. That was true though. I guess she did have a point, quite a good one actually. “And I’d love to read your wonderful, sacred scriptures in the school newspaper,” and with that she fully convinced me.

“Okay, I’ll give it a try…” And her smile grew wider.

That night, when Harriet had gone home already and my stomach was full after yet another delicious dinner by Anita, which I won’t describe, because I’m such a greedy guy who wants to keep the delicious pleasures of Anita’s cooking to himself and I’ll probably make quite a few mouth water with the descriptions of all the tasty meals, I was sitting at my desk, rolling my pencil in my fingers, thinking what to write in my story.

I noticed that my story was creepily similar to my life. The events, although different in nature, were exactly the same, at exactly the same moment. I hadn’t meant for it to be that way, but I guess it was destined to happen. Someone would eventually be picked to write the story I was writing with the ending it was destined to have which I yet didn’t know. And that someone who was picked was me.

Finally, everything I needed to write at that moment was appearing in my mind. Bright letters fading into the darkness of my mind. Letters in my illegible calligraphy. Then they drained out of my mind and I felt them going down my neck, way down to the veins in my arms. Going through them like some sort of injected drug or adrenaline.

Writing: my roller coaster, my drug, I thought.

When they reached my finger, my hand, which had released the pencil by then, had to sudden impulse to reach for the pencil. Words bleeding out of the fingertips, desperate to be on the clear sheet of paper before me. Not resisting, I grabbed the pencil and the moment my pencil met the paper, I started writing at an extremely fast speed.


I was in my new room. It was small and modest. All it had was a bed in the left corner of the room, a desk and a closet. The walls were a cream color, kind of like a light tone of beige, the floorboards were made of wood, polished but not shiny, and the ceiling was low and only had a simple light bulb for illumination. The room was stripped down to its basic necessities. So everything in that room was all that I needed.

I was nervous about meeting the next day with Derek to start making a new strategy against the Supreme Court and everything it stood for. I had scheduled to meet with Revaun earlier in the morning so he could fill me in with all the details. Basically explain to me everything that I had ignored when I was a murderer and everything I was clueless about.

Suddenly, I heard my wooden door creak open. I had my back to the door, so I had to turn around to see who had entered. I didn’t even have time to see her, because as soon as I turned, her lips met mine and her arms wrapped around my neck. Her lips were softer than silk and her light brown hair peeked out of her big hood. My hands eventually met her hood and pulled it down, exposing the rest of her hair. Our first kiss together.

“So I heard you and Derek will meet tomorrow…” She whispered between kisses. I had promised Revaun to give it a shot, but I was unsure I would be able to work together with someone who had probably a different point of view and also someone who probably didn’t appreciate the idea of working with me either. I didn’t dare whisper a word, fearing all of them would hint her at my anxiety. But I knew better than to avoid the issue, she could read me better than anyone. “Don’t worry…He doesn’t bite,” she smirked.

I couldn’t help but laughing at her comment. I was still very unsure, but when I looked into her eyes and saw the certainty of my success in them, I felt encouraged. I had agreed and given my word to Revaun about working with Derek to concoct a plan. Therefore I would keep my word and wouldn’t even try to bail out on it. Not now. Not when one of the best murderers in the world sees potential in you and decides to trust in you to device a plan that for once wouldn’t fail. I hated making promises that would just end up as lies.

I had never actually thought I would end up agreeing to something like this, but even if I wanted to give up, those deep green irises just would make the words of rejection become trapped on my tongue by the single emotion I have yet found a way to control: love.

“I’ll take your word, but if you’re lying…” I couldn’t find a decent threat that would sound vengeful or at least convincing, so I just gave her a playful, threatening glare, which ended in laughter from both of us. A laughter that progressed into a kiss. I’m starting to believe that our lips have opposite magnetic forces: one is the negative, the other a positive, because they can’t seem to stay apart for longer than one minute.

The next morning, I woke up really early in my usual grumpy morning attitude. I didn’t exactly pack anything to wear, so I slept with the clothes I was wearing and all that I had from now on were the clothes that I still wore. I should’ve thought this out better and brought some clothes along. When I make decisions without thinking them through, I tend to do things impatiently and forget some of the vital stuff. I actually remember my mom having that tendency as well.

I walked into the main area and Revaun greeted me. He was very cheerful and hyper for that time of day. He was definitely a morning person, I concluded. He shook my hand, almost breaking my arm in the process, due to the weakness I felt during the morning. “Good morning Kaleb. Hope you had a nice sleep, because today you will need all the concentration and patience you can get.”

Hurrah! Just the way I wanted to begin a day: being reminded that I would have a long and tiring day ahead of me. He guided me up some stairs until we found ourselves inside a long corridor. Its walls were sleek and polished, made of some rock, I think it is granite or maybe marble, and in the floor there was one of those moving carpets. It was very futuristic, more than I expected for an underground place. When we were at our stop, Revaun indicated me to exit to the left to this other corridor where the floor was made of wood. He went behind me and told me to continue moving forward. I did as he asked me to do. There weren’t many door in that corridor, I noticed, but there was a light at the end. “Where exactly are we going?” I asked.

Instead of answering my question, he decided to speak about something that for him was somehow more relevant than our destination “You know what boy? Yesterday, that whole duel thing between us, it was a test. I was testing how well can you deal with spontaneous situations and getting an overall look at your fighting abilities as well. I have to admit you are pretty good, especially for your first duel, but when it comes to the real battle, if there happens to be one, your opponent will not lose on purpose…”

I felt insulted by his remark and then he added “I actually think you are a good observer, because you absorbed Derek’s strategy quite fast. But you have to find your own strategies, because that’s what will help you win in battles and leave your opponents helpless on their knees.” He did have a point. I had subconsciously copied Derek, though I didn’t actually realize I was doing so.

“The real reason I’m bringing this up is not to say that I let you win so that you wouldn’t feel so bad on your first day here, but actually because I want to teach you everything the teachers at Aeono don’t tell you. Everything that actually matters in the city. If you are open to new ideas you will be able to formulate great strategies, just like in a fight you watch your adversaries’ weaknesses and use them to your advantage.” He used his hands to make gestures as he talked. And damn, the corridor was extremely long!

I decided to ask once again “So where exactly are we going for you to explain to me everything I have absolutely no knowledge about?” The destination finally came into view. I found myself in a small area, with a big window facing the city. The area was empty and the main focus was the window. I took some steps forward and looked at the view: you could see the whole city from that window. You could look at the murderer part of the town, the screamer part of the town, the witness part of the town and the palace of the Supreme Court. I had never seen the whole city. Never. I had only heard about the parts, never knew exactly how they looked like. The palace of the Supreme Court was huge and majestic, like something you would only dream about seeing. It was isolated from the rest of the city. Most murderers never got to leave their part of the town before they died. The Supreme Court was a complete mystery to be quite honest.

“This, Kaleb, is the lookout.”

I stopped at that moment. I was feeling sleepy, although it wasn’t too late. It was just a little past midnight. I closed my notebook and placed it next to a stack of comics and books I was planning to read whenever I had time. I decided to drink a glass of water before I went to bed and got all tangled up in dream world. I didn’t turn off my bedroom light when I went downstairs to the kitchen, so it wouldn’t be so dark on the way. My house looked haunted in the dark, and for a person who had a huge fear of the dark as a kid, it isn’t something you are very comfortable with. To make matters worse I was alone. In a big, dark house. All alone.

Let me give you some background story on my not so unique phobia. Remember rhymes your parents used to say before you went to bed “Goodnight, sleep tight. Don’t let the beg bugs bite.” Well I once had a very horrible nightmare where I see these so called bed bugs, except they weren’t bugs, they were huge, scary creatures that made the average frightening vampire seem harmless, huggable and cute. Said creatures deprived me of my sleeping rights.

I guess that’s why I don’t mind watching gore movies. I guess that’s why I’m into morbid and spooky things. Not many things scare me. Except the dark. It reminds me of those creatures.

Anyway, I went down the stairs, turned the kitchen lights on, almost blinding myself in the process due to reflection of the light on the white walls, and poured myself a glass of water. As I drank it, I absorbed the silence of the house. Anita was at her small two bedroom apartment a couple of kilometers away. My dad was somewhere in Europe probably already getting up for another conference for God knows what. My mom was also in another state dealing with business affairs. And here I was their one and only son, staring at the dining room table he rarely eats in with his family.

I ran some water on the glass and kept it on one of the shelves before turning the kitchen lights out and going back to my room. When I got back to my room, I turned off my lights. The darkness in my room wasn’t like the one that shadowed the rest of the house. It welcomed me into my dream or nightmare land. Before I closed my eyes I remember turning to my bedside table and seeing the photograph Harriet had looked at a few days before. She had insisted me on leaving it there, because she liked it. And so I did.

Then slumber swallowed me into its wide embracing arms.


“Wake up. Wake up, Kaleb…” As I slowly opened my eyes, I saw my mom looking back at me, her icy blue eyes ever so warm and inviting at that time of day. She was wearing her bikini underneath a red silk dress. Her hair was long and curly at the time, but since we were in Thailand, she had braided it all and put red and orange beads in the tips of the braids in a local salon. She wasn’t wearing any make up, not even the slightest, most discreet eyeliner. “Do you want to go to the beach?” She asked me with her vivid smile. One I would forever keep in my memories as a happy one.

“Yes!” I said in my childish voice. I got up and bounced in the bed “I want to build a sandcastle!” My mom just laughed. Suddenly, my dad left the bathroom where, apparently, he had been putting on his swimming trunks and sunscreen. He was one of those people who didn’t tan but became sun burnt easily.

When he saw me awake he jumped onto the bed “Yes and it will have three towers this time!” He was my partner-in-crime when it came to building sandcastles.

I made a small frown and said “I want to make a pirate castle with four towers and a pirate flag.” He laughed and explained to me that pirates lived on ships but that we could make a castle with four towers and a flag. That made me excited. I was a kid; I was easily excited by the smallest of reasons.

I still remembered how I was happy rolling around in the sand and building sandcastles and jumping into the warm water of the Pacific Ocean. I still remember how I would throw a tantrum every time we had to leave the beach. I still remember how I would complain about my skin being sun burnt and my mom telling me she had told me to put more sunscreen on. But most of all, I remember how my family was very close.

I woke up from that lovely dream and looked at my bedside table, where the picture was sitting. I actually missed those holidays a lot. We had never been back to that nice place. We had hardly left the states together, to be frank. But the dream just reminded me of how I didn’t have those moments anymore. And it didn’t leave me with that pathetically annoying grin on my face, like it normally would.

I had school anyway. And I was still kind of sleepy, because I had slept late. Not putting much effort into my appearance, I went downstairs to have breakfast. Anita didn’t show up until eight thirty, so the kitchen was rather silent. It almost looked like those kitchens that were up for display on IKEA, untouched and unlived in. It brought some sadness to me.

I lived in a dead house, in which the family who inhabited it, spent more time in planes than in the living room, more time in boardrooms than in the dining room table, and more time in their fictional world than in reality. Welcome to the so called picture perfect family everyone deems us to be.

Coffee meet mug. Mug meet my lips. That’s my morning kitchen routine. The one I do every morning so I don’t act like a complete zombie. Though I do fit into a picture. Get it? Zombie in a dead house. Okay, forget it. My sarcasm in the morning doesn’t exactly work effectively.

I placed my half-empty mug on the counter and paused to think on aspects I only think on when my mind is still not working efficiently during the morning. Wake up. Get dressed. Drink coffee. Go to school. Pay attention to classes. Write in boring or interesting classes. Eat. Go to Dr. Murphy. Go home. Write. Eat. Sleep. That was what I did on one day. And the next day, I just needed to press on the repeat button on my life remote control.

That’s what I don’t like about living in a big city. Everything becomes a huge routine, a huge habit. Time is your main concern. Everything goes to fast. To fast to seize the slightest moment. I don’t want things to be this way.

Then the coffee kicks in and all those thoughts are brushed away, locked away in my subconscious. Don’t blame me for not wanting to have serious thoughts during the rest of the day! I already have a whole world and an amazing girl to think of! And I have a freaking strategy to think about! Even though it’s going to be used solely in my fictional world…

Her hair, smooth with a healthy shine; her scent, sweet yet daring; her eyes, deep and mesmerizing; her lips, soft and tender. And the list of things I love about her could go on and on, but I don’t want to bore anyone. Like I said, I’m a guy who likes things that are short, sweet and straight to the subject. No intricate answers, no unnecessary questions.

But being distracted by her is inevitable.

Focus, Kaleb, focus! I repeated to myself, rolling my pencil in my index and thumb. Harriet was in front of me in the study hall, revising some algebra while I wrote. I had finished my homework during the biology class and wanted to use my time there to write something.

Harriet paused a second to release a sigh of frustration. “Damn algebra and damn whoever created it!” I had to laugh, because I actually found algebra remotely easy.

I looked at the exercise she was trying to do and said “Did you check if the signs are correct?” and she was about to assure me that she had tried everything and that algebra was just created to mess with teenagers’ minds and that it should be banned in schools and all that rant that I should find annoying, yet I find ridiculously cute, when she looked at the exercise and found her mistake staring back at her.

“Oh, yeah, I switched signs here.” She laughed and erased some lines on her piece of paper, then shifted her eyes between me and the empty sheet of my notebook before me “How’s it going?” She asked with a slightly mocking tone. She knew I was having a hard time focusing because of her, yet she was teasing me, because she knew I liked her annoying persona.

“Great. Just great.” I said with an exaggerating hint to my voice indicating sarcasm. She shrugged and continued erasing and correcting her exercise.

“I could help you, you know? But you don’t let me read it anymore…” She frowned a bit. She knew well the reason why I didn’t want her to read it yet. I wanted her to read it when it was ready. I wanted her to feel like she really was La Femme Incognita I described in the story. I wanted her to imagine the city, the people, the murders, the rebellion… Every little detail as if the city was real.

After all, that’s what I think most writers want their readers to feel: as if they are a part of the story and not just some bystander. “Soon you shall.” I said trying to emphasize some mystery and joke with her. She smiled back before allowing me to head back to my story.

And just like that, I had a sudden outburst of inspiration for my story. Ironic how all it took was a short, fun conversation to free me from my temporary writer’s block.

The lookout? I questioned in my head. Before I had time to ask it out loud, Revaun answered all my interrogations. “It’s here where we can see what the city is up to. We can see what the city can’t see. That’s how we know what the Supreme Court is up to. That and of course our secret informants. We know more than any teacher at those elite schools us, murderers, attended. You see Kaleb, up until now, you were living in a lie.”

My mind was trying to absorb the information I had just received. I needed to absorb as much as I could in a short period of time, because it was going to be crucial when I elaborated my plan. So I took mental notes as he explained to me the situation of the city. I didn’t interrupt him one single time.

According to him, the witnesses were brainwashed into believing that everything else that happened outside their part of the city was for the good of the city. They didn’t have a clue that the Supreme Court has left everything completely out of hand and made the rest of society either “patriotic, overly devoted to their job” people or attention leeches. There was no middle term.

The reason for all the control by the Supreme Court was the money and the power. They wanted the witnesses to work without distractions in their mundane life so that they can produce more money and the city can become richer. This is equivalent to the Supreme Court becoming more powerful. They also plan on conquering other cities, to gain even more power. It’s not for the good of the city. Basically everyone is brainwashed into what they had learned since they were young.

I was no exception.

Now I could see things clearly. And I had just the plan.

I thanked Revaun for the information and promised him I wouldn’t fail. He just smiled and allowed me to go to the main area to meet with Derek. It was going to be one hell of a day sharing my ideas with someone I barely knew.

The more time I spent in the hidden lair of the rebellion, the more I felt outraged with myself. All my life I had been lied to about my city, my people. We were all in fact prisoners. And the rebellion was my escape at last. I found my way through the hallways until I reached the main area. Lots of people were there, all socializing and having vivid debates. I could hear someone mention my name once even.

I ignored and proceeded to meet Derek who was waiting patiently by the long meeting table. He was sitting in a chair in of the sides, not at the end of the table, to my surprise. I was about to sit at the end, next to him, when he said in a hostile tone “That’s Revaun’s place.” I decided to sit directly in front of him instead. He stretched his legs and planted his feet on the table and asked in a slightly demanding tone “So what’s your incredible plan? I’m sure you won’t be able to copy any of mine this time because you haven’t seen them…”

I decided to explain myself “I didn’t copy you intentionally. Being a student at a school for murderers where you are taught to absorb what you saw and copy it to achieve success, it becomes almost an unconscious action. And I also learned in school that it’s always good to attack from the back…” He still had his hostile glare present on his face. Hopefully my plan would help the situation between us. “After what Revaun told me, I think the best idea would be to infiltrate into witnesses’ territory and join an army there. They are our only hope at actually putting an end to the Supreme Court's plan…”

When I was done, he was practically laughing. He had to contain his laughter before he began speaking. “You’re telling me that the defenseless witnesses are our only hope! You must be kidding me! We have tried with murderers who have a bigger chance at putting an end to this, because they actually know how to kill, and it was a big failure!”

“Murderers are raised to think that killing screamers is their only road to success and happiness. They are close-minded about the rest. Screamers are hopeless. Witnesses may be brainwashed, but all their lives they have always hoped for a life that was better than their own, they might be the only ones that could be easily convinced and trained to form an army…” For once Derek actually seemed interested in what I had to say. He looked like a kid at school paying attention to his favorite class. I began to wonder about his age. How old was he: 15? 16? He didn’t look so old, looked a lot younger than me actually. But he seemed mature beyond his years.

“So you think it will work if we go with the witnesses?” I nodded and he asked “What exactly do you want to do to convince them?” His left eyebrow raised waiting for a decent answer. He had low expectations from me and I could feel the negative vibes he was sending me. I felt uneasy as I gave him my response.

“We go undercover. As witnesses. Live amongst them and gain their trust. Then talk them into joining us.” I knew what I had gotten myself into by saying that. I would have to go. I would have to be one of the people infiltrating an unknown territory to me. You have no idea how that excited me and at the same time scared me. The next thing he asked me was something I expected already.

“And who will lead them?” He also knew the answer, I could tell. He just wanted to hear me say it. He wanted to see by my answer if I was secure, if I was certain, if I was confident, if I was a leader. Funny how one person can tell by the way you talk exactly what you’re feeling at that moment. It becomes an identification object. If you’re nervous, you tend to hesitate and stutter. If you’re happy, you tend to talk louder and sometimes you don’t even utter a thing and the smile in your face speaks louder than words. If you’re angry, you either don’t talk at all, or talk in a violent manner.

I forced myself to answer in a confident way “Me.” He waited and looked at my eyes, straight into them for the first time, then took his feet of the table and sat closer to it. He started fiddling with his hands, thinking on it. Then he looked at me, his face warm and welcoming since the first time I met him.

“You know what, Kaleb? I think I underestimated you. I guess Revaun has told you by now that I have trust issues, just like he tells every new guy who feels intimidated by me.” He laughed a bit, for the first time not serious and with a smile on his face. “I am not that hard on people usually, but I was mostly skeptical about working with someone. I guess we haven’t properly introduced ourselves. I’m Derek.”

“I’m Kaleb. Used to be Kaleb, the Slitter though, back in town, before I joined you.” He nodded and we shook hands. He had a steady grip. I still wondered about him. What was he before he joined the rebellion? How old was he? Why did he decide to join? I didn’t let curiosity get the best of me though. He couldn’t help himself though.

“So you were a murderer? What made you join us?” He sat back and seemed interested. I told him I didn’t know exactly why I had joined. I lied there because I knew why I had joined, but it probably seemed pathetic saying “Oh, I joined because I loved Harriet and couldn’t reject her…” He didn’t seem so convinced.

“Just admit it. You joined it because of Harriet.” He said it in a mocking tone. Now he sounded like the young teenager he probably was. “I might be young and not have much experience in love, but I can tell when someone is madly in love. And you are definitely crazy in love. You’d have to be blind not to see the way you look at her and the way she looks at you.” Sometimes I wish he would be the serious, quiet person he was when I met him. Yet I couldn’t help but laugh.

“Guilty as charged,” I replied. And like that, the hostility and awkwardness between us was shattered. And I still was curious about his age and his past. Why did I have to be such a curious person?

I had been writing that until that afternoon when I was going to meet with the journalism team at my school for the first time. I had giving my teacher the green light on her proposal about me joining the journalism team, so I promised I would make it to that meeting. They met on Tuesdays and Thursdays, which was good for me, because I only went to Dr. Murphy’s office on Mondays and Fridays. Well I could meet her whenever I wanted, but those were the days I preferred to go there.

I had heard about the people in the team. I knew that the ‘leader’ of the team was a senior at our school and very demanding. I also heard the team was very critical when it came to articles and to deadlines. I was starting to feel nervous as I got near the door to the classroom where they met. I could hear noise inside. They were already there.

I opened my door and saw about seven people. Two girls were sitting on top of the teacher’s desk talking strongly about a subject. Three people were in their laptops writing articles. And two guys were directly in front of me on the other side of the room talking with a serious look on their face about something. Those two in particular intimidated me the most. In total there were three girls and four guys in the team. I would be the fifth guy. They all looked different. But all had one thing in common: their passion for writing.

When they heard the door close they all looked at me. I felt nervous because of the sudden attention. “You must be Kaleb,” the taller of the two guys who intimidated me said. I nodded.

He said “Mrs. Astbury showed us some of your work. You’re good. We already have some articles lined up, you can pick the ones you feel most comfortable with and get started on them. Oh, but before let us introduce ourselves. I’m Eric, this here is Dave,” he said talking about the other I felt intimidated by, then proceeded to introduce the rest of the crew “That over there in the ridiculous beanie is Brandon.” They laughed and Brandon stared at Eric menacingly. ”That is Andrew,” he pointed at the guy whose eyes didn’t leave the computer screen. “Rachel and Jillian,” he pointed at the two girls who were sitting at the desk. Then he paused and looked at the girl whose face had been covered by the computer screen the entire time. Apparently Eric had something going on with her because the way he said her name wasn’t how he said the other. “And this is Anna.”

Now there was no walking back.