You can't allow yourself to draw any suspicion. More of it is bad. Therefore, the only thing you can do is act natural. Today is just another of the many days you've lived. A normal day. Yes.
And so, you take your backpack. You pack up the books and homework for today, eat breakfast, watch some morning news and TV, then proceed to give mom a goodbye kiss before leaving. You also see dad leaving for work, since you left early so you can take the longer route to school. Hampshire street doesn't seem... particularly safe.
~~~
You arrive at St. Harron's School for "Gifted" Youth. It is a tall, 3-story building with several wings. Made out of dark, blue-ish gray bricks on the outside, there are numerous windows for the classrooms visible all across the building. The entrance to the school is a wide, paved road with several trees to the sides, as well as branchings that go in different directions, like one that goes to the playground behind the school. The name of the school isn't the most accurate; you're no dummy yourself, but there's plenty of dunces inside the walls of this 'social prison' as you've come to call it. James is the best example of that; he was held back two times, meaning he'd be finishing Middle School right about now if he weren't so stupid. Then again... thinking of him makes you shudder. Is he even still alive? Whatever.
You go up the grand stairs of the entrance. There are several other students entering; most of them are random faces blending with the crowd, but some you recognize. Either as classmates or simply because they... well...
"What's up, freak?" Thud. With a hefty move of two shoulders, you hit the wall next to the entrance. In front of you stand two bullies. You don't recognize their names or even nicknames. You do recognize their faces, though. This isn't the first time this is happening. In a way, one could say you are... famous. And not in a good way. This isn't the 'Ben Shapiro' kind of fame. It's more of the 'Radical Feminist' fame; people only like you if they share your worldview. Otherwise, they hate you or laugh at how stupid you are.
"H-hi..." you meekly answer. "I'm..." You feel pressure on your chest, being pushed against the wall even harder. It becomes difficult to breathe, so you stop speaking.
"Say," the one on the left starts, turning his head to his colleague, "do we take his cash, or do we beat him up?"
His friend shrugs. "Why not both?"
"Good with me."
Punch after punch.
Several blows are delivered to your chest and torso for no other reason than that you happened to be here. People are looking at the spectacle either with grins of joy or with looks of disgust, turning their heads away quickly. This is normal for you. No one bothers to help you because your kind of fame isn't welcome here; except for, perhaps, any teachers that happen to be around. You don't know anyone; everyone knows you. The odd one out. The black sheep. The weirdo; that's you. All because you were enthusiastic about magic. About ghosts. Vampires. Because you genuinely believed in them. And that is why people thought you were a freak. You would show your drawings to classmates, theorize about the supernatural, and talk all nerdy about what you've read about Satan on Wikipedia.
You feel kind of guilty because of it. Socially guilty. In retrospect; all of that was a mistake. Even if the paranormal exists, you shouldn't have talked about it. You were stepping into a pile of social resentment as soon as you started talking about the topic.
...
Battered, on the floor, with quite a few bruises and your lunch money forcibly taken from your pockets, you just lay there with tears in your eyes for a few seconds.
This is normal.
You're not.
That's the end of it...
~~~
A few lessons in; you give your assignment. Your whole body still hurts like hell and you haven't eaten anything. You're sitting alone in the corner of the hallway, hoping no one will come to bother you. Overall, your mood for today is ruined.
Suddenly, someone runs up to you.
"Hey! Hey! Felix!" You recognize the voice. In addition, it is too warm and friendly for it to be a bully. Not to mention, everyone calls you freak, not 'Felix.'
You look up. "Hi," the voice says.
Sigh. "What do you want, Adam?"
"Not in the mood?" The boy in front of you muses, pouting.
The one you are talking to is one called Adam Brooks. Remember when I told you that your fame is comparable to that of a Radical Feminist? Only those that share your worldview like you. Well, that rule applies to this situation as well.
"Not exactly," you turn your head away to avoid eye-contact.
"Awww.... What happened?!" Adam sits down next to you.
You don't know his age, but he doesn't look older than 8. He seems to be more naive than you used to be; he genuinely believes that crap even though your once ardent belief started fading at around his age. In a way, this kind of faith is inspiring. Like a torch spreading your old ideals and shining them straight in your cynical face. Unlike you; however, no bully dares even lay a finger on him. He is the principal's son. Since he's also an odd one out, the two of you have a kind of symbiotic relationship. It's hard to call it friendship, but he's the only one you can talk to safely and get a stone off your chest without being called insane. Not to mention, he's the only one you can really say 'hi' to. Unfortunately, you don't feel the mood to talk.
"Nothing."
"Did they beat you up?! Come on, just go to the nurse's offi--"
"I'm... fine! Okay?"
...
"Okay. You don't have to be so aggressive, Felix! It's bad for your heart!"
You don't know that much about Adam, neither does he know much about you. He enjoys seeing your drawings, hearing your theories, and talking to you in general, but again; you're not exactly friends. You never hang out per say, nor do you tell each other important life stories, or go to each others' houses, etcetera. You know he also has an older sister, also going to this school, but she's not interested in supernatural bullshit, unlike her little brother.
Adam has a fairly straightforward appearance; fair, very pale, blue eyes, short black hair, and a very smooth, thin jawline. His arms look rather... measly, so does his body. He's pretty scrawny, not a bit of muscle or fat tissue on his body. You bet that even you, one person who isn't even that strong to begin with, could lift him with your arms if you tried. That said, his appearance isn't what matters; his personality takes the crown. Adam is an energetic boy, always excited, always cheerful, always easygoing. And almost always, he forgives you anything harsh you could say to him because you're feeling down on that day. He's one of the few things keeping you from suicide, the other being your parents. And yes, you have considered suicide before. Not many times, and never for too long; but sporadically, it was a dark thought creeping in the darkest depths of your mind.
"Mhm," you shrug off his words. They come in through one ear and leave through the other.
"Well, anyway! Can I see your diary? Please! Pretty please?!"
"Why?" You turn back to face him suddenly, a bit surprised.
"I think I saw a monster, Felix!"
"Ha, ridiculous." You reach into your backpack and hand him the journal. You laugh off his words with a bit of giggling; your frown turning into a smile. Then again, perhaps you aren't one to judge? You've seen what seems to have been a monster yesterday. Enough to push you to go on a paranoid spree of collecting defensive armaments against evil spirits and other paranormal creatures. In a way, your rejection of his claim is like a habit... no, more like an instinct. Because you've been persecuted for believing such things so easily in the past, now, you automatically assume a cynical and skeptical view when one makes any such claim. It's hypocritical, even you're aware of it, but you can't do anything. It happens by itself; you think one thing but say another. A mask and a face. The mask being your cynism, but deep down, you believe what he's saying.
Adam looks through the first pages, at your drawings. "Nope! You know all monsters, but I can't see it here. That means I was wrong!"
Adam stands up. "Well, that'd be all. See y---" you grab his hand and stop him. "Wait."
"Ho?!" Adam turns back to you.
"What did it look like?....... The monster, I mean."
"Uh... it was tall. Like, almost two meters tall. And it wore a really, really, really heavy raincoat! And it had creepy tentacles, too. It probably wasn't a monster, though, since it just stared at my while I passed by on the street. I probably just imagined it all---"
"Where?"
"Hm?" Adam's confused again.
"Where did you see it?"
"Hampshire Street, why?"
Shock fills you. So... it wasn't telekinesis?! It was some kind of... tentacular appendage! So thin you couldn't even see it from so far away. It all makes sense.
"Did it speak?" you slide several pages by and cross out 'telekinesis' near the powers section, then write in 'Tentacles. Strong enough to drag a human across the ground.'
"Speak? Like us? Wait... was it really a monster, Felix?"
"Did. It. Speak?"
"Not as far as I know!" Adam's happy if confused face turned to a disturbing horror.
"Okay..."
[] Skip the rest of today and go to hunt down the bastard.
[] Turn in this information to the authorities.
-[] The police.
-[] The local church.
[] Stay in school and do more research; on both the monster and the information grandfather gave you.
[] Ask Adam.
-[] Ask him what? (Write-in.)
[] (Write-in.)
