Gretel. Gretel. Gretel.

I let my pen thonk against my head. My mom was upset with me for something that wasn't my fault. Gretel. The name made me want to march back into that shop and give him a taste of his own medicine. I sat down, thinking of how to add him as another character in my story to finish him off.

As sad as it sounded, I wasn't good with dealing with people in real life. I made them suffer in my stories. I wasn't the most muscular guy in the world, and whenever it came to fighting, I was always the first one on the ground. I continued writing which snatched me away from my anger. The horrible highlights of my day began to fade, and I was feeling better again.

On my way to my bed, one of the floorboards creaked. I noticed it stuck up a bit. Using my foot, I pushed it down, but it shot right up. Ignoring it, I went straight to the window with my flashlight. I didn't have anything better to do. There were no crows this time. Just me facing the darkness. Never have I felt so homesick. The worse part was that none of my friends messaged me or anything. They were mad at me for not telling them about the move.

A knock at the door startled me. It was my dad. He walked inside, carrying pencils in his hand with a broad grin on his face. "Dante's going to church I hear," he flickered four pencils at my legs.

I sighed, wanting so badly to throw them back at him. "Not now, dad. It's not a church. It's a school and it's weird."

He walked toward my laptop, making me a little nervous. Looking at my screen, I noticed a chapter was up. A chapter I had written, and he began reading it. "The hog squealed, staring at Travis with an eyeless gaze." Kane's head shot back, and he started laughing. "Why do you write this...creepy stuff? You this isn't good for your mother if she reads it. It'll just remind her-"

I walked over to the laptop and shut it. "What do you want?" I said, trying my best not to yell.
I turned away and walked over to my bed fast. My mother walked inside the second I sat down.

"Delete that shit. All of it. You should get your mind away from this creepy stuff, ghost, abandoned buildings!" Kane balled up his fist while glaring at me. I could smell the alcohol on him. He was drunk again.

"What's going on now?" My mother crossed her arms while standing in front of the door.

"Who does he thinks he's talking to? Asking me what I want as if he's the one paying the bills," he spat.

"That's not true. He came in here bothering me. Dad's drunk!"

"Oh stop it," my mother snapped. "Everyone seems to be bothering you today."

He walked towards the door, hiding his smile.
My mom followed behind him, slamming the door shut. They began arguing with each other. I was steaming. Since my sister died I know he secretly blamed me. Both of them.  Every time he could he would purposely make me angry or taunt me. The worst part was that Kane was actually a coward. He never would hit me around mom, only when she wasn't around. He didn't feel like a dad to me. I lost him a long time ago. Same time I lost my sister.

***

The next morning I was driven to school by my mother. Mrs. Keen argued about how the kids wore a light green and gray plaid uniforms for school and that she had told us that yesterday. That was not true.

Mom had to purchase a uniform for eighty dollars at the school. "I don't understand why it's this much money," I said while buttoning the shirt. I showed my mom the holes in the gray pants. "It's so tacky."

"Shut up," she snapped. "I'm spending extra money for gas because you got us banned from the thrift shop. Now I have to drive almost ten miles to the nearest store that sells items we need for the house. You have no rights to talk about money until you get a job, which you will."

I let her fuss at me as we walked back to the school. Mrs. Keen told my mother that she would handle me from now. I looked over my shoulder as my mom left me alone with the old woman. Shoving me forward, she took me into a class that was straight ahead. The place wasn't big at all, and if I was correct, there seemed to be only six big rooms in the entire place. Each doorway had a statue of a praying angel next to it, and all of them were eyeless. In my mind, I thought it was cool. It had given me an idea for my story. However, it was still creepy.

I was pushed into a huge class with over twenty kids. Gloomy, sad, dull eyes all fell on me. Not a smile, not an emotion came from anyone. The strange part was that these kids didn't look my age. Only a few did. A lot of them were smaller than me. Way smaller. The smallest looked to be around six years old.

"5B, this is Dante," Mrs. Keen said with her eyes staring at the wall. "I expect all of you to be kind to him while teaching him our ways. Those city kids can get out of hand here, breaking tradition and what not, and we do not want that in our town."

"Oh boy," a familiar kid in the back said. It took me a second to realize it was Gretel, the boy with the buzz cut from the thrift shop.

I cringed at the sight of him, already assuming I would hate this place. A woman who I believed to be the teacher walked inside and put her hand on my shoulder. I looked at her. Long-nosed, sharp brown eyes, wild rusty red hair that curled at her shoulders, and wearing glasses the size of cell phone screens. I almost laughed at the humongous glasses that hung slightly off her nose.

"The new boy," Mrs. Keen said then exited the room.

"Great," she stated in the most boring tone I had ever heard. "Take a seat next to Addison Hawkins."

As if I was supposed to know who the heck that was. I looked for an empty seat and found one in the middle row, in front of Gretel. Next to the chair, sat a girl with no hair and a face as mean as Mrs. Keen. She rolled her eyes at me. With my small bag full of a few notebooks and pencils that Kane had thrown at me, I took my seat.

"Let us pray," the teacher said before I could remove my bag.

No introduction. Good thing the teacher's name was drawn in sloppy letters at the top of the board. Rye Miller, it said. I watched as the class raised their palms in the air. While looking at their palms, they covered their eyes and began humming something while the teacher sang in a horrible cracking voice.

"May the bones be found and put away. To never see the light of day. Perish thy killer. Perish thy fiends. May we sleep in sound, never hearing her screams." Rye chanted.

The melody of the song was sleepy, sluggish, and low. When all the hands slid back down, Rye Miller shot a mean glance at me through her glasses. "You will learn that song before the day is over with. I refuse not to protect my students."

Everyone, even the teacher looked at me as if I was the villain. The bad guy. As the teacher talked about something they had discussed last week concerning a new construction in town, I couldn't stop thinking about the song.

Who was she...?

***

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