"The dead requests five more minutes." I muttered, slamming my face into the pillow again. Doe held onto my legs, dragging me out of bed, complaining about my obstinate sleeping habits. "It's like trying to raise a corpse," Doe would say. 

Sometimes, you'd joke about how someone wasn't human, in my case, it'd be literal. I am an dark dweller, a myth. All those fables you've heard about blood sucking vampires, hungry werewolves and ever stinking ogres are real. Well, at least a version of them. 

But that didn't stop us from claiming place as humans. Especially, dark dwellers. 

"You," Doe gnarred, "weigh so much, it'd put an elephant to shame." I lashed out my leg in return, nearly getting Doe. Within an hour, I was tip-to-toe dressed up and preoccupied with sulking at Doe. Honest work. 

"Calista, you are a dark dweller-"

"So? I still need my beauty sleep." I protested. Numerous stories pointed out stuff that couldn't be explained as "magic", caused by cursed witches and vengeance seeking wizards or by old, dingy warlocks. It all existed, just in a different part of the world. And it was all true, except for the fact that witches are ugly, warty and eat human toe nails. Excuse me, I am very hygienic and do not own dead taste buds. 

"Sleep? More like hibernating." Doe said and stalked off to answer the door. "Hey, Alan." she said, batting her eyelashes. If I hadn't know better,  I 'd think Doe had a crush on him. To make things extra weird, Alan's my cousin, well, step-cousin. When I was adopted by mama Graphael, I discovered that witches have absurd titles as well. I've never known who my real parents were and honestly, I don't care.

Me and Doe lived in New York, typical human place. Who knew these guys had, like, 500+ Pokemon cards by now?

"Ready?" Alan strode into the kitchen, his peach-blonde hair unruly as usual, and his conscience clumsy enough to miss one of his contact lens, which made his eyes pose as blue and green. I think I will let his suffer through the day like that. 

"No."

"Perfect, come on." I grabbed my bag, my beloved waffle and my horrendous homework. And, of course, I drowned satisfaction as I watched panic etch on Alan's face. He'd forgotten his work as everyday. 

Doe joined us outside, "You could say some excuse abo-"

"What am I going to say? My dog ate my homework? I don't have a dog. I have a lizard." Alan dismayed. 

"Your lizard ate your homework?" Doe suggested, "Say it was really, really hungry."

"A ravenous lizard? Seriously?" I shook my head. Idiots. 

Doe frowned, "But it has a large appetite."

Stratey Institute looked just as it had the day before– standing. In normal dark dweller schools, the entire building would set on fire ever once a while. The institute bus's tires screeched to a stop, flinging me onto the back of another seat. I swear the bus driver did this on purpose everyday, just to cherish to withering glares the teens shot him.

Prodigies exited the motorised vehicle, chattering and gossiping. I noticed a new addition to the start of the term– A geeky kid with humongous spectacles, enclosed in a thick aura of textbooks, with red freckles similar his blazing red hair. 

I strode away to my locker, updating for my first session. Just as I was about to leave, a neon note caught my sight. 

I know you witch

Momentarily, no human knew my identity, so of course I nearly panicked. I was caught off guard but I pretended oblivious to the note and hastened forward my session, my brain regurgitating   OH NO! 

"Morning students."

"M o r n I n g Mrs. Kelly."

"I expect more enthusiasm." The teacher chortled.

"Morning Mr-"

"Not enou-"

"MORNING MRS. KELLY." The prodigies screamed, sending a chagrined Mrs. Kelly huffing away. I suppressed a giggle, seeing the teacher swell up. Next, took place the announcement of the new admissions– red head and funky hair. 

The kid with red hair was Martin (splendid) and another student was Chase. I found the fact that my pet cat and Martin had the same names really hilarious. Oddly, the only thing profound about Chase was... well, his funky brown hair. And those light brown eyes. Also, the way h-

"...and did you even know that all odd numbers consist of the lexicon 'e' ?"  a squeaky voice rhapsodised beside me. "Uh-huh." I replied laconically, seconds before a horrible realisation dawned upon me– Martin occupied the desk beside me. 

 I glowered at no one in particular and thumped my book shut in frustration. Alan, who was in the same class as me, winked at me, unbearably smug. I performed my best impersonation of the I'm REALLY mad at you look at him. 

why?

I don't know, I just am. I noticed Chase pervade the seat on my left– opposite to Martin. Now I was stuck with two newbies. Awesome.

"You may begin... NOW!" Huh? I barely heard Mrs. Kelly, when I cast a impassive glance at my desktop– A test paper now staring pompously back at me. How did she sneak up another of those bothersome sheets of rubbish, I still don't know.

Who was the first president of Embu? There's a place called Embu? The author of the novel pride and prejudice is _ _________  and h- okay, I began to panic. I am reasonably sure Mrs. Kelly is my maths teacher and definitely not general knowledge which is literally too general. 

Even after I helpfully point out the error, the teacher swiftly ignores my advice and demands that I finish the paper.

"Honestly, I don't know why you didn't use witch-y stuff to ace that thing." Alan said, shaking his head a little to violently. "Alan, I seriously think if I had conjured up the test answers with some chanting, I'd have attracted some attention." I complained. Alan's "wizard" skills were half as proper as mine, infrequently conjuring up things at random. Sometimes it would be good– like the time he sneezed harshly and a hankie appeared, marking it's conquest over snot. And sometimes... well, he might just stub his toe, holler his breath out and BOOM! A first aid kit will land flat on his hurt toe. 

"Ugh, I hate it when you make annoyingly good points,"  Alan grumbled, "At least spaghetti never argues with me." He looked as if he might Marry that bowl of cafeteria spaghetti. Lunch was delicious– only if it wasn't the sloppy cafeteria food or Alan the one who was eating. Unlike most of the other dark dwellers, Alan might actually eat human toe nails if they tastes good with spaghetti. 

Before I could snap back at him, someone outside the cafeteria shouted, "SOME JUVENILES ARE ABOUT TO FIGHT IN HERE! COME ON UP!" 

The whole place turned to chaos. Everyone etched to see a real glorious fight– especially if the principal was somehow involved (Hazardously long story: juicy gossip) 

I heard voices form the nearby locker rooms. 

"Give it to me newbie."

"But-"

"I said GIVE IT!"

I rushed in, with an abundance of prodigies following, to see Giles cornering another newbie greedily. I also had a partial view of the rest of the room, including the part where Chase was half listening to the ongoing brawl. 

 Apparently, the new kid owed Giles a twenty years of lunch because he existed, but the scrawny boy had the guts to refuse. 

Giles finally lost his temper, holding the kids by the scruff of his neck, threatening to toss him in the trash can, when I decided to interrupt. 

"Giles, leave the flappy piece of paper alone." And Giles grudgingly harkened to question my controversial life decisions.

"Why would I do that, Cal?" 

"Because I would knock you on your ass if you wouldn't." I replied. Giles knew very well by now, that I mean my threats. Giles had once been the most unpopular kid in the hub of the most unpopular kids and the honourable me had saved him from certain self destruction.  One unfortunate day, we had been compelled to work together for the school museum trip and that's how our friendship, more like mutual cooperation, had begun. While Giles had broken my temper and also a few bones, I'd found the guy...interesting. Before that moment, I'd never met a maths geek who could skate board and shriek one of those rock songs. 

"T-than-" the skinny kid stammers, relief flooding his face, free from Giles's grasp.

"Beat it, " I say, making the best impersonation of imposing, "or else I'll be the one eating your lunch." The poor kid whimpers and scurries away.

"Aww, come on!" The rest of the prodigies eventually exit the locker room. Pathetic bunch of rats. They couldn't, wouldn't, fight themselves, expecting newbies to do it. Once upon a time, during the dark days, I was one of the new kids. Let's save the rubbish for later. 

"For one terrifying millisecond, I thought you might actually let him go with a hug or something." Giles admitted. 

"I wouldn't," I agreed, "And wallet please!" Giles grumbles something about girls these days and hesitantly returns my rightful wallet. 

"And about the b-" I began, but am unfortunately interrupted by Giles. He points to Chase, who is definitely in the land of dreams, staring at his fingernails.

"Its nothing much, "I roll my eyes, "Just telling you that under no circumstances would you dare to "borrow" any bikes forever, okay? Your neighbours, for some reason, have been complaining to me for the past few days. Shoot, they even seem to think that I'm involved."

"Maybe."Was all he says he gets out of the room. Ugh.

"You shouldn't do that, you know." I almost miss Chase speaking, lower than a whisper. 

"Do what?"

"That, " Finally, some proof that he is alive, "Being cool and then being not cool."

"Are all boys this frustrating?"

"Huh?"

What does he know about cool? I spared him an exasperated glance, "Well, lord not-cool-hair, its better if you take care of your own business in this place. I know what I'm doing."

He snaps up in bewilderment, "My hair is amazing."

I don't reply and leave the room. Part of me wonders how Chase proclaims his hair as amazing.