Hey y'all... 

Here's the first chapter for Blood Eyes!

I'm going to try for more frequent but shorter chapters and see how that goes. 

I personally thinks this chapter sucks, but I'm also still trying to get to know the characters. I'm still pumped for this new series, though :) 

Please VOTE and COMMENT! :D 

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Here's a Marvel-to-Crimson Chronicle Guide: 

Tony Stark = Mark Harvey 

Natasha Romanoff = Scarlett Patalier (now Brigham)

Clint Barton = Lee Brigham 

Loki = Rani Marahn 

Peter Parker = Andrew Riddle 

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By the way, Anthony Dumitrescu is played by Sebastian Stan. 

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Chapter 1:

On the same day I find out a witch and a yellow-eyed boy is stalking me, my best friend comes out as a lesbian.

I probably should've seen the signs. Giovanna has been restless lately, and every time her little sister Carolina asks if she has a crush on the neighbor boy named Stanton, she blushes and finds some excuse to get out of the room. At first, I (and Emmaline) assumed that it was because she actually did have a crush on Stanton. But when I asked Kyle about it, he just leaned against the kitchen counter while cutting up carrots and frowned.

I live with the Calens more often than not, mostly because Scarlett and Lee are shitty parents. Sure, they took me in when my parents were killed when I was a baby, but they haven't been very parental since- to me or my stepbrother Adam. I don't care for me. I can handle myself. But Adam is taunted at school because he has a limp when he walks, plus he's biracial. So as we were growing up, I tended to do a lot of schoolyard beating up. Until peaceful Adam told me not to and for his sake, I stopped.

I guess I shouldn't complain much. The Calen household isn't the worst place to be. It's always crowded, nine out of ten times Kyle is always smiling, and the people here genuinely care about each other.

It's too sappy for me. But I deal with it.

Sort of.

Okay, not really.

I really hate stupid, cliched beginnings, but it really is a normal day at first. I could barely sleep. My jaw is in agony. My adopted parents are gone.

The rest of the morning follows like clockwork.

When my alarm clock goes off, I smash the half-broken snooze button. When Kyle shouts upstairs that I have ten minutes until the bus leaves without me, I shout back that it can go to Timbuktu without me for I care. Two minutes later, Giovanna gently shakes my shoulders, and I sluggishly get up.

I throw on my usual ensemble of ripped tights, black leather skirt and old striped shirt that has a faded smiley face. Most of my clothes I get from the vintage flea markets or stores along the Pacific Highway. Or I steal from Ajia, one of my best friends.

Once I finish my makeup with two minutes to go, I run into Dean in the hallway. Kyle and Emmaline's son is my age, but that's where the similarities stop. He has bright blue eyes, like his father, tan skin, broad shoulders, and dark brown hair splashed with blond from the sun. He's wearing pressed shorts and a partially unbuttoned dress shirt, which is his general attire.

He grins at me, going through our usual ritual of teasing. "Morning, bedhead. Sleep well?"

I roll my eyes at him. "Morning, frat boy."

I push past him down the stairs into the kitchen. Eighties music is playing loudly, and Kyle is, as usual, in the kitchen, singing along while making omelettes. Carolina and Dean's twelve year old twin siblings, Elizabeth and Zachary, are at the overgrown table, just about finished eating. Dean must have already finished, and although Giovanna usually helps Kyle with the dishes, she is sitting silently at the kitchen counter, swirling pieces of her scrambled eggs around her plate.

But I'm too much of an asshole caught up in my own problems to notice or do anything about it. "Is Emmaline already at the clinic?" I ask, sidestepping Sarge, our five year old German Shepherd.

"Yep," says Kyle, handing me a plate. "What's up with you, did you get any sleep?"

"No more than I usually do," I say, putting the plate on the counter. "I'm not hungry."

"Teeth bothering you?"

"No." Technically, a lie. But my teeth aren't bothering me as much as other things.

"Gotta give me something, Madame Bride."

"Would you fucking stop calling me that?" I demand. "I'm not Dracula's bride, I'm not part of a cult, and I wear my makeup however the hell I want to wear it. Just because you guys are religious doesn't mean I have to be. And I'm sorry I'm not completely straight either."

Giovanna bites her lip and keeps playing with her eggs.

"What's a cult, Daddy?" asks Elizabeth curiously on her way to put her plate in the sink.

"Don't worry about it, baby," says Kyle, ruffling her hair. "You, Carolina, and Adam go ahead and get to school."

The three kids leave the kitchen without a word.

"I'm sorry, Victoire," says Kyle. His words make me pause. I was expecting him to yell at me. "I know you don't like it when I call you that." He runs his hands through his black hair, the ends of which are turning a faint gray. "Let's start this morning over, okay?"

Dean runs into the kitchen. "Hey, girls, the bus is here."

He looks over the scene, obviously notices something is wrong, and then vanishes into the hallway like a ghost.

Silently, I grab my backpack and make my way out of the kitchen, too. Way to go, Victoire. Ten out of ten. Great start to the day.

As I head into the foyer where Dean is waiting, I hear Kyle asking Giovanna when her big brother Antonio is getting home. I don't hear her response.

"So what's new?" asks Dean while we wait.

"Nothing," I mutter, scudding my Converse against the hardwood floor.

He raises his eyebrows but at that point, Giovanna walks into the foyer and the three of us leave for school.

*

I don't hate school, per se, but I don't exactly love it either.

Basically, everyone's feelings about the last seasons of Supernatural. Dean makes fun of me for liking that show even though it's twenty years old.

Speaking of Dean, right after third period chemistry, he shows up around the corner. Leaning against the locker and tossing some of his hair, which also makes his cross necklace swing from his neck, he asks, "So on a scale of one to ten, how screwed are you after that quiz?"

I'm about to answer when a blur of dreadlocks and bright colored bracelets manifests itself in front of us.

"Hi Ajia," I say, pushing aside my bleached blonde hair, partially tied back with long braids. "I just took the chem quiz and-"

"Hold that thought," says Ajia, putting a finger in the air. "Shit just went down in lit class. Like really bad. Giovanna just went home, and she-"

"Oh gracious, did you tell them?" Another figure appears. Ayaan, dressed in his customary pale colors and Martha's Vineyard bowtie. His black, very curly hair is slightly mussed, and his dark brown eyes are wide.

"Tell us what?" asks Dean.

"Giovanna... came out," says Ajia.

I stare. So does Dean. I'm staring because I'm shocked, and also slightly guilty about being selfish this morning when something was clearly upsetting Giovanna.

"What?" Dean asks. "What do you mean? What happened?"

"Lit?" I ask. "So it was in Anthony's class?"

"Yeah," says Ajia.

With that, I spin on my heel and dash through the hallway. I have pretty good hearing, and as I fly up the stairs, I hear distant murmurings about Giovanna. "Lesbian" "freak" and "hypocrite" are the more common ones. I'm tempted to shove all the offenders into the huge recycling cans, but I don't bother with the time or the detentions I'll most likely get.

I run into the room at the end of the hallway, where thankfully, Anthony Dumitrescu is at his desk.

Nobody calls him Mr. Dumitrescu, even if they bothered to try to pronounce it. He's young enough- in his late twenties to early thirties- that he doesn't care if we call him Anthony. Most of the girls in his literature classes think he's the hottest thing since Mt. Vesuvius. He's not bad looking. Dark brown hair, sometimes slicked back, sometimes at the nape of his neck, coupled with dark, soulful eyes, slight stubble, and a chiseled face. Like I said, not bad. And the fact that he speaks Serbian or something like that seems to make him even more appealing.

I don't really like my teachers, but Anthony is my general exception. He's young enough to understand teenagers, and he makes a visible effort to get to know us. Plus, his room is a non-judgemental zone. And shy Giovanna, who usually doesn't like talking to people outside her family- real or adopted- has taken a shine to Anthony. Another reason I do more than tolerate him. He never seems to tire from Giovanna's questions. At first, I thought Giovanna might be like the rest of the awestruck, lovesick girls, but with this present reveal, I guess not.

"What happened?" I demand, slamming the door shut.

"Hey, Victoire," says Anthony in his husky, calming voice. "You're talking about Giovanna, huh?"

"The hell I'm talking about Giovanna," I say. Another Anthony bonus: he doesn't really care if we curse. "What. Happened?"

Anthony leans back in his chair. "Okay. We were talking about Metamorphoses. You know, the Greek anthology we're working on. Ovid."

"Bullshit about Ovid." I brace myself against the desk. "What about Giovanna?"

Anthony sighs. "We started a discussion about sexuality, brought on by the story of Myrrha and Cinyras. Malia Crimson brought up how girls like boys and boys like girls, and then suddenly, Giovanna said that sometimes, girls like girls. Like her."

My jaw drops. "It's... but... Giovanna isn't..."

"Giovanna didn't mean to. She must have had a good reason for not coming out until now, even accidentally," says Anthony. "Lots of teenagers do. Especially shy, religious ones like Giovanna. She probably thinks she's an abnormality or an abomination."

"What happened after?" I ask.

Anthony's dark eyes are drawn. "I quieted the class down, but not in enough time to prevent some of the comments."

"What comments?"

"A couple people called her a hypocrite for being a Christian, and now coming out as a lesbian. I know how much Giovanna's religion means to her. It must make it even harder."

I throw my hands up in the air. "But why? Why can she be both?"

"You're saying she is a hypocrite?" asks Anthony. "Like those other people thought?"

"No," I sputter. "But I don't see how you can be both."

"You can," says Anthony. "Religious people can be homosexual and homosexuals can be religious. But it does make what Giovanna is going through harder."

"How do you know this?" I sneer. "Are you secretly gay?"

Anthony smiles a little. "No. But my brother is. And we were raised Catholic."
"Are you still Catholic?"

"Yes."

I cross my arms and toss my hair, glancing out the window at the blue March sky.

"I sent Giovanna home because she was visibly upset," continues Anthony. "She started crying immediately after she said that, burying her face in her arms. She wouldn't move for several moments until I persuaded her, and then I escorted her to Principal Mattson, who called Kyle Calen."

"Thanks a lot," I say, grabbing the backpack I threw on an empty desk.

"How have you been doing, Victoire?" Anthony asks. "You seem upset lately."

"I'm always upset," I say. "Get used to it."

"I'm here if you need to talk to anyone."

"Don't get your hopes up."

"Well, I'll see you at dinner at least," says Anthony.

I nearly run into the doorframe. "Huh?"

"Kyle invited me over for dinner tonight. After things blow over with Giovanna. He thinks I might be able to talk to her a little more."

"Great," I say. "Now I'm bringing the teacher home. That'll make the other kids like me much more."

Anthony smiles. "Constantly flipping them off probably doesn't help."

"Can't hurt," I say, turning on my heel and walking out of the classroom.

And this is all before the witch.

And the boy with the yellow cat's-eyes. 

What do you think? Please VOTE and COMMENT! :) 

Maybe I'll update tomorrow, but we'll see. 

xoxo Sierra xoxo