"You never know what worse luck your bad luck has saved you from." – Cormac McCarthy

Note: Special thanks to CoderBee22 for the cover featured above!

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Every town has a quirk of its own.

When you travel from one place to another, you delve into another dimension. At first sight, the roads may be riddled with the same gray pebbles and sunlight bathes the suburbs in the same golden light as always, but when you venture deeper into the heart of your new home, the quirk begins to reveal itself from shadows of apparent normality.

Necmire has yet to find its quirk.

As a small, quaint town on the border of Massachusetts, Necmire was the very definition of normality. Thin roads sprawled out from the center in a random fashion, as though the architect had sketched the area with a blindfold on. The locals were nice enough, but tourists were few and far between. Since our closest neighbor happened to be Salem, people usually flocked over there to buy a few potions and whatnot. As far as I had lived in Necmire, which was for a couple of months, nothing special had popped out at me yet.

That was perhaps why I was seated on a balcony on the roof of Necmire High, staring out at flecks of paint which dotted the winding roads. That was what the students appeared to be. Just flecks of paint on a canvas. None of them stood out to me.

Maybe it was because I was new here, but when I lived in other cities, I would recognize the street vendor with mustard smeared across his forehead, or the businesswoman dressed in a pencil skirt, rushing to her next meeting with a phone wedged between her cheek and shoulder, or the golden retriever that fetched a branch for me every day. In Necmire, the faces were pixelated, harder to put a name to.

To give the town some credit, there were a couple of people I knew here. It was a stroke of luck to meet the Mayor while I was buying new textbooks. He was nice enough to introduce me to his daughter, who I befriended over having a similar sense of humor. My Latin teacher, Mr. Griffiths, also tended to pick on me to answer questions. Maybe he thought drawing attention to me would help my chances of making friends. I appreciated the sentiment, but it was more of a curse than a blessing.

"Zoey?"

The voice snapped me out of my daydream. My chin jerked up from where it had been resting on my hand, and I twisted around to see Mr. Griffiths standing there with a frown creasing his forehead. I instinctively shrunk back to the edge of the balcony. Oh my god, had I summoned him with my thoughts? Maybe that was the Necmire quirk, teachers who can read minds.

"What are you doing up here?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. His eyes slid downwards, and I followed his gaze to the camera in my slackened right hand. "Oh, a photography project. I should probably find somewhere else to grade papers, then."

In the haze of the summer heat, I'd forgotten why I was up here in the first place. My photography project wasn't due for another three months, but I had nothing else to do. Besides, what Necmire lacked in quirks, it made up for in scenery. The town really was a canvas, with dark green trees seeping through the forest to the left, and tottery old buildings which resembled cottages more than modern houses. This balcony gave me the perfect overview of the town, though I was currently more enamored with a potted daffodil placed stylistically in the corner.

"Wait, sir!" I called as Mr. Griffiths turned away to head back downstairs. "You can stay if you want. I can take this daffodil and find an empty classroom or something."

A smile broke through his frown as he turned back to me. "No, you should make use of the sunlight while you have it. These papers," he raised the stack for effect, "can wait."

I pulled a face. "You say that so casually. It's like you don't even know you hold the fate of a hundred students in your hands."

Mr. Griffiths let out a chuckle and said, "I should take a point off your paper for cheek, but you liven up my class, so I'll let it slide." He glanced at his watch. "Anyway, I should head off. Have fun with–"

He was cut off by a soccer ball which sailed towards the both of us, accompanied by shouts from below. We dived in opposite directions and the ball hurtled past where my head was a second ago, before bouncing down the stairs of the balcony. Mr. Griffiths had already scrambled to his feet while I was still catching my breath, clutching my camera to my chest like it was a newborn baby.

"Hey! Can you pass the ball down?" came a yell from below.

"You can have your ball back in detention!" Mr. Griffiths called down to the two boys standing near the school entrance. Even from a high vantage point, I could see their eyes widen in alarm. They began to trip over each other in their haste to escape before they were identified.

"Forget grading papers, you have two kids to catch," I commented, a laugh bubbling at my lips as Mr. Griffiths waved a hasty goodbye, gathered up his stack of papers, and pounded downstairs to chase after the escaping boys. No sooner than I had gotten to my feet had he already burst out the front entrance below.

There were several clumps of students gathered near the front steps of the school, like patches of grass dotting a canvas, if grass wore excessive layers of lipstick and varsity team merchandise. Even so, I was pleasantly surprised that this place wasn't a walking stereotype. I once spotted a hulking jock building robots with a girl whose hair was tied back in a sapphire braid. Another time, I came across a gangly ginger boy being taught how to kick a ball by a girl on the soccer team.

I try to consolidate those moments in my mind, but they slip away so quickly. None of these people were constants in my life. Maybe that was why I was taking so long to adjust. I had nothing to keep me here, except perhaps my connection to the Mayor and his daughter. There was nothing here to prevent Necmire from eventually becoming a ghost town in my memory.

The two boys who were trying to escape from detention were tearing their way across the courtyard, Mr. Griffiths hot on their heels. A laugh burst from my lips, scaring a couple of birds which had landed on the balcony rail to rest. Just as the two boys were caught, my gaze flicked back to where the ball had initially been kicked, and I was startled to see someone staring back at me.

Even from far below, the school librarian was recognizable under the thin frames of his glasses, which were perched on the bridge of his nose. I barely knew anything about him, as I never had much reason to visit the library in the past, but I knew he was not much of a talker. Most of the times I saw him, he had his nose buried in a book. None of the students paid much attention to him, and neither had I, until now. I never realized how piercing a look could be.

My face flushed as I realized what I was doing. Oh god, he probably thought I was spying on him. I may as well have brought a pair of binoculars and a bag of popcorn. I pretended to be distracted by a clump of bushes to my left, and when I looked down again, the librarian had vanished.

Though my standards were admittedly low, that was the strangest encounter I'd had since I arrived in Necmire. The librarian, of all people, was the one who rattled me, and he didn't have to say a single word to do so. It was just his demeanor, the way he tried to shrink himself and ended up standing out more in the process.

The camera in my hands suddenly beeped, which brought me back to my senses. I shook my head to rid myself of thoughts of the librarian and checked the battery, which was flashing a dangerous red.

"Oh, no," I muttered, eyes widening. "No, come on, don't die on me now, I need you."

The camera flickered back to life, but the low battery signal on the top left corner was hard to ignore. I placed the potted daffodil on the nearest bench, before bringing the camera up and snapping a few quick photos. The sun darted behind a cloud at that moment, so I took the opportunity to sit beside the daffodil and flick through my pictures.

Just as I slumped onto the bench, a faint whirring sound caught my ears. It was almost indistinguishable from the breeze that whipped through the trees, and by the time I was focusing my full attention on it, the sound had stopped. It was probably some construction worker nearby. The cozy cottages of Necmire were far less sturdy than they were pleasing to the eye.

When I leaned backward, something prodded the small of my back. "Ow! What the hell?"

I twisted around to find a silver nail protruding from the bench, which was presumably the culprit of my literal backstabbing. In fact, now that I looked at it properly, the whole bench was decrepit, with paint peeling off the sides in large flakes.

There were both pros and cons to Necmire sticking to tradition. On the pro side, the whole town looked like it came straight out of a fairytale book. On the con side, the infrastructure of the town desperately needed to be strengthened. If I wanted to be stabbed with a nail, I would've asked for it.

My camera beeped again, sounding more urgent than before. The pain drained out my mind and was replaced with alarm. None of the photos I took seemed just right, but I only had a few minutes to spare before my camera died. I scrambled to my feet as the whirring sound, which had stopped when I was poked by the nail, started up again, though I was too panicked to care.

Just as I was about to click the camera, there came a sudden sound from behind me. It was faint, and barely audible in the wind, but it was loud enough to be a distraction.

"Meow."

"What the–" I flinched at the interruption and accidentally flung my camera up in the air, which plummeted downwards and thudded on the ground with an ominous cracking noise. I spun around to meet a pair of bulbous yellow eyes with narrow slits for pupils. When I got a good gawk at it, I realized what had been making that whirring sound. "Where did you come from?"

The cat curled itself around my legs, purring all the while. It was sporting fur darker than night, upon which the whites of its eyes were even more prominent. I gently tried to remove the cat from my legs, but it only curled tighter, and let out a couple more meows for good measure. I had no idea what a cat was doing on the balcony. Maybe someone forgot to tell me our school mascot was a clingy feline.

The feline in question peered up at me, and I eventually caved in, giving it a few scratches behind the ears. Its purr seemed to soften, and against my own judgment, a faint smile curled my lips. As I glanced towards my fallen camera, however, my smile faded. "Oh, shit."

I yanked my leg insistently away from the black cat, which seemed to finally get the message and uncoiled itself from my leg. A thick knot was forming in my chest as I hurried over to the camera, picking it up with trembling fingers and inspecting it. Some of the screws inside the lens had been knocked loose, and the filter glass was cracked. I tried turning the camera on, but to no avail.

"Great," I muttered, shooting an accusing glare at the cat. "Look, I know you're cute, but you broke my camera, so you're not on my good side at the moment."

The cat responded in the most dignified way it could. "Meow."

Before I could scold it any further, the cat flicked its tail dismissively and padded downstairs. I briefly considered chasing after it, but soon came to my senses. Of all things which bothered me in this town, a librarian and a black cat were the main contenders. I needed to get my priorities straight.

I heaved a deep sigh and gathered up all my belongings, stuffing them in my messenger bag and slinging it over my shoulder. If I didn't get this camera fixed, my photography grade would end up in the dumpster.

On an ideal afternoon, I would be kicked back on a couch, stuffing my face with greasy foods and watching sitcoms until my eyes grew tired, but those days were hard to come by. I suppose a visit to the tech store wasn't the worst way to spend an afternoon.

As I sent a quick text to my parents to let them know where I was headed, I noticed the daffodil out of the corner of my eye. After shoving my phone into my jacket, I picked up the potted flower, which had the nerve to innocently emanate the same warm glow as the sun above.

"You know, I'm doing all this for you," I told the daffodil, placing it back on a corner of the balcony. "And honestly, I'm starting to reconsider whether you're worth it."

Then, I realized I was talking to a flower and hightailed it downstairs before anyone could check me into a psychiatric facility.

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Whoever placed Necmire High on the outskirts of town deserves to be sacked.

The town center was a ninety minute walk from the school, and that was only if you knew the shortcuts. I decided to take the scenic route, which curved the edge of the forest and arched over a murky blue river. The current had smoothened the rocks which were scattered throughout the river, and they glistened under the sunlight above.

It took me several minutes of squinting at the map apps on my phone to get in the right direction, and since I was new to the town, I avoided the shortcuts for fear of getting lost. That meant my journey from the balcony to where I was now, on the bridge over the river, had taken almost two hours. The sky was fading from blue to a smudged mixture of pink and purple.

I stuck to minding my own business on the pedestrian side of the bridge while cars rumbled past me. Though the walk was far longer than I had been prepared for, the Necmire scenery did make for some beautiful mementos, even though I had to take them with my phone camera. I stood aside to let a couple of joggers pass as I snapped some more quick pictures of the sunset.

"If I told him once, then I told him a thousand times..."

A voice behind me was being carried over by the wind. I looked around, trying not to appear too stalkerish, and caught a glimpse of a guy around my age, holding a phone to his ear. The creases on his forehead grew deeper as he spoke. "I know, but he was supposed to record the voiceover. How are we supposed to submit the project without a voiceover?"

He was glaring at the river before, but chose that moment to look up and catch my eye. My heart skipped a beat as his steel grey eyes frowned at me, not with the piercing look of the librarian, but with a mixture of confusion and amusement. My eyes widened, and I looked away so quickly that I probably gave myself whiplash. I could feel the flush in my cheeks deepening.

As I stowed my phone back in my jacket and started walking again, I strained my ears to catch more snippets of his conversation, but no sooner than I started to listen, he hung up. Maybe he knew I was eavesdropping on his conversation and wanted nothing more to do with the stalker walking in front of him. Or maybe he was checking out my butt. Oh my god, what if he was staring at my butt?

Just as I was debating whether to turn around and catch him in the act, a sudden force slammed me into the side of the bridge. The space between myself and the river seemed to elongate as I let out a scream, toppling over the thin rod which usually prevented pedestrians from falling to their deaths.

My keys hurtled out from one of my bag pockets, and my vision honed in on them. I made a wild lunge and caught the keys on my wrist. My other hand flailed stupidly as I tried to grab onto anything which could keep me on the bridge, but it only grasped thin air.

The only way for me seemed to be down, and down I went, about to end my unknown existence in this unknown town, and the rational side of my mind was still forcing my hand to grope uselessly for a barricade, but there was no stopping my trajectory into the riverbed, nothing that could prevent my skull from cracking on the boulders below.

Then, my hand suddenly met a surface.

"Hold on!" a voice shouted above, and my mind obeyed the instruction without thought, and then I was being hauled up by a smudge, a face growing in and out of focus.

I collapsed onto the bridge in a dazed heap, vaguely noticing the huddle of concerned people around me. There were sighs of relief and questions peppering the air. Various faces swam in my vision, but I could only focus on the one directly above me. The face of the person who had pulled me to safety.

The face with the steel grey eyes.

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A/N: It's 3am right now, I spent the past four hours writing this, I fell ill yesterday and am delirious at the moment, this chapter is super late, I'm so sorry. I forgot how difficult first chapters are to write (and also how much of a perfectionist I am). I know this chapter is shit, but it's an unedited draft produced from sleep deprivation, so don't expect Shakespeare or anything. I'm just trying to get the words out.

Just a disclaimer, I'm new to this fantasy thing. Everything I've written prior to this story has been fully set in the real world, so bear with me. Things are about to get trippy. Also, I'm doing Camp NaNo, so everything I'm posting will be rough. Expect minor plot holes and confusing bits. I will edit later on.

Thank you so much for reading! Let me know what you thought of this chapter by leaving some votes and comments <3

~ Yilei