Harpier

Typically found in families of up to 6, they reside most commonly in caves found beside the sea, and of a Celtic background. Their name was originally the words 'sciathanach amhain', translating from Gaelic to mean 'winged one'. While not much is known about them, they are easily adaptable, capable of spending days at sea and still keep their energy. They have great wings to fly with, controlling the winds with ease. They typically resemble a harpy(which they are commonly mistaken for, or angels of a sort), with bird feet and talons, a tail, yet no beak and normal hands, sometimes a little longer and more clawed depending on the individual, hence the name Harpier. They are very sophisticated, with a society that nobody who knows of them seems to understand. While they attempt to keep peace, they are very well-trained in fighting, so to provoke one is a fatal mistake. 

In the weeks as I settle in, I become increasingly aware of the groups of kids my age, who walk past and onto the beach at variable times, shouting and laughing, almost every day. Of them, I note a certain quartet that seems to come by more often than the others. "You might meet them if you went out to talk to them." My dad suggests, without looking up from the maps he's studying. We're sitting on the couch, me reading a book talking about sea monsters found in the Caribbean, Ajax laying at my feet, his tail thumping the floor whenever I occasionally reach down to pet him. "I don't KNOW anyone. And I'm NOT that much of a people person, anyway." I sigh, putting my book down. "What are you gonna do when you go to school tomorrow?" He teases me, poking my leg with a pencil. "NOT talk to people. I can exist just fine in the background." I reply, and he smiles softly. "While that AVOIDS the problem, it doesn't SOLVE it. Talking to people will be good for you. it can help you feel more at home here, and catch you up to speed on what's happened since you left. Better than I can, anyway. I don't understand your generation very well." He laughs. "Just-leave yourself open to others. That's all I wanna ask of you. Do your thing and be in your own world, that's fine, but leave room for others to come in, too." I can tell he's being sincere, so I nod. "Sure." Dad pats my knee lightly. "Anyway, you still want to watch Interstellar tonight?" I give him a look. "I don't know how you can even ask that-OF COURSE I AM!" I answer, making him chuckle. "Alright then. I'll get the water boiling." 

Don't judge me for liking Interstellar, that movie is amazing, and the music was UNREASONABLY epic. Some of the things Cooper said also made me think pretty hard, and still do, but that's a story for another time.

The next day, it's my first day of school. 

"You nervous?" Dad asks me, offering me some leftover alfredo pasta for lunch, which I gratefully accept. "What do you think?" I point out. "It'll be fine. The school here is very helpful, and the kids here are really sweet-another reason you should stay open to the opportunity to meet them." He assures me, opening the door as the bus honks outside. "Have fun." I walk out the door, which he closes behind himself so he can watch me go. As I sit down, I put in my headphones to block out the chatter around me, too loud and overstimulating for my comfort. Instantly, a song called You're Somebody Else comes on, a soothing, quiet, beautiful song that helps me stay calm as we start off down the road. 

The rest of the 40 minute ride(there's a shocking number of kids in this town) is also very boring, as is most of the day. 

At the end, I go over to a shaded, short concrete wall, and sit. The pavement is rough, but surprisingly not too cold, which I enjoy. There, I take out an old sketchbook, and start to draw. I don't know exactly what it is, but my hand seems familiar with the motions, eventually producing a boy of about 9, with short, straight hair and big eyes. He holds a sort of innocent-yet-knowing expression, as if he stumbled across a secret and wants to show you, but can hide it really well. 

He also seems vaguely familiar, I realize, as I begin to draw his body. A pencil gently pokes my book down, forcing me to pause my sketching and look up at the person. "Hi..?" I say, confused. "Hi. I uh, I saw you all alone over here, and figured I'd see if you wanted any company." The speaker is clearly of an Irish background, that much I can tell from his voice alone, but he also has pale skin and green eyes, of which are also pale, his red hair is short and fuzzy, and I note the little diamond-studded earrings in his earlobes. An odd fashion choice, my mom never really enjoyed it, but I think it suits him. My first instinct is to tell him to leave, but my dad's words come back to me, so I nod and use my pencil to bookmark the drawing. "Sure." He smiles and sits beside me. Somehow, he's still clearly taller. He seemed less so when he was standing. "You wouldn't happen to be Henrick Grace's daughter, would you?" He inquires. "Um...yes, yes I am." I offer my hand. "Bella." He takes it. "Charlie Jullens. Your dad and I are kinda friends, if I do say so myself. I don't know how he sees it, but I like to think we are." He explains. "Really?" I ask. "Yeah! A few years ago, he and your dog, Ajax, they saved my younger sister, Annie, from drowning. He was the first to arrive with her at the hospital, and according to the doctors, it's probable that his actions saved her life. We've had a good relationship since then." Charlie sighs. "He mentioned in passing that he had a daughter coming to town, would be joining school this year. I was hoping to meet you, actually." He admits. "Really?" I say, both slightly touched and wary at the same time. "Yeah, I figured you'd want a few friends while you settled in and got used to living here. Which is why..." Charlie stands, turning to face me again. "...I wondered if you'd be interested to coming down to the beach later tonight? At around 6:30?" I blink, processing this. "Not just me, though, I have some friends of my own coming at the same time, I thought we could all meet up. We're doing a sort of potluck, something we do at the start of every school year, to brighten our spirits and build morale for the year." He adds, seeming to have had the same track of thought as me. "Oh...um...sure." I decide. 

What could go wrong?

"Great! Remember, it's a potluck, so bring something for it, if you want. The water's too cold to swim at the moment, so don't worry about that." As he speaks, I catch the slight shine of braces in his mouth. He pats my shoulder, then looks at the courtyard. "Seems I'd best move on. My dad's gonna get mad if I linger much longer. See ya!"