age 12
Ochre Primary School
“Do you see her?”Harrison asks. He crashes against my side, hard enough I stumble into the tree I’d been using for cover.
Because, yes, I do see her.
When we heard the Blake family was taking on an orphan from the hibernal coven, we couldn’t believe it. Harrison was convinced Margot was lying. I didn’t doubt her at first. Her family are the nicest people I’ve ever met. Mama Blake organizes most of the school’s fundraisers. Papa Blake runs a free groundball club for families with no money. And Margot makes it her personal responsibility that everyone in our class feels included.
To me, it made sense the Blake family was helping out an orphan. I had assumed it was a baby. At the very least, a normal kid whose parents died in an accident or something.
Not…her.
Harrison crowds against me, until I’m squished between him and the tree. I have to shove him away to lean around it, to catch sight of the new girl again. She’s standing all by herself near the swing set, the hem of her dress clenched in both fists.
I’ve never seen a Dark One before. They usually aren’t integrated into society after they’re discovered. They’re usually imprisoned or killed. But they’re not usually little girls with wide, innocent eyes either.
“I asked my mama,” Harrison whispers, glancing over at me. His white-blond hair is a wild mess, as if he forgot to brush it this morning. “It’s true, Elliot. She killed her parents.”
“No way,” I say. I peer farther around the tree. The girl seems way too little to be dangerous. She’s only a year younger, but she looks so much smaller. She’s short and skinny. But she’s wearing all black, and when she rocks back on her heels, I catch a glimpse of gold bands beneath her sleeves.
“I wouldn’t lie,” he says. He turns toward me, nose scrunching. “You don’t believe me?”
“She’s just…” I trail off, unsure what I planned to say.
“She killed them both,” he says. “Only a few months old. Exploded their brains.”
“She did not.”
“She did!” Harrison punches my shoulder. “Serious, Elliot. The first family that tried adopting her brought her right back. The second, some nice old hag? She killed her too. She’s been at the orphanage foryears, and for some crazy reason, Mama Blake picked her.”
I don’t respond this time. I’m too scared my voice will break, and I don’t want him to know I’m afraid. It takes all my effort to keep my knees from shaking.
She’s killed three people? She’s younger than we are. Only eleven. Why would she…
“There’s Margot,” Harrison says.
Harrison has been dating Margot for all of two weeks, but he’s already annoyingly obsessed. He ditched me twice during lunch this week to hang out with her. Like I said though, she’s nice. Harrison could certainly pick worse company, even if I don’t know why he wants a girlfriend at all.
Seems more fun to play groundball or practice spells or do literally anything else.
Margot glides across the playground, waving ecstatically to the little girl in black. She told us her name—I’m sure of it—but I can’t remember it now. They look as polar opposite as physically possible.
Margot wears a pale yellow jumpsuit, her blonde hair twisted into matching braids. A sparkly orange bow fastens the end of each, glinting with the sun’s sharp reflection. The new girl wears baggy black clothes, and her long brown hair is loose. Unkempt. She looks…sad.
I wonder if she feels bad for killing all those people.
Slapping my shoulder for the millionth time—I’m sure I’ll have a permanent bruise, even when I’m a grown up—Harrison takes off in the girls’ direction. I follow after him. I don’t bother asking if he’d rather play with the other boys. I already know the answer.
By the time I reach them, Harrison is standing in front of Margot,like he’s her personal shield. The girl in black has stumbled several steps away, arms now hugging her middle.
“Stop, Harrison,” Margot hisses. “You’re scaring her.”
“Good,” he says. He bares his teeth at the girl, and she again stumbles back. “Don’t even think about hurting Margot, you freak.”
I suck in a breath. Harrison’s always been a little bossy, a little “aggressive”, according to Mama. But he’s never beenmean. I’ve never heard him call someone a name before.
I grab his shoulder rather than saying anything. When he looks back to me, his expression instantly shifts from one of hatred to determination.
