The Huntress Book 1 Memories Read Free Page A

is no other explanation. Somehow I almost
burst into a hysterical laughter. /"Who am I? The poverty!"/ I
could tell with hysteria.
    As usual, no one asks me why I was gone. Not
me, in any case, which I am non-existent for people who call
themselves norms. As if I would never be a human. It was as I
wasn’t one of them. And, in fact, I am not one of them. I've never
been. And also, as usual, time passes slowly. For some reason, the
new pupil seemed vaguely familiar, but I wouldn't say why. The
certain fact is that I've never seen him before in my life, but
some of him was somehow familiar.
    The sound of the bell puts an end to Grey’s
monotonous voice, the Biology teacher, and everyone else already
has collected their books and booklets, hurrying toward the dining
room, at the table. I move slowly. Out in the yard. It only mists.
No more rain with buckets. I have never entered the school
cafeteria. I didn't have any reason. I choose to leave the
impression that I go out in the yard for me to eat my lunch, a
sandwich or a fruit that never existed. My stomach is protesting
again, but it's its natural condition. I rub it a little. Usually,
this motion calms it down. The rain prevents other students to get
out. I can only say I enjoy this thing.
    “Why you're not inside with the rest of
you?”
    Before I get angry, I'm astonished. I think
this is the first time when someone talks to me at school. And I
know already who was doing such a thing. The new pupil. He's not
too clever, poor him, if he doesn't see that I'm a pariah, if he
does not see how I look.
    “Dude,” I say, “thank you for talking to me
and all this, but if you want to have in this high school any
social life, you better you back and stick with them.
    I look up at him. There wasn’t born the man
whose eyes I can’t look. It seems to me that his irises have a life
of their own, as if it would move something inside them. The eyes
of this guy are the eyes of a tiger. That’s why I got the
impression that I am in front of an animal. And now I realize
something else.
    “You are the dude from the River, eh?” I
say.
    He nods consenting.
    “I'm Dane.” he says.
    "I'm Pat.” I respond.
    Neither I, nor he, do reach out our hand.
Usually, people feel disgusted with my poor and ragged appearance.
Apart from the usual irritation, I do not feel any further
annoyance. Just because he's a newcomer doesn't mean he's different
from the others. So, I shrug with indifference.
    “So, shall I get that you’re still not
hungry?”
    He smiles slightly, but he irritates me even
worse. As if he would know how my entrails move inside my stomach.
I do not bother to answer him. I look at him with boredom, giving
him to understand that I would prefer to remain single. I don't
mean to be rude to a person who has paid any attention to me. But
neither would I hesitate to be, if he steps too much on my
nerves.
    “Well, you know what? I'm a little hungry/”
he continues as if he can’t see my attitude.
    And his eyes gleam, as a predator. If I would
not be so set against what it seems to me that there are ironies on
his part, perhaps I would retreat as in the face of danger. He
annoys me even more when I see him looking at me so... from head to
toe... like how he would evaluate me. I look back at him the same
evaluative glance. He is dressed in the most expensive clothes, and
wearing the finest shoes. Everything about him seemed to shout /”I
am rich! Filthy rich!”/ The entire hair on my body stands on its
end of anger.
    “Now look, dude, just because you’re full of
money doesn't mean that you can treat those around you as you want!
Leave me alone! Go inside, with them, where you belong! I'm not
like you, don't you see?”
    I stretch my arms so he could get a better
look at the absolute poverty in which I think.
    “I'm not like you.” I say then more
slowly.
    I turn my back at him and I break into a run.
I do not care where I'm going yet. The important thing is to get
rid of