The Precarious Exploits of The Crows

Book One: The Rising

B r e . K a y l i . G a r r e t t

Justin.

"You're the only one who can make the difference. Whatever your dream is, go for it." –Magic Johnson

Just smile, they'll love you, I said to myself. It's not like it's my first day here. I'm a regular now. I'm a pro. I'm a second year. I've got this. I cracked a signature half grin, smoothed my khaki uniform, and opened the heavy oak door. A low roar of conversation met my ears and the smell of breakfast cooking met my nose. Alright Justin, confidence is the key to success. I nodded to a couple of guys I had buddied around with last year as I made my way to the line to get food.

"Toast?"

"Yes ma'am," I said, nodding. The cafeteria lady placed a piece of blackened bread on my tray. Oh how I missed cafeteria food.

"Okay, making me wear this uniform was one thing, but you can't make me take out my piercings!" a familiar voice shrieked. The cafeteria hushed, and I turned to try to see where the voice had come from. It wasn't hard to find. She was standing on a table, her black hair as spiky as ever. The red stripe in her hair was still there, as were her piercings. She had on several bracelets and necklaces over her uniform. What was she doing here? "Why are you trying to make us conform? Look at everyone here. They look like mindless drones! I don't know about the rest of you guys, but I plan on keep my individuality."

"Ms. Kingsley, please step down from the table and handle this like a civil person," someone said.

"I am being civil," she exclaimed, throwing her hands into the air. "I'm simply protesting the unfair treatment of students at this school."

"Academy, Ms. Kingsley, this is an academy. Ezard Military Academy to be more precise," the unmistakable, chilling voice of the headmaster rang. Whispers erupted, only to be silenced as the brunette woman raised her hand. A path cleared to the table where the girl I had met a few months ago was standing. The headmaster slowly made her way, her heels clicking every step.

The girl cracked a cocky grin. "Top o' the mornin' Headmaster."

"Alisandria, I've read all about you. I've already been briefed. It was either military school or JDC, wasn't it?" the headmaster said, stopping in front of the table where the girl—Alisandria—was standing. JCD… that's juvenile detention center. Why was she supposed to go to juvie? I asked myself.

The girl nodded her head. "Right you are. Lucky for you, my mother didn't think I was cut out for juvie."

"Yes, lucky me. Now if you would, please come with me to my office. We have some things which must be discussed." The headmaster promptly nodded before turning on her heels and heading back towards the door. Alisandria closed her eyes and took a deep breath before jumping down from the table and following the principal.

What the crap was she doing here?

"Come on, Justin. Move along, bro. We're hungry, too," someone mumbled. I snapped out of my thoughts and continued down the food line, not completely aware of my motions. If she—Alisandria—was here, what did that mean? It was surely a sign, to meet her again. I've got to talk to her, I decided, dropping my tray of food. I didn't even bother picking it up. I ignored the shouts from everyone as I sprinted to the door.

"Please Mrs. Harrison, I just need to speak with her for a moment," I pleaded, giving the secretary a signature grin. "Just for a moment."

"I'm sorry Justin, but you can't," the receptionist said, frowning. She lowered her glasses and motioned towards the seats lined up against the wall behind me. "Have a seat, and as soon as she's free, you can go on in."

"But I need to speak to—" I started to say, then thought better of it. I sighed and walked to one of the chairs, slowly sitting down. I looked down at my watch. Oh eight-hundred hours. I had forty-five minutes until classes started.

"Aha," someone chuckled. I raised an eyebrow and turned my head. Three chairs away from me sat a girl with strikingly red hair, her honey eyes glued to the book she held. Not her, too!

"There's no way…" I muttered, scooting across the chairs to the one next to her. Her eyes slowly rose above the pages of her book, widening.

"What are you—"

"I could ask you the same question," I mumbled, shaking my head.

"You know that the black haired girl is here—"

"Yeah. I know," I said, cutting her off. "I told you there was some higher power at work here. Fate brought us together. We can't ignore it any longer."

She closed her book and brushed a strand of hair from her face. She gave me a small smile and held out her hand for me to shake. "We haven't had a proper introduction. I'm Jetta, Jetta Flynn."

"Jetta?" I asked, frowning as I shook her hand. "That's… unusual."

"My dad was unusual," she said, nodding. "And what do I call you? I'm getting tired of saying that boy and brown headed boy in my mind."

What a weird thing to say. "I'm Justin Matthews. Pleasure." She opened her mouth to speak, but I interrupted, again. "Wait a minute… Flynn? That's your last name?"

Her eyes narrowed. "Yes?"

"I heard the headmaster got married over the summer, and her last name changed to Flynn. Is she—"

"My wonderful stepmother? Why yes, yes she is," Jetta muttered.

"I take it you don't like her much?" I asked.

"She's reason I had to go to this academy in the first place! Dad and I were planning on moving to Canada, but he met Miss Military Butt, and we moved here."

"Oh," I said flatly. Silence soon took over, and Jetta picked up her book and started reading again.

The door to the headmaster's office slowly swung open, and laughter flooded out. "Okay Mrs. Flynn, will do. It was great talking to you. Okay. Bye, bye." The black haired girl stepped out from the office, a grin on her pale face. She nodded to the receptionist, Mrs. Harrison, and strode to the door labeled Restroom. She opened the door and stole a quick glance over her shoulder. "You two better not leave until I get out of here, yeah?" Then the door closed.

I turned to face Jetta who was doing the same to me. "She didn't even look surprised to see us," I whispered.

"I think she's just good at hiding her surprise," Jetta said, closing her book a second time.

"I am very good at hiding my surprise," Alisandria said, smirking in front of us. She placed a small sandwich bag into her pocket, then crossed her arms.

"Did you take out your piercings?" I asked, looking closer at her face. Her eyebrow was ring-less, as was her lip and the one on her nose was gone, as well. The one between her lip and nose was still there, though.

"Why do you ask questions you clearly know that answers to?" she asked. "I did get to keep my Monroe, though." She pointed to the small jewel above her lip.

"Oh, I get why it was called a Monroe piercing," Jetta said. "It was named after Marilyn Monroe, right?"

"Right you are," Alisandria said. "Now come on, we've got some things to talk about." She simpered and walked out of the room.

"She's very… abrasive," Jetta muttered, following her. I sighed and followed the two.

"So this is the military school you said you went to?" Alisandria asked, opening the door and stepping out into the bright morning light.

"Yeah," I muttered, looking over my shoulder to see if anyone I knew was watching—not that I could see. "Why?"

"Take us to a quiet place. You surely know where one is, what with you being a regular here," she said, motioning for me to lead the way. I nodded. I knew the perfect place. It was a short distance from the pool and situated near the fence around the school. Woods were on the other side of— "The name's Alise, by the way. Pleased to make your acquaintance." She gave me a wink and motioned down to her hand, which was waiting to shake mine. I did. "You must be Jetta, right?" she asked the red head, who nodded, a confused look on her face. "Your step-mom told me about you." She turned back to me. "And what's your name? I never caught it."

"Uh, Justin Matthews," I said. "Now come on, let's go!" I sprinted off in the direction of the quiet place.

"Hey! Wait up! You don't have to run!" Alise yelled. I looked over my shoulder and saw the two girls following behind me at a slow jog.

"What's wrong, Kingsley? Out of shape, are we?" I taunted, slowing my pace down a bit.

"Why yes, I am. Thanks for noticing," she mumbled, rolling her eyes as she sped up to reach me. "I hate running. It's too… quick."

"I agree," Jetta muttered, tripping over a bottle cap that was lying on the ground. She flew through the air, grabbing onto Alise to try to support herself, who, in turn, started to stumble and grabbed on to me. Gravity pulled the three of us to the ground in a big heap.

"You're so clumsy," I said, struggling to untangle myself. I quickly leapt to my feet and offered a hand to the girls. Alise had already gotten to her feet. Jetta eyed my hand and scowled.

"I'm aware of that," she spat. "No need to point it out." She rose to her feet, crossing her arms.

"Uh, okay," Alise said, stepping between the two of us. "Why don't you take us to your spot now? You okay to walk, Jetta?"

"Yes, thank you. I'm fine," the red head said. She looked at me expectantly, inclining her head. "Go on."

What's with her? I mentally asked myself. I sighed and took off again, walking this time. Hopefully at a slower pace Jetta wouldn't trip. But then again, she'd probably fall over thin air.

"What did you and my step-mom talk about while you were in her office? You both went in steaming mad and came out laughing like two pals. What happened?" Jetta asked.

Alise laughed, her eyes crinkling. "It was just a little misunderstanding. I simply told her my plan, and she completely understood. She's a supporter, now."

"What plan?" I asked, turning to face the black haired girl.

She shrugged her shoulders. "Let's just say... Everywhere I go, I like to prove a point. Looks don't matter—it's what's inside that counts."

"What do you mean?"

"I look the way I do to prove to people that beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and that brilliance comes from where you least expect it," she said curtly.

"Are you saying there's brilliance in there?" I asked, playfully raising a lock of her hair up.

She glared and pulled something out of her pocket—a small, battery looking contraction that had a metallic glint to it. I reached forward to try to touch it, but she closed her fingers around it.

"What is it?" Jetta asked, gazing at Alise's closed fist. "It's putting off its own aura, like it's alive."

"Putting off its own aura… what do you mean?" Alise asked, eyeing the red head.

"Open your fist again," she said. Alise slowly unfurled her fingers, and the three of us gazed into her palm at the tiny cylinder. Around it, the air seemed to shimmer, like it was moving at a really high speed. "See? All living things have a life force, but this… this has an aura all its own."

"You can see auras?" I asked. That's not possible. Normal people can't just see auras, I added mentally.

She shrugged her shoulders like it was no big deal.

"So what is this, Alise?" Jetta asked, tentatively reaching a hand forward. Alise's eyes narrowed and she closed her fingers around the little cylinder again.

"This," she said, motioning towards her fist, "was my ticket to first place at nationals."

"Nationals?"

She nodded. "Yes, nationals." She pulled out an old leathery wallet from her back pocket and reached inside. A yellowed piece of newspaper clipping emerged from the folds; she handed it to me.

Hesitantly, I peered down at the article:

Girl Takes All at Junior National Science Convention

Alisandria Kingsley, 16, wowed the judges at the one-hundred forty-fourth annual Siemens Foundation Science Competition in Washington, D.C. on December sixth with her research of a self-sustaining battery. Kingsley constructed the contraption from nothing more than theoretical research gathered by top leading universities (Harvard and Yale, respectively), along with her own calculations.

She took first place in eight different categories, including 'Best Green Machine' and 'Most Promising Young Scientist', as well as 'Best Overall'. Her mother had this to say: "I'm so proud of Alise. Her childhood wasn't one you'd find in a fairytale. She's made the most out of what little we had. She's always been a hard worker, and is finally reaping the sweet results."

Most notable about Ms. Kingsley is her appearance, and her attitude towards such. When asked, her response: "I dress to prove a point. Who cares what you look like on the outside? I'm a freak, and I don't want to hide it! People brand you based on your appearance; I want that to change. I want to show the world that everyone deserves a chance."

Her prize winnings totaled to nearly $500,000. Her plans on the prize money?—Ivy League. "Harvard's like my drug," she says with a smirk. "But Yale's really nice, too. They're both dying to have me."

Keep Alisandria Kingsley in your sights; great things are sure to come from this young woman.

I handed back the newspaper clipping to Alise, who had a sly grin on her face. "Is that enough proof, eh?" she asked. "Or should I direct you to the documentary on the History Channel?"

"H-history Channel?" Jetta sputtered. "Seriously? They did a show all about you?"

"Not just me," she said, slipping the paper back into her wallet. "They interviewed some of the other competitors, too."

"Well that sounds like a terrible show," I muttered, low enough neither of them could hear.

"Is this the place you said we could talk?" the black haired girl asked, pointing a pale finger in front of us. My eyes rose to the small alcove of rocks situated in front of the chain link fence. The woods stretched seemingly endless behind it.

"Uh huh," I mumbled, plopping down on one of the rocks. The girls followed suit.

"First order of business," Alise began, tilting her head towards the woods. "What, in the name of all that is good and holy in the world, is that squawking?"