Chapter 3- Hera

"'Roses are red because they are bleeding. Violets are blue and while sad, it is true. If you are reading this, I have probably had a long day… and it has not ended yet. Thread with utmost caution.' You set up an IG account and put that on your bio?"

I raise my head from my salad to see Astrid Norwood settling on the seat across from me. It is four short hours later. I am at school, in the cafeteria where garbled voices break out around me like a confused choir. The ebony-haired, Oriental masterpiece that doubles as my best friend looks displeased as she waves her phone in my face.

But I don't see the problem she seems to be hinting at. "You don't like it?"

"I'm not sure," she says mock-thoughtfully. "Between broadcasting to the world that you're a shameless literature geek and coming off as an antisocial weirdo, it's kinda hard to choose which one people are going to be drawn to more."

My lips curve in a small grin at her obvious frustration. "It is not a personal account by any means." She knows I won't be caught dead looking for friends on the internet. I don't even trust people in real life. "The senior editor at Novadale's Saturday Gazette thinks as part of their plan to digitize the dusty place, it is a good idea for me to establish an official business presence there, with a username based on the pseudonym I write with for the newspaper. In her words, it will help to 'foster interactive two-way communication, share updates and build a strong fanbase for the crime column you handle.'"

Nothing really happens in a dreary place like this, so I hardly ever get new material for each weekly edition, but writing for the Gazette helps to fill up the long, tedious hours after school as well as brings me in close proximity with information that continues to aid in investigating my parents' disappearance because with my Intern Reporter ID, I can ask the police questions they won't ordinarily give answers to if I were just a random teenager. Two months since I dropped my first story, Astrid has been very helpful along the way, even though the sight of blood still makes her nauseous. It is a good thing then, that while criminal activities here are few and far between, homicide cases do not happen at all.

"I definitely thought your joining social media was very suspicious," Astrid says now, shaking her head as she drops her phone and decides which item on her tray will go first.

"It is the only kind of horror I do not entertain. My only consolation is that no one knows I write for the Gazette. The pen name I use can't be guessed by anyone who does not already know it."

"Perfect for you then. You like to be invisible."

"Anonymous. It is different."

"Nerd."

I grin and she rolls her eyes and grabs her burger. As she prepares to sink her teeth inside, Blaze Humphrey swings by, a wide grin on his face.

"Hello, Ladies."

"Look who's finally come to see us." Astrid puts her food down and turns to face him. "If it isn't Daddy Long Legs."

Yes, like the insect. My best friend is a guiltless savage. She knows that Blaze does not like her calling him by that- same with his last name- but she does it anyway.

And right now, her words have the desired effect. He blows out an aggravated sigh but there is no hiding the small, knowing smile on his face- the prelude to the sting. "Says the five-foot-three leprechaun."

I nearly spit into my salad.

Astrid looks impressed. "Your cousins in New Jersey teach you how to take an insult over the long holidays?"

"They are the absolute worst."

"I can see that." She bites into her burger. "It's a shame they didn't show you how to ask a girl out. You're going to die a monk."

Blaze blows out another long-suffering sigh as he meets my gaze, hoping for a defense, but I don't dare come to his rescue. I am not about to share in his suffering.

"Don't look at her." Astrid zeroes in on him. "Hera will get laid this year. You? Maybe when you're thirty."

"And who is going to be laying Hera?" Blaze asks.

Interesting question.

But Astrid just shrugs as she gives him a look. "Why? Do you want to?"

Blaze blinks and I let out a deep exhale. While I didn't think things could get worse, I suppose anything is, in fact, possible… especially with this duo. Astrid, for one, is an unrepentant menace.

Blaze's gaze drifts to me again and I swallow slightly. But before he can say anything- probably denounce me so publicly- I drop my fork and turn to Astrid. "Please. You know I won't want to put anyone through that."

She obviously finds this funny. "Hera, you're a hottie. Stop selling yourself short. Do you have any idea the pile of guys waiting to ask you out if only you looked a little closer and gave them some attention? Go out there and get laid, you nerd."

"Maybe I will." I most probably won't.

"Good." She turns to Blaze. "Humphrey on the other hand isn't kissing a woman until he's thirty-two," she says devilishly. "Not except he wants to twist his neck having to reach her. He's going to stick with hugs for now… the ones that go around his thighs. Apparently, he's too good for us normal women with average heights, who incidentally account for up to ninety-five percent of the female population. So his chances are extremely slim."

I double over laughing.

Blaze, on the other hand, looks mildly harassed. "This is why I don't like to have lunch with you," he says grumpily as he fingers his sandwich but does not take a bite. "It's not my fault you have to get on your tippy-toes to reach your kitchen sink. I don't know why I have to suffer if you're mad at Nature. You always channel your frustrations with her on me."

I choke on a gasp, abandoning my vegetables for a moment as I watch Astrid stare at him like she is wondering where he got the nerve to strike such a low blow. "I'm sure when we first met, the agreement was to deal with your enemies so that I had the exclusive right to torment you," she answers. "Spoiler: I haven't even started yet, and while you're doing good, this is one of the easy levels."

Blaze has an amusing sense of resignation in his gaze. "Frankly, I still don't know how we became friends."

But I do. As for him, he came with her like some buy-one-get-one-free package. I don't know exactly when he started to come around, play golf with us, or join us for soaks in the pool when it gets hot in the afternoons, but soon, I fell into the routine of seeing him often around her, and us. So far, he has been wonderful- extra nice to me, even- though I have no idea when we became friends.

Not Astrid. I remember every single detail of the first time I saw her like it is permanently sewn into my memories.

I had been by the bleachers one cold Tuesday morning, searching for my cat when she had walked by, hands in her leather pants' pockets, rows of beads over the light, chiffon scarf around her neck, wedge ankle boots pounding softly on the grass.

"Rich girl problems?"

I had paused mid-search, but it was beyond the words themselves. What had me surprised was the fact that she had said them. And to someone all the other students were morbidly afraid of, no less. Me. The- then- sixteen-year-old living all by herself in a presumably haunted mansion, unbothered. It would give anyone the chills… just like it did my schoolmates, many of whom began to think I was possessed. I never corrected them. There was no need to.

"What makes you think I am one?" I had asked, turning to Astrid, curious about her easy, decadent style, and yes, her audacity.

She had rolled her eyes in response, much like she usually does these days. "Please. Wearing corporate clothes to school definitely speaks of residue boarding school blues, like you miss posh prep school already."

Hmm.

"And?"

"You live on the hill, in North Manor." She hadn't said this like she resented me for it. Rather, like one stating a simple fact. I liked her at once, because while a lot of people hated my guts just because I came from money, she didn't.

"Are you a stalker?"

"If I admit it, will you file a complaint and get your lawyer parents to roast me in court?"

I had grinned like a kid high on sugar. "You definitely are a stalker."

"And you're so going to be late for class if you don't get going," she had replied, a meaningful look at the school building. "I guess I'll see you in detention then. Mine won't be undeserved though. I wore leather on purpose."