Manipulation High

Chapter 66: Burial

Clay POV.

This didn’t honestly look how I expected it to, the Native American burial ground. In almost every instance where I have seen one in pop culture it would be in the middle of the woods, usually on elevated grounds with a lot of rocks scattered around. There would also be a bunch of crosses around, like any other cemetery.

Okay so maybe I only knew about how they looked from movies like Pet Semetary, and other movies where they always end up being a cliche trope. However this seemed a lot different to how all of them looked in movies.

There weren’t many trees in the surrounding area so a lot of light was there, there were flowers planted around with a couple of trees inside the provided shade. There were some boxes around which Aaron called ‘Spirit houses’, with grass growing freely around the area. It was surprisingly peaceful.

The pair of history teachers began handing out food, since it was around lunch time and a lot of the other students were complaining about how hungry they were. George and I walked over to grab a sandwich each before walking over to where the rest of my… George’s friend group were.

It was honestly hard to tell if they were my friends or not. I mean Sapnap hates me, he and George told Karl some type of story about who knows what, and now the brunette hated me as much as the other two did. I don’t know about Techno and Wilbur though, they had been keeping their distance lately but that doesn’t mean anything.

I still stayed silent though. Although over the past couple of days it seems that there has been a truce between myself and George it was clear I wasn’t exactly welcome here. I wanted to take advantage of the fact that they allowed me to hang around, and not end up losing that privilege.

While they occasionally did ask me something (or Techno and Wilbur asked me something since Sapnap, and Karl pretended I wasn’t there), I’d give simple answers. It really sucked as they were talking about a lot of things I would love to have jumped in on and talked about with them but I didn’t.

Once we had finished I walked over to the entrance of the burial grounds, leaving behind the rest of the group. A couple of the other students who had already finished eating were also walking around having a look at the Spirit houses.

“Hey Clay, how are you doing?” I looked over my shoulder to see Mr Ryans walking over to me having just left a conversation with a small group of girls.
“I’m doing great, how about you?” I asked, deciding that I may as well talk with him, since I had nobody else to talk to at the moment, and he wasn’t as much of a chatter as the councillor.

“About the same. Are you enjoying the camp so far? I mean we are now halfway through the week.” The teacher reminded me, and while I was grateful this was half over I couldn’t help but wonder why teachers always ask about how we are enjoying something.

“Camp has been fine.” I simply answered, and I don’t know why but my answer caused the history teacher to chuckle lightly.
“You know, you do quite well in a lot of your classes. I was your teacher last year after all. I think that next year you can get into a good college and university for History.”

“Yeah. If I go to either, I think I could enjoy studying history.” I said to him happily. Although I had more of a plan to study coding, if anything. However I didn’t want to say anything to him, instead just taking the compliment.

“I am sad that you aren’t in my class again this year because you did so well last year, but it has been good to see you.” He didn’t say anything else as a male student with an earring in his left ear came up and started asking him questions. I decided to leave around now and heard the councillor was explaining some of the traditions of what happens to the dead.

At the moment I couldn’t be bothered listening to him and continued walking. As I walked around I tried to avoid stepping on where the bodies were buried, since, you know. I don’t want to be cursed by some demonic creature possessing the area like a wendigo.

There was a hill near the centre of the grounds which I made my way towards, deciding it might be nice to sit under the shade of a tree towering on top of it. Once I was comfortable and leaning against the rough bark of the trunk, my eyes scanned quietly over the landscape. It was nice and peaceful.

Just past the fence at the edge of the burial ground was the dirt road that the buses were parked on and past that was trees leading all the way to the horizon. A relaxed sigh left my lips as I leaned back against the trunk of the tree and looked down at what everyone was doing on the flat land.

It admittedly wasn’t the biggest hill, no more than seven or eight feet tall but it allowed me to see everyone. Taking advantage of the peacefulness I decided to pull out my pocketbook and just look over it, flick through the pages and have a look at what had been written recently. Well not recently. The last time I actually wrote in it was Saturday.

After a while of flicking through the pages, looking over what I had written in the past days, weeks, and months, I examined the covers. The leather was smooth to run my hand over, with the patterns easily visible in the sunlight. The rough texture feeling reassuringly familiar.

This thing was probably decades old but barely a spot of damage to it. No rips or tears, not even water stains, or a fleck of dirt or grit in between the pages. The book was in perfect condition. In the lower corner a golden stitch showed my grandfather's name in a neat cursive. This was my biggest reminder of him.

As I lifted my gaze I could see George at the bottom of the hill, he was wandering around with the rest of the group. Techno, Wilbur, Sapnap, and Karl were all in a conversation, however the British boy was gazing up at me cautiously. It was clear he was wondering what I was planning on doing with the book, but for now my gaze just shifted between him and the book.

Who knew if he wanted to say something or not, but he didn’t get the chance to move at all as grey clouds started drifting overhead. I heard Aaron, the two teachers, and the bus drivers beginning to call all of us back to the bus, telling us we needed to get back to camp before the rain started for the evening.

I could tell George was still watching me as I pocketed the book and stood up, allowing myself to stretch before walking in the direction my other classmates were going.
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1354 words

What do you guys think George is thinking right now after seeing Clay with the book?

Also, in 3 days time I shall be uploading the first chapter of Antiheroes. If you haven't read Heroes yet I recommend you do if you liked this story.

There are a lot of questions that need to be answered.
Will the heroes survive the bomb?
Will Sapnap and Dream find Karl and George?
Will Dream find out about George being a hero?
Is Techno alive?
How is Phil feeling about Karl and George falling in love with criminals?
Will they be able to stop Wilbur from whatever he is planning?

If you were thing of those questions and more, you will enjoy checking out the next story.
(It will most likely include a lot of angst and fluff, and smut).