Dark Magic

04. Chapter Two

SOPHIA'S POV

'Treat everyone with politeness, even those who are rude to you - not because they are nice, but because you are.'

My clock read 5.30am by the time I'd sat up from bed, using a balled fist to rub at my tired eyes like a baby.
My mother had woken me briefly at 5.00am, saying that she had 'important issues to take care of at church.'
I beg to differ.
5am was around the time when everything was foggy.
You could only see about a 30 centimetre radius around your own feet, which were barely visible too.
So if there was a dead dog or something on the road, nobody would see it until sun rise - which was around 5.30-6.00am.
Claire was rustling uncomfortably in bed, tired moans leaving her mouth. I sighed. There was nothing more that I wanted then for it to be silent. If I was a complete psychopath, I'd probably smother her.
I glanced out the window, which hadn't been covered by curtains. I suppose I'd forgotten. I looked around, tucking my hair back, as my still tired eyes fell upon a faint outline of a figure. My mouth gaped.
My first instinct was to panic.
Were they dead?
I quickly pushed back the covers and ran to the door, lifting my jacket off the hanger on the back of the wooden block. I covered up my arms and pulled back the door quietly, re-adjusting the top of my sweat pants in the process.
I wore a black hoodie, over top of my red t-shirt - along with grey sweat pants that exposed a little bit of my ankles. I also wore black socks with white polka dots all over them.
I tip-toed down the hallway, feeling a slight sinister atmosphere.
I wasn't very used to such a quiet house. Claire was beyond loud, especially in the mornings.
I slid across the polished wooden floor, nearly completely losing my balance. I re-stabilised myself more than quickly, approaching the door and placing my warm palm around the cold ball of metal. I shivered at the feeling of it.
I was suddenly craving the hug of my blanket, but if this person was dead, I wouldn't be able to get comfortable until I knew for sure.
Not that I'd be relaxed seeing a non-breathing human being on my yard.
That'd be horrifying.
I pulled back the door, shivering at the sudden rush of cold that snuck through each tiny gap in the screen door. I pulled that back too.
Mornings were always cold.
No matter what season, it was freezing.
I stepped outside, double-checking that the doors were unlocked properly for me to get back inside. I folded my arms across my chest and walked across the front porch, jumping over the two steps that led to a thin pathway. It was made of concrete and curved around the side of the house, all the way to the garage and driveway.
The grass was covered in dew, I could tell by just looking at it.
I slowly stepped out, feeling the water soak into the bottom of my socks. I cringed, tip-toeing over to the body.
I didn't know if it was a boy or a girl.
I couldn't tell from so far away, but as I grew closer, the mop of black hair and boy-ish clothing came into focus.
The boy laid with his legs parted, feet turned out to the sides. His arms were lying carelessly beside him, extended. His black hair was covering half of his forehead, and he wore black skinny jeans and a grey t-shirt with a blue stain on it. His chest was slowly heaving up and down.
I released a sigh of relief, getting closer to him. As soon as I took a better look at his face, I knew exactly who he was.
Dylan O'Brien.
Of course.
He was the most popular guy in school. He was in my year. We had chemistry and history together, but we'd never spoken to one another. He was mostly known for being a 'Player' and a 'Bad boy' (whatever the hell that meant).
Whatever he was doing on my front lawn was beyond me.
His skin was pale and his lips were purple. He was practically frozen.
I rubbed my hands together, dropping beside him on my knees and pressing my now warm hands to his cheeks.
"Hey," I whispered to him, shaking him with my knee in the process.
"Wake up." A small moan came from his mouth as he began to rustle around, furrowing his brows and slowly opening his eyes. He met my face immediately, and jolted.
I tugged my hands back, resting them on my thighs and sinking my teeth into my bottom lip.
He released a little groan, looking over my body for a brief second.
"Where am I?" He murmured - voice hoarse and groggy. It was actually...really attractive. I knocked away the feeling, smiling at him.
"My front lawn...possibly freezing to death." I replied politely. He slowly sat up, pulling his legs back and resting his hands behind him to prop up his entire body.
"Right," He mumbled, looking around.
"Who are you?" He asked as he looked back at me.
"Um...Sophia-Grace." I replied, looking around, silently praying nobody saw me with him. He had a...reputation in my street.
Abbey always kept the church up with high school gossip. It was weird.
"Okay. Well, I'm-" I quickly cut him off,
"I know who you are. We have chemistry and history together. Shocker." He managed a smile, before pulling an arm back and extending it to me,
"Nice to meet you - formally, at least - Sophia-Grace." I grinned and took his hand gently, shaking it.
"Do you want to come inside, Dylan? I'll get you a blanket." I offered.
I mainly asked because I was genuinely worried for his welfare, but also because I really didn't want anybody but my siblings to see me with him.
"Um..." He trailed off, looking around.
"I'm not some...psychopath. It's okay. I'm actually pretty friendly." I replied. He half-heartedly laughed,
"I can't argue you that. You're offering to help a hung-over kid you barely even know, who could be an axe murderer himself." He met my eyes as soon as he said 'axe murderer', and I fought the temptation to tense up.
"Somehow I doubt you are. Come on." I said, getting to my feet. He got up after me, very slowly and carefully.
It didn't take very long to get him inside. We both tried to be very quiet as we crept in, letting the door gently shut behind us itself. I sat him down on the couch, lifting a blanket off of the glass coffee table, (God knows why mother bought a glass table - especially after I broke a wooden one) wrapping it around his shoulders. He smiled up at me, pulling it right over his body.
"Thank you." He mumbled, lifting a hand to push back his dark hair. I smiled, sitting down on the table in front of him.
If mother had seen me sitting on top of such an expensive piece of furniture - she'd kill me.
"Do you want a drink or something? I read that drinking water is good for hang overs. I think I read something about bananas too..." I trailed off, furrowing my brows.
"But I can get you water or tea, or coffee, or cocoa. I don't know. Name something and I'll try to find it. I can't make promises that I'll have anything specific though. We do have a lot of water though." I realised I was blabbering and quickly looked down, awkwardly laughing. He ran a tongue across his lips, smiling straight after.
"Water and coffee would be pretty sweet." He replied. I nodded and stood up, beginning to walk away quickly. Then, I stopped, swinging my arms back and pointing at him. He was already looking at me,
"Don't...move." I said drily, before smiling and continuing to walk to the kitchen.
The first thing I did was boil the jug. As soon as I pressed the button, it hit me.
Dylan O'Brien was in my house.
The most popular boy in school was at the least popular girl's house.
It wasn't like I had a crush on him - I barely knew him - but the thought did scare me. I didn't want to be weird. He could tell anything to his friends and a whole lot of unnecessary drama could start. I mean - it's high school. Anything can happen.
I pulled a glass from the overhead cupboard, filling it with water and returning to Dylan, who was sitting there, with his phone in one hand, smacking the device against the other. He looked up as soon as the floor creaked underneath me,
"Hey," He said.
"Do you have a charger? My phones dead and I need to call my mum. I'm not really down to walk home - y'know?" My mouth gaped as I handed him the water, hearing him murmur a 'thanks.'
"I don't have a phone, but I could look. And if worse comes to worse, I own a car. It's really...bad though. It's one of those 1995 cars so it's sort of run down, but it'll get you home..." I couldn't stop blubbering whenever I was near him.
I guess I was just nervous.
"Um..." He pressed his lips together, before throwing his hands up.
"Why not? If it isn't trouble, sure." I smiled and nodded, returning to the kitchen just as the jug signalled that it was ready. I prepared coffee and then returned, once again, to Dylan, handing it over and sitting beside him, leaning my back to the arm of the couch and crossing my legs.
"What time is it?" He asked as he sipped the coffee.
"Probably 5.35ish. But relax, it's Saturday. No need to get ready for school." He side-glanced me, letting out air from his nose, considering his lips were over the mug. He pulled it back,
"I don't get ready for school until like...ten minutes before it starts. And if it's Saturday, why the fuck are you up?" I sort of jolted at his strange use of the word 'fuck.' I rarely heard anybody swear.
"I'm always up early," I replied drily, playing with a strand of my hair, hoping it wasn't a complete mess. It didn't really feel like it anyway.
"I don't know why. I just am."
"I wouldn't be able to live if I kept waking up so early," He trailed off, once again, sipping the coffee.
"So, where is your mum and dad?" He suddenly asked. I looked away,
"My mother is doing some work at church and my dad is dead. So." Dylan pursed his lips, nodding.
"How'd he die?"
"Car accident," I replied, nodding and trying to sound as unemotional as I could.
"My dad's dead too. Well-I'd like to think so. He ran out on me and my mum when my little sister was born. He's sort of a dick. Better off dead, y'know?" He said. I gulped, looking down at my legs, intertwining my own fingers.
"He's like a big time stoner," He began.
"What's that?" I asked, earning a strange look from him. He smirked, lowering his arm.
"It means he does a lot of drugs. You don't get out much, do you?" I stared at him long and hard, furrowing my brows.
"What does that even mean, Dylan?" I hissed, folding my arms. He raised his own eyebrows,
"It means you probably have no idea what the hell I'm talking about most of the time. I use all of these terms and I doubt you're going to know what I mean by them. Don't even pull the whole 'try me' thing, because I know you won't know." I frowned.
"I think you're underestimating me."
"I think you're overestimating yourself. I remembered before. You're the girl in history who never speaks unless spoken to. Whenever we watched a video, you get sent out the classroom. You're a hard-on Christian. It's actually obvious. You're sixteen; you don't sleep in - you don't even own a phone. You find time to read. I mean- who in this day and age reads?" He spoke in one large breath, making me grow angrier and angrier by the second. I flared my nostrils, pulling my knees up to my chest.
"A lot of people read, Dylan. Especially those who care about their education and future career. And if you so called, 'respect,' my religion so much, why are you criticizing me? I should be criticizing you. 'Oh, look at me, I sleep with every girl who is delusional enough to do so. I'm so cool.' That's not something to be proud of, Dylan." I snapped. He grinned, looking me dead in the eye.
"You've got a mouth on ya', don't you? Not one for swearing, but sass, however. It's great," He paused, looking around.
"Coffee's good, by the way. Thanks." I rolled my eyes and stood up, walking back to the kitchen, for no reason, really.
The first thought I had was that Dylan O'Brien was a...dick.
I hated Dylan O'Brien.
I jolted as I heard Dylan's voice again - still distant - followed by a smaller, more feminine voice.
Claire.
I quickly turned around, running to the lounge, gliding across the floor.
"Claire!" I practically shouted, seeing her sitting right beside Dylan. She looked up at me and grinned,
"I like your friend, Sophia. What's his name?"