MONSTERS EAT ICE CREAM

STRAWBERRY DAYDREAMS

The town of Herring was one blanketed in secrets. And on this late Friday, so did a thick mist of rain. I stood outside my house, a low whistle of wind twisting throughout the town. I pulled my phone from the pocket of my navy coat and checked the time.

8.27. He'll be here in three minutes. Never late, never early.

I tapped my glossy black boots against the puddles on the side-walk, nerves starting to get the better of me. I needed to do well today. Otherwise my mum would have my neck. Then dad. I swiped through a few boring Instagram stories, head lent against the bus-stop sign as his jeep pulled him. I curled a strand of my long, auburn hair around my finger, entertained with how it uncurled itself. 

I was probably over-dressing for a forced English Tutoring session, but even if there was barely anyone in the high school I still wanted to be the best dressed. So a hot-pink skirt of tasteful but slightly teasing length, a black blouse with a high white collar and puffy navy coat with a fur-lined hood it was. I'd had to scamper out of the house with no breakfast to get-away with this outfit.

Besides, Drake was driving me. Even if I felt conflicted about him, I still wanted him to stumble over his words in the cute way he tended to. I climbed into his jeep, tossing my pin covered backpack into the back seat. Drake Millson, one of my best friends since I was ten greeted me with his signature perfect grin. Most girls at Westmen High would call him perfect. And maybe he was.

To me at least, he was a perfect best friend. Not that it mattered, he had his pick of any of the girls at Westmen. With his platinum blonde hair slicked back, grey-silver eyes, stupid height and broad shoulders, he'd never had to worry about getting a date. Not that Drake really dated.

"Hey, short-stuff," He greeted me, patting the seat and my special blue cushion. I jumped in, quick to put my boots on the dash, my hot-pink skirt tucked between my thighs.

"Hey tall-stuff." I returned with a sharp poke to his shoulder. The Jeep peeled away from the curb, speeding off onto the rain-slick suburb roads. Herring blurred past us, a misty green and white-picket fence flickering past as I watched the rain-drops race down the cold glass.

"So, excited for another session of why you're dumb-a-thon? " I asked, snide. I felt a jab in my belly. I needed to do well today.

"Heh, not particularly. But I am curious as to why you're attending. You've never done bad enough in school to get sent to mandatory tutoring, Alice. Is there like...something up? Is like, everything good at home?" Drake asked, fingers thrumming against the well. The sound of the indicator clicked as we pulled into the intersection on the main road. A series of cafes, small, homey and filled with second hand books and my favourite ice-cream parlour littered Robinswood Street. The heart and centre of Herring.

"Um, yeah. You know things are still weird but, it's getting better you know? Like everyday it gets a little better. Like I doubt it'll ever go back to normal but, as long as things get better. But nothings up, Drake. I'm okay, just shit at essays." I replied, arms folded. I didn't look at him. I just kept staring out the window.

"I get it. Thing's are complicated. But uh, I'm here for you, Ally. I know you've got Alex and Georgia but you can always text me if you need a late-night drive." He said, his voice oddly soft. Goosebumps raced across my skin as I felt him touch my knee. His touch was light, but it told me all I needed to know. He was there for me, either way. 

"Thanks, Tall Stuff." I sighed, giving his hand a squeeze. 

_____

On our way over to Westmen, Drake had bought us two ice cream cones. Chocolate for him, and strawberry for me. The entire high school itself was empty, save for a hand full of teachers and few students attending the mandatory tutoring sessions. If I was going to stay in the top class, I needed to learn how to write some master pieces. 

The strawberry melted on my tongue, sweet, creamy and filled with chunks of real strawberry. I'd always loved strawberry ice cream. It felt like no other flavour could do it for me. Ice cream, too. It was sweet and cold, perfect and the only human food I could consume. But I walked these halls, my boots echoing on the polished timber floors like any other teenager. 

Yeah...just like any other. 

While Drake drifted off to his locker in search of a text-book, I headed for the library. 

But as I walked, it felt like the air changed. It became sweeter and smokier all at once, and my limbs stiffened as though I was underwater. And then I crashed into him. Rounding the corner at the same time, we collided, my strawberry ice-cream spilling all over my shirt, the pink treat spilling over my shirt. But it didn't matter. No. 

A man stood before me, tall and brown-haired and utterly gorgeous. His eyes, a crystal blue were wide with shock, horrified at what he'd done to my shirt. It made for an awkward moment, considering my large bust size and his look of shock. He had a blue lanyard around his neck, so he was a teacher and he wore a black sweater, a thick leather pants and boots. So, not a conventional teacher. And his hair was a light, sandy brown, parted in the middle so it framed the gentle blue of his eyes, the sharpness of his jaw layered in a rugged stubble. 

"I'm uh - I'm so, so sorry! Are you okay? I'm just, Jesus sorry -" The Strange Teacher stammered, grabbing my shoulders in his panic. Flustered, he took off his sweater and began to try and clean the ice-cream from my shirt. I made a small yelping noise as he touched one of my boobs in a poor effort to save it from the ice-cream stain, my cheeks blushing a bright pink. The realisation dawning on him of what he was doing, he threw his sweater to the ground as though it was on fire.

"I'm SO sorry, I just - I was trying to - my deepest, apologies," He said, visibly cringing. He had an accent. Curios and still blushing, I looked to his badge. Mr Baxter. Oh no. 

"Miss Leighgood!" A familiar voice belonging to an old crone cawed. 

"Mrs Brunwitz?" I groaned, pivoting to face the old hag. She was wrinkled, her beady dark eyes always narrowed into a glare. The same glare that now stared her down, tearing her apart piece by piece.

"You're skirt is far too short, Miss Leighgood. And go clean your shirt, you look like a disgraceful mess walking these halls." She snapped, wagging a clawed finger at her.

Mr Baxter stepped forward, cutting between them. I hadn't realised before just how tall he was, at least compared to me. He had a wide button up beneath his sweater, one that almost glowed in the fluroescents.

"Ah, Mrs Brunwitz. This incident is clearly my fault. I knocked into Miss Leighgood here and caused her to dirty her shirt. I'm sure she'll see to it that it'll be cleaned. Apologies for the disrruption..." He said, offering me a soft look as his way of apology as he glanced back.

Before I could speak up to say anything in my defense, a shriek sounded from down the hall.

All three of us spun around, staring down to a tall shadow slowly approaching them. It was Drake. But his eyes were black, a solid and unnerving obsidian. And a tar-like drool poured from his mouth, dripping down his chin.