Graverobber (BoyxBoy)

Chapter One-Goodbye Agony

I could leave. Right now. I tighten my grip on my bag filled with essentials—clothes, food, money, and a sleeping bag. My parents are asleep, and I've already planned out how to get out through my bedroom window. I have the rope at ready, more than long enough for two floors. This is my chance. But of course, I'm a coward as always. My bag drops to the floor and tears drop from my eyes. It's not just the thought that I could get caught. Or the thought that I'm too privileged to throw away a life everyone considers luxurious. But deep in my chest, I know—I could never live with myself if I left my gang out here on their own. If I let them suffer. I look in the mirror, the darkness barely reflecting my face. How can a hero wear a mask every day yet smile under it?
Why can't I smile under it? Caiden always told me we were the heroes. Protecting the families of purest blood, making our fortune. I don't remember when exactly I stopped believing that. Even though the town treats us like heroes, I still feel like the villain.
I tap the screen of my Apple Watch and glance at the time. It's almost morning already.
I need to sleep but I don't want to. I catch a glimpse of my eyes-my bare eyes with no charcoal ringing them. This charcoal is my mask.
This whole damn town doesn't know what I do with this mask on, let alone with with it off.
I don't know what I do with this mask off.
I dip my finger in the charcoal and smudge it back around my eyes.
I have school tomorrow.
I climb in bed. I have to keep appearances up.
But I don't know how much longer I can keep it up.

"You really should've slept, dumbass." Zaina says and I poke even more holes into my pasta. My chef's cooking is amazing but it tastes like dirt to me.
"Your face tastes like dirt to me." Ali mutters wryly and I realize I must have said it out loud.
I shove my untouched lunch back into my lunchbag and push it aside to the several empty tables surrounding us. No one dares sit with the Grave-Defenders anyway. Especially us Resurrection Grave-Defenders. The charcoal around our eyes gives us all away, and makes us look like 12 year old emos, but it's better than what the other Grave-Defenders wear. I raise my eyes towards the four other Grave-Defender groups, each given a wide berth by the rest of the school population. The Sharps wear silver scarves, Scarlets dye their hair bright red, those wackos of Ludicrous wear pink velvet cat ears, and Holy Sepulchre, I scoff, wear purple trench coats, those fucking show offs.
Zaina caught my glance. "You gonna be able to make it tonight Dreue? Those Holy Sepulchre bitches have been worse than usual," She lowered her voice, "And I know what day it is—"
"Shut the hell up Zaina," I snap. I look away from her. I know that was harsh, but I don't regret it. Zaina could take it, and much more.

Zaina had repeatedly been voted the 'Toughest guy' in their middle school yearbook, never mind the fact that she didn't identify as guy, the title seemed to fit her.
Everyone knew how rough her childhood had been and both respected and feared her for it. There's still something haunting her that made her wary, even if she no longer punched anyone who tried to talk to her, she still expected the worse from life.

Ever since last year, so did I.

The rest of Resurrection was watching the two of us with baited breath. Zaina and I have always been considered the leaders of Resurrection, even though the actual head is Darby.
Speaking of which, "Where's Darby?" 

They all give me looks that scream "You just noticed" but none of them would dare say that to my face.
Ali whispers "She's in the bathroom—you know..."
"Right." I didn't like that particular habit of Darby's but we all have our ways of coping I guess.
"But really Dreue you don't have to come—it's that day again—"
"I fucking know what day it is okay-" I clench my fists. The bell rings and I'm glad for an excuse to leave.
Today is Halloween. In Everstole, Halloween means much more than trick or treating. It's the one day of the year when families are allowed to go into the graveyard they are aligned with and see the graves of their loved ones. All five graveyards are defended by teenagers. We Ressurection Grave-defenders defend the Resurrection Graveyard. The Scarlet Grave-defenders defend Scarlet Graveyard and so on. We make sure no one steals the graves...or at least that's what everyone thinks we do. Halloween is nothing more than an act. It's a lie. The defenders stay at their graveyard as nothing more than a symbol of protection. It's fucking stupid but it's a tradition that precedes us for centuries. That's why I have to go. I can't let them think I'm weak. I can't let them know I'm still affected by last year.

I run my fingers through my bangs and force myself to walk faster. My next class is Honors English-the worst class ever. Instead of preparing us for the statewide exam like she's supposed to, Ms. Jejune is determined to teach us how to write a comic book.
I scowl as I pull out my homework on the psychology of a hero versus a villain.
I lean back in my chair at the back of the class.
My assigned seat is actually supposed to be somewhere in the front but she can't do anything about me sitting back here. She knows who I am. There aren't any other Resurrection Grave-defenders in this class, but there are a couple of Scarlets and Ludicrous. They sit in their assigned seats. They don't have as strong a reputation as Resurrection does to pull off anything else. Sometimes I wonder if it's even worth it. All the perks of being a Grave-defender are outweighed by the ghastly consequences. And Everstole is the only town in the whole world to still defend graves the way we do.
I'm pulled out of my musings by Ms. Jejune's cocky voice.
"Nikki, what do you think is the biggest difference between Villains and Heroes-and no. Good and evil is not an answer." The class laughed.
I bit my tongue hard, watching Nikki—a Scarlet Grave-defender. She had been reading when Ms. Jejune questioned her.
"Well, Villains and Heroes both wear masks." She hesitates, "The difference is that Villains wear their masks to hide their weaknesses while Heroes wear masks to hide their innocence."
She mulled the words over, "Interesting interpretation. And what about you Nikki? Why do you choose to wear a mask?"
The class goes tense. I can't believe she asked that. None of the teachers dare question our tradition. No one.

Except for Ms. Jejune.

Nikki's face goes blank and she turns her eyes back to her book. Ms. Jejune sighs but isn't done yet, her eyes search for another Grave-defender.

Not me oh god not me—-

"Dreue? What do you think? Why do you wear a mask?"

My eyes flash. It's not a fucking choice bitch. It's called Nepotism. I force a smile.

"What mask, Ms. Jejune?" I ask, my voice light. She stares into my charcoal ringed eyes for a heartbeat longer before letting it go and  turning back to the class. To my relief, she leaves me alone for the rest of the hour.

"Alright class! No homework today. It's Halloween-" I tense, preparing myself for the warnings that were to come. The "stay safe" and "don't pick fights"while casting nervous glances in my direction. But they didn't come. 

"You're dismissed."

I head for the door, but find myself blocked. My eyes widen. No one ever blocks me. I look up to see two pairs of the velvet cat ears of Ludicrous Grave-Defenders. I know the two of them, we went to the same middle school. Cara and Clay King. Siblings. The thought makes my chest tighten. The two of them gesture for me to step out in the hall. I close my eyes. This is gonna be a long day. I follow them.
"Hi Bittencourt," they both chime. I ignore their extremely odd habits of addressing me by my last name.

"Cara. Clay," I incline my head at them. 

"Are you really gonna go tonight? You don't have to—"

I throw my hands up. Why. Even Ludicrous Defenders are worrying over me. How bad do I even look?

"Bittencourt!" Their voices are desperate. 

"Look I don't know what you're on but I don't have time for this. Have a good day," I stalk away, past the grey lockers and the off-white walls plastered with wilting posters. Barely two years at Everstole high and I already want to leave. I shudder. It wasn't always this way. Back when Caiden was still alive...my throat tightens. It's been a year, Dreue Bittencourt. A whole fucking year. Get over yourself. Maybe I shouldn't go. Maybe everyone's right. It's too soon.

"You think you're so high and mighty but you're really a weak little bastard aren't you," His voice tears into my head and I feel my nails poke the skin of my palms. My thoughts spiral. Caiden's murder makes me think of him, his probing fingers intruding me, tearing my confidence to shreds—I lean against a locker, suddenly dizzy. My heart is racing. I can't let anyone see me like this. I try to control my breathing. Yes, it's been a whole year. Even the mere memory turns me into this pathetic mess. I can't let anyone think I'm weak, it's not just my reputation that'll be ruined. It's that of my entire gang. We've worked so hard to earn this respect. I won't ruin it for them. I take a deep breath. Resurrection needs me, even if I'm not their leader. 

I don't care what day it is. What happened last year won't happen again. I won't let it. 

Let everyone be worried about me. Let them tell me not to go. I won't listen. I've already made up my mind. As much as I don't want to do this, I have to.

 I'm going.