Phantasia

Vincent, arms crossed, hid most of his expression behind his long fringe. He huffed and Shelley could see him rolling his eyes through the curtains of hair.

“Like I care,” he snorted, “It was a stupid idea anyway. That girl could’ve never been an idol. Should’ve guessed, it was Shelley’s idea, after all.”

Shelley looked at the red carpet to avoid his glare, her knee twitching to the point of spasm like some kind of hyperactive sewing machine. She wished Phantasia would appear and prove them all wrong, that she would return victorious from defeating Godhand, that she would put a stop to the persecution her and her mother had been forced to endure for half a decade.

But all Shelley got were the cold stares of her friends and the feeling that the gulf between them was widening even further. “She’s not even one of us any more,” she heard one of the first years say. “She was never in the scene to begin with,” said another. “Just clinging on to us ’cause she wanted to be cool,” shot a third. Shelley drew her knees up to her chest and tried her best to make it all go away. How typical that, no sooner had she made a real friend in Phantasia, than that friend abandoned her. How typical indeed.

“Yeah, that’s Shelley Edwards there,” she heard Vincent say, “Definitely something odd about her, I’d say. Saw her conspiring with that white-haired witch, you know?”

Shelley glanced up to be confronted by a wall of crimson and hidden high in its depths a cruel face scowled down at her. Every muscle in her body froze and all she wanted was to scream out, but a large hand reached around and cupped her mouth. The world faded.

***

Katrina clutched Kit to her chest, breathing in the familiar scent of the stuffed toy. Most people thought she was childish for hanging on to the plush turquoise cat, but it was times like these that she valued his company the most. The thought of Phantasia at the mercy of Bishop Wotan and his fanatical cult was nauseating.

She noticed a familiar boy in a long white coat and black scarf, standing against the wall, his arms folded and eyes looking down at the floor. Dante was lost in one of his pondering moments, contemplating something about the world around him. Having lived next door to the boy since his parents abandoned him, she was used to his every nuance.

“You thinking about Phantasia too?” she asked. His eyes flicked up for a second and he shifted his weight.

“They must’ve had some pretty strong evidence to convict her like that,” he said, his voice distant and dream-like, as it always was when he was turning theories over in his head.

Katrina scratched her temple. “Do you think she did anything bad outside school?” she asked, “Phantasia always seemed like a nice girl to me. I can’t imagine her doing anything to get herself arrested by Godhand,”

Dante chuckled to himself and watched her with a knowing smile. “Phantasia’s a bit strange. Too naïve, like she’s putting up an act. I don’t think she’s even human.”

Chapter 15
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