4.

Tristan couldn't believe her eyes when she saw who was already sitting in her last period classroom, almost as though she had been in wait for Tristan the entire time. For a split second Tristan wondered if she had walked into the wrong classroom, but sure enough, she hadn't. There, waiting for her once again (and right beside her desk), was none other than Esme Valentree.

Was Esme purposely following Tristan to each of her classes? Tristan had no doubts now that it was more than a coincidence to see Esme in every single class. This little God had some sort of obsession with Tristan, even though Tristan had made it very clear that she wasn't interested in whatever games Esme had in mind.

Feeling her boundaries closing in around her, Tristan couldn't take it any longer. She knew that Esme wanted something from her, but what was it that she could possibly want from Tristan? Tristan wondered that especially now given that Esme was surrounded by other students, all of which seemed to be worshipping her every move. She had everything she could possibly need, and yet as soon as Esme's eyes met Tristan's, something changed. Esme wanted something from Tristan, and Tristan knew this by the way Esme seemingly hushed everyone around her in order to focus her attention solely on Tristan.

The only seat available in the classroom was right beside Esme. There was no avoiding the God if Tristan had to sit right next to her through every class. She didn't have much choice in the matter, hesitantly crossing the room to sit down next to Esme.

Before Tristan could even sit down, Esme was already turning her chair so that she was facing Tristan. With that simple movement, Tristan snapped.

"Do you have to bother me?" Tristan asked, her tone abrasive.

"I didn't think I was," Esme replied.

Tristan thought it over for a moment, concluding that Esme was crossing some sort of line that Tristan had constructed for herself. She knew that Esme wanted something from her. Upon further thought, Tristan wondered if all Esme cared about was securing more believers. That is what a God wants, after all.

As she looked around at the adoring faces that seemed to follow Esme's every move, Tristan could sense that there was a strong Esme Effect going on around her. Seeing the admiration and willingness of her peers to adhere to Esme's every whim and demand, Tristan wondered what type of God Esme might be.

Again, Tristan had done more research than her fatherly counterparts, mostly out of curiousity, so she felt she had some knowledge on the subject concerning Gods. When she was younger, she wanted to know why people believed in Gods and the safe passage of the soul from our world to the next. She had found herself in the back pages of the internet, researching whatever her curious mind could think of. Unfortunately, the answers that she sought were mixed.

As far as her research had led her to understand, Tristan discovered that there were groups of people who were under the impression that Gods were manipulating people into believing for their own selfish gain. In the forums she had passed through, she found that these same people oftentimes were tricked previously by a God. Though the reports were mostly anecdotal, Tristan felt that this was proof enough for her not to trust a God.

Esme was no exception to this rule, Tristan reminded herself. Despite Tristan having never heard of Esme Valentree personally, that didn't make her any less of a God. But what was her story? What was it that Esme wanted--especially from Tristan?

The teacher, Miss Elsberry, entered the classroom and immediately hushed everyone as she did. Tristan found herself sitting back in her chair, trying her best to avoid Esme's gaze beside her. But Tristan could feel those dark eyes piercing through the bubble she had carefully constructed to keep herself safe.

"Good-morning, everyone," Miss Elsberry announced. She placed her bag and belongings on her desk, but as she did, she paused midway. Just as everyone else had done, Miss Elsberry found her eyes gravitating over to Esme. As soon as her sights laid on Esme, Miss Elsberry's face contorted with disgust. She turned away as soon as she had realized what she had done, clasping a hand over her mouth.

The class, where it had once been filled with chatter, now came to a hush. Clearly the rest of the class had been witness to Miss Elsberry's reaction to Esme as everyone seemed to look at each other in confusion, but Tristan knew what was going on. Most of all, so did Esme.

"I'm sorry, class, I'm feeling a bit under the weather," Miss Elsberry said, her back still turned to her students. "Please excuse me."

Without any hesitation, Miss Elsberry grabbed her bag and scurried from the classroom, her hand still tightly placed over her mouth as if she might be sick at any moment.

At this point Tristan couldn't hold back the urge to look over at Esme, glaring at her as if to gesture that this was her fault. Esme picked up on Tristan's antagonizing behaviour right away, seemingly discouraged by both Tristan and Miss Elsberry.

Apparently, as it seemed from the teacher's reaction, it wasn't only Tristan who wasn't buying the Esme Effect. In fact, it was telling to Tristan that her peers were quite susceptible to being manipulated---their minds eager and their hearts ready to open up to this strange little God. Whereas people like Miss Elsberry and Tristan herself were clearly the exception.

The classroom erupted in talk and laughter again as if nothing happened, the rest of the class excited at the idea of not having to do any work. Whereas Tristan quickly got lost in her textbook to avoid the burning eyes of Esme, quietly sitting in her seat while the chatter went on around her. Neither one made a move to talk to the other, despite the tension rising up between them.

Tristan knew she had upset the God and she was feeling every minute of it in the pits of her stomach. She felt liberated from the herd despite it all, as if she were the exception to the masses. For that, Tristan felt special in her own way. She knew her dads would be proud of her if they saw how well she was holding her own against temptation.

While her classmates continued to talk while they waited for the bell to ring, Tristan paid close attention to every detail of the textbook that she was reading.

After some time, the classroom door opened and a secretary from the front office walked in. Her name was Abigail and she had worked for Northrop High for at least nine years. Tristan only knew of her because Abigail helped her a few times to fix her timetable.

Abigail walked up to the front of the class, gathering attention just by standing there. Everyone quieted as they looked her over, waiting for what she had to say. They were all hoping they could be sent home early, but that wasn't the case.

"Your teacher, Miss Elsberry, won't be returning today due to a sudden illness. I'll be watching over you until we can find a substitute for tomorrow. So, until then, I want you all to open your textbooks and read the chapters Miss Elsberry had assigned for this week," Abigail announced.

"What if we already did the readings?" A girl piped up.

"Then you can read onto the next chapter," Abigail replied, annoyed.

"What if we already read the whole thing?" A second girl piped up, trying to hide her giggles.

"Then sit quietly and wait until the bell rings," Abigail was tired of answering questions already. She sat down at the desk, opening her own book so that she could skim over it while keeping her eyes on everyone.

Tristan dove nose first into her textbook, trying her best to keep her attention on the words and not on the whispers throughout the classroom. Soon, she was lost in the pages, tuning out all the other sounds around her.

"I think we should talk," Esme whispered from the desk beside Tristan, instantly breaking Tristan's concentration.

Tristan gritted her teeth as she turned her body to face away from Esme, leaning on her palm to block Esme's view of her face. But Esme cleared her throat and the entire class quieted. This action caused Tristan to look up to see if Abigail had noticed, but she seemed even more focused on her book than before, possibly forgetting why she was even there.

Tristan, without thinking and without turning to Esme, felt the words slip from her mouth so quietly and yet powerfully.

"I don't want to believe in you."

"Then don't believe in me. Let me show you why I believe in you," Esme replied, her voice barely a whisper.

Tristan sighed. She kept her eyes forward the whole time she spoke, watching Abigail for any sign of life but she was glued to her book now. Tristan took note and focused her attention back on her own textbook. Esme turned her chair towards Tristan's, causing Tristan's eyes to drift over to her for the first time since the beginning of class.

"Don't do that," Tristan warned, keeping her voice low but firm.

Abigail finally broke her concentration, looking up to Tristan and Esme. When her eyes first landed on Tristan she was ready to scold them, but as soon as Abigail took notice of Esme her expression changed. She was just as mystified as the rest of the class seemed to be, with exception of Tristan.

"Oh. I didn't know," Abigail said monotonously, but her face was enveloped in a warm, bright smile now. "I apologize."

Esme didn't respond. She didn't even blink. Tristan, however, had seen enough. She slammed her textbook shut and raised her hand to be excused to the washroom. Abigail waved her on, to which Tristan grabbed all of her belongings without thinking twice about it. Abigail hadn't taken notice because she was suddenly fixated on Esme.

Tristan crossed the classroom and exited quickly thereafter. Except she wasn't going to the washroom. She was going home and skipping the last half of class. What more would she miss other than Esme being fawned over some more by all of her peers and teachers? It sickened her, really. She couldn't believe the transformation Northrop High had gone through in a single day, wishing the entirety of it would come to an end the moment she found her way back home and into her bed. She had convinced herself that the entire day was a bad fever dream.

Most of all, Tristan could not believe this was what her senior year of high school was turning out to be like. Not only did she have to deal with Twila and Hasson, but now this troublesome little God who seemed to sprout believers everywhere she went?

But, as Tristan rushed towards the exit of the school, she heard her name being called from behind. She hesitated for a moment, turning to see Esme walking down the hallway towards her. Tristan rolled her eyes, feeling annoyed that Esme was not taking the hint even when Tristan was being stern.

"I want nothing to do with you!" Tristan called out, turning to open the front doors of the foyer, exiting out to the mist that was hanging around in the parking lot. "I think I've been abundantly clear on that."

Esme followed behind her, leaving the school behind as she rushed up to join Tristan's side. Tristan came to a halt, looking at Esme as she reached out towards Tristan.

"I can prove to you that I mean well," Esme informed.

"How?" Tristan asked.

Esme snatched Tristan's injured hand, running her fingers over the bandage. Tristan pulled her hand away from Esme, but Esme grabbed it back and held onto it so tight that Tristan thought she might break her hand. Esme tightened her fingers around Tristan's hand, bringing it up to close her mouth around her fist, blowing her warm breath into it. Tristan felt the burn of her fresh wound, recoiling as the pain slipped up her arm momentarily.

Then, as quickly as the pain spread up Tristan's arm, it drained right back down again through her fingers and into thin air. Tristan felt no pain from the wound beneath the bandage. Esme had healed her.

Shocked, Tristan pulled away her hand in a movement so fast that even Esme was surprised. Esme's face lit up, motioning at Tristan's hand excitedly. When Tristan responded with nothing, Esme's expression changed as soon as she realized that Tristan wasn't as excited as she was.

"Why aren't you smiling?" Esme asked. She reached out for Tristan's bandaged hand, but Tristan pulled her hand away before Esme could touch her again.

The air soured between them. Tristan, still unsure of why Esme was pursuing her to such an extent, felt the pressure alleviate from the once never-ending throb beneath her bandage. Where once there was a flaming hot pain, now she felt nothing but her clammy skin beneath the bandage. She knew that Esme had healed her and yet she didn't want to acknowledge it. Because, to Tristan, acknowledging that Esme had performed a miracle on her meant that she also had to acknowledge that Esme was a real God.

"I never asked for your help," Tristan replied. She said nothing more to Esme, instead felt the pang of her own humanity as the pain freed from her palm.

Mostly, if she was being entirely honest, Tristan felt that her own ignorance wanted her to keep away from Esme. She didn't know how to behave around the God when clearly everyone else did and, for that reason, Tristan felt she didn't want to be around Esme.

Not to mention that Tristan could practically hear Julian's lecture if he ever found out that she was even near a God, let alone having one try to swindle her into believing in them. Julian would freak out and probably ground Tristan for the foreseeable future.

With this in mind, Tristan shook her head at Esme and began her descent down the front steps of the high school. She stopped herself midway as she thought about the implications of this God favouring her over the other students. She needed Esme to stay away from her.

Tristan turned around to face Esme once more. "There is nothing you need from me and there is not a thing I need from you. Why don't we just keep our distance from here on out?"

Esme stared at Tristan as though she hadn't heard her at first, finding herself nodding eventually. This was good enough for Tristan, heading down the steps towards her car. Before Tristan could take one more step away from Esme, she heard Esme say something under her breath.

If only Tristan knew to just keep walking, instead she turned around to face Esme.

"What did you just say?" Tristan chirped.

Esme stared at Tristan for a long moment before the words slipped from her mouth.

"I could kill her for you."