15.

The first bell rang out, causing the onlookers to dissipate as the teachers came to round everyone up for homeroom classes. Twila stood in the middle of the hallway, visibly shaking as Esme trotted past with Tristan, their arms locked tightly at the elbows. For whatever reason, as she passed by, Tristan mouthed to Twila that she was sorry.

Tristan immediately regretted doing so, feeling that she had already undermined Esme's plan. But, what Esme didn't know wouldn't hurt her.

When the two arrived to class, Tristan felt herself hesitate before they entered. She wondered if Hasson would fall for the charms of Esme, and in doing so if he would learn to respect Tristan again. All Tristan wanted was one chance to make it right with both Twila and Hasson.

When they entered the homeroom class, Hasson was nowhere in sight. Tristan breathed a sigh of relief for the time being, rushing to her seat before anyone else could steal it. Esme paced herself as she crossed the room, sitting in the desk next to Tristan. The two smiled at each other as the class erupted in whispers of gossip and, for the first time, Tristan and Esme heard the chorus of their names burning at the tongues of the other students.

It seemed that people were mystified as to why Esme was hanging around Tristan, especially when she had the choice of any other student in Northrop High. Tristan felt a sense of pride in knowing she had what everyone else wanted.

More importantly, there was nothing more satisfying to Tristan than seeing Hasson's face as he entered the classroom, immediately seeking her out. Instead of that typical playful look on his face, Hasson was trying his best not to look shocked as Esme leaned over to whisper something to Tristan, the two of them laughing soon after. Hasson, realizing that the girls were laughing at him, retreated to his side of the classroom, slouching as far down in his seat as possible.

Tristan felt a new sense of strength take over her, as if she could finally emotionally get through the day... and all thanks to Esme.

Reveling in her power, Tristan felt a pinch of reality as she thought through how much trouble she would get in if her dads ever found out. Would it really matter what her dads thought if Esme had her say in it? Esme clearly had more than just charms, she had a power that Tristan had barely gotten a taste of.

Mr. Smith entered the classroom, toting his same briefcase that he had for many seasons of teaching. He scanned the faces of his class, noting Esme with a particular smile only for her. It wasn't meant to be creepy by any means, but Tristan still felt uneasy about how even grown adults seemed to fawn over Esme's every move. Esme, however, didn't seem to care. Rather, she welcomed the attention. She lived for it... literally.

"Another day, another chapter consumed by you at some point between yesterdays class and today," Mr. Smith said, widening his eyes as he scanned the class. He stopped at Esme, who was beaming now. He cleared his throat. "What about you, Miss Valentree? Did you happen to do the readings?"

"And then some," Esme replied. "Actually, I would like to speak to you at some point about the accuracy of the history in this textbook you have assigned. It's rather... choosy."

Mr. Smith chuckled, as did the rest of the class. Of course Esme was a better historian than most teachers, minus the last five decades of history. Those were the years she would only be able to read about. However, prior to that she was practically a historian buff because she lived through it all. Tristan admired this for a moment as she thought it through.

"I would be honoured to chat with you," Mr. Smith said, nearly bowing before he caught himself. He tucked his shirt in properly, clearing his throat as he continued on with his lecture.

Tristan and Esme giggled at Mr. Smith, who had never been this way prior, yet now he was a bumbling fool. This was entertaining for the girls, as well as the rest of the class. The entirety of the lecture, Mr. Smith was interrupted by Esme as she corrected him. Any other time this would be annoying, but it wasn't when Esme did it. The class loved it, as did Mr. Smith. Even Hasson seemed to be enjoying himself despite his pouting. For the first time, it felt like the class was bonding over a mutual interest --- even if that interest happened to be a God.

Admiring her new found God, Tristan couldn't help feel like that for once she belonged to something much greater than she or any of the other people in that classroom were able to understand. She was part of something much larger, connected to this tiny but powerful God that sat beside her. All of this was possible through the blood bond that Tristan had unknowingly created between her and Esme.

Tristan felt lucky to be the one that Esme kept turning to whenever she was searching for approval, even if she wasn't drawing attention to Tristan and instead was soaking in her new found popularity. Tristan could live with this, she surmised. All she had to do was use Esme as a shield to protect her at all times from the bullies, and maybe this would eventually get Twila to give Tristan the opportunity to talk.

Meanwhile, Esme was just as happy to be the shield that was protecting Tristan from her peers. She liked the attention, it meant people were beginning to believe in her and to trust her again, which is the first step of her own plan. A plan that, unfortunately, Tristan was not entirely privy to.

Esme smiled at Tristan, reaching over to squeeze her knee once as if to say thank you. Tristan nodded in reciprocation. She was content to be left alone, even if it meant being the fish that clung to the underside of the shark. The shark, in this case, being Esme. Little did Tristan realize this shark was out for blood.

As the day went on and the classes carried forward, Tristan and Esme continued to be practically glued at the hip. Each class that they attended, they were happy to find that things were quickly going back to normal for Tristan. It seemed that the message was loud and clear: Twila and Hasson were not welcome to bother Tristan in her classes so long as Esme was there.

Tristan was so content in the idea that she was finally free from her bullies that she felt herself relaxing into her role as a believer of Esme. She noticed every so often that Esme was practically glowing from all the attention and belief that she was receiving. Her usual pale skin seemed to be cherry red in all the right places, glowing in a way that new mothers often do. Tristan admired this to herself throughout the day.

The last period bell rang out and sent the hallways into a cluster of bodies. Tristan and Esme made their way to the last class of the day, which just so happened to be Miss Elsberry's class. Tristan had nearly forgotten how Miss Elsberry had walked out of the class at the sight of Esme. Tristan figured it was just a one time occurrence and that Miss Elsberry would come back to the class, when in reality there was a substitute teacher already waiting at the desk to begin the lecture. It appeared that Miss Elsberry wasn't coming back any time soon.

Tristan shirked off the feeling that began to cloud around her, knowing that Miss Elsberry had left the class because of Esme and presumably because of her status as a God. Why that bothered Miss Elsberry was a mystery to Tristan.

Looking over to Esme, who was greeting other students as she walked by, Tristan couldn't help but wonder if she was as safe as she thought she was with a God by her side. How could she be so sure that she was making the right decision when the only person, or in this case God, who knew what was right was the one holding all the power? This unnerved Tristan slightly, trying to bite down the feeling that was rising up with every passing second.

The class filed in until everyone was waiting for the substitute teacher to begin. He was an older man with snow white hair, his glasses hanging from the tip of his nose as he looked over the students. Like everyone else, this man was no exception to the Esme Effect, going from a little crotchety old man to a beaming ray of sunlight in the blink of an eye when his gaze met Esme's.

"Good morning," The substitute teacher called out, smiling like he wasn't initially about to go on a mini power-trip before seeing a God in his presence. Trying his best to impress Esme, the substitute teacher put on his best act to be the wise, older gentleman that he should have been in the first place. The appearance of a God really can change a person in seconds.

"I would like to start off by introducing myself. I am Edgar Bowens, your new teacher for the rest of the semester," He announced.

The class shuffled around at the news, whispering to each other as they wondered where Miss Elsberry went and why she would walk out on only the second day of classes. There were whispers of her being sick, possibly dealing with a drug addiction. One student even claimed that he saw Miss Elsberry buying a pregnancy test at the pharmacy. Tristan assumed none of this was true, because deep down she knew exactly why Miss Elsberry wouldn't be returning to class.

"We will be changing the course slightly to adjust to my lectures, which I have been preparing since I got news of Miss Elsberry's... absence," Mr. Bowens explained.

Tristan felt her stomach turning the more she tried to push it down, even trying to blame it on something she ate at lunchtime. The more that Mr. Bowens talked on, the more she felt herself shifting around in her seat, trying to settle her nerves without any luck. Esme took notice of Tristan's sudden change in behaviours, leaning in to ask her if she was okay. Tristan nodded as the sweat bubbled on her forehead. Esme eyed Tristan suspiciously, ultimately focusing her attention back on Mr. Bowens.

Tristan, however, struggled with her insides that were twisting and turning to the point that she felt so uncomfortable as if she may burst at any moment. Whatever was going on, it was manifesting faster than Tristan was able to keep up with. She gripped the sides of her desk, trying not to show how much discomfort she was in as her insides swirled anxiously.

Just as Tristan felt the final leap of her stomach, about to explode out onto her desk, the door to the classroom swung open as if the wind had tunneled all the way down the hallway and shoved it open. Esme immediately stood up, the rest of the class seemed to brace themselves, as well. Tristan, still battling her stomach, felt it dissipate before she was able to be sick, focusing her attention now on the open door.

The breeze brushed by, but nothing came. Esme stood still, readying herself for whatever was waiting just outside the door. Something had caused her to react out of character, suddenly she was the protector that Tristan had been hoping for. This was what Tristan needed when trouble was coming her way, to have a God to protect her from the unknown.

But nothing came. It was just the wind. Esme finally sat back down in her seat, turning to Tristan to whisper something quickly.

"He's awake."

"Who is?" Tristan whispered back.

Esme pulled her bottom lip in a little as she chewed nervously on it, looking over to Mr. Bowens as he walked over to the door to close it, apologizing to the class for the interruption. Esme focused her attention back on Tristan.

"Ossieus," Esme replied, this time unable to keep her voice low.

Tristan shook her head, unsure of who that was. Esme seemed to shrink at the thought, and suddenly she no longer looked like the protector who was about to put it all on the line for Tristan. Instead, Esme was scared.

"Who is Ossieus?" Tristan asked, trying to gently shake Esme out of her trance. "Is he one of those Gods you told me about that will come after me if I break our blood bond?"

Esme stared blankly at Tristan.

"He's my brother."