The Mark of the Cursed Luna

Amelia's POV It was my third day in school and I didn't think it could get any worse. The other two days? Well, let's just leave them where they are. Forgotten and buried, cause that's how I felt everyday I walked through these doors. I tugged at the collar of my sweater for what felt like the 10th time since I got to the steps. It hasn't been all that bad here at Ridgewood University, at least the place wasn't. I was already starting to feel like maybe it wasn't as scary as I'd built it up in my head before coming here. Back home with Uncle Ben and Aunt Clara, everything was so predictable. Be up by 6, breakfast at seven, self-defense drills in the backyard on weekends, and endless reminders to stay alert." Here, though, it was all new faces, new routines, and that weird freedom that made my heart jump. I adjusted my backpack as it was heavy with my terribly large bio textbooks, I mean who writes those books anyway. I tried to focus on finding the lecture hall for my intro class, but that's when the stupid scar on my neck flared up. It burned like I had hit it or someone had pressed a hot iron to it. I winced, rubbing at it through the fabric. It wasn't the first time it'd acted up, but usually, it was just a dull itch or light sting. But today's own was sharper, like it was strangely warning me of something. “Not now," I muttered under my breath, glancing around to see if anyone noticed. I was already called “the weirdo” in some corners, this wouldn't help one bit. Good thing the campus was buzzing with students rushing to classes, laughing about whatever drama went down at last night's party. It's always about a party, I thought and rolled my eyes. No one noticed, as usual. Good. I took a deep breath and kept walking, telling myself it was probably just the chill air or stress. Yeah, that had to be it, the new school nerves hadn't died off yet. The burn didn't give up though. If anything, it got worse as I neared the main path leading to the science building. I stopped for a second, pretending to check my phone, but really just trying to shake it off. “Come on, Amelia, get it together,” I muttered under my breath. “You're not some fragile kid anymore.” Uncle Ben would tell me to tough it out, and Aunt Clara would hug me and say it's all in my head. But it wasn't, it never was. The scar had been there as long as I could remember, this weird halfmoon shape at the base of my neck. They called it a souvenir from whatever "hiking accident" took my parents when I was just a kid. I'd asked for more about it a million times growing up, but they always brushed it off. I shoved my phone back in my pocket and looked up, ready to keep moving. That's when I saw him. He leaned against a tree near the edge of the quad, scrolling through his phone like the world didn't exist around him. He was freakishly tall and had that kind of effortless muscle that came from actually doing stuff, not just gym selfies, like those dudes. His dark hair was messy, falling over his forehead in a way that gave him this nonchalant look, his eyes, piercing blue, unmistakable even from this distance. My scar throbbed again, and for a split second, I swear it felt like he triggered it, like it was pushing me to him. I shook my head. That was ridiculous. Why would some random guy make my old scar act up? But as ridiculous as it sounded, I couldn't stop staring. There was something about him, this pull that made my heart skip a beat. I pretended not to be staring as I passed, but people around him were reacting too. A group of guys from what looked like the track team walked by, giving him nods and fist bumps. "Dude, you killed it at practice yesterday," one said, loud enough for me to hear. "That speed was insane, wonder how you do it,” another exclaimed excitedly. But he just grunted in response, didn't even bother looking up. And the crazy part? They laughed, like it was the coolest thing in the world. Then a couple of girls slowed down as they passed not too far from me. They whispered and giggled among themselves as one flipped her hair, glancing back at him with a lingering smile. "Blaze is so hot, but he's such a jerk," she said to her friend and chuckled. “Heard he hooked up with Chloe last week then ghosted her,” the other girl replied and rolled her eyes, but still smiling. "Totally worth it, though. Those eyes? And the way he moves..." I heard them continue as they trailed off, and I felt my cheeks heat up. Blaze. So that's his name, it already sounded like trouble. The burn eased a bit as I forced myself to walk away, but my mind wasn't over him just yet. I hurried into the building, slipping into the back row of the lecture hall just as the professor started droning on about cell structures. I tried to focus, jotting notes in my book, but my thoughts kept drifting back to those blue eyes, and the way everyone swarmed around him. It was stupid, I wasn't here for guys. I was here to study, to figure out my life, to stop feeling like the odd one out. But that pull, it nagged at me through the whole class. After the lecture, I headed back to my dorm, dodging puddles from last night's rain. The building was one of those old brick ones with creaky stairs and posters for campus events plastered everywhere. I was fumbling with my key when a girl with curly red hair and a backpack covered in band stickers came stomping up the hall. "Hey! You're in 204, right? I saw your stuff when I moved in yesterday, I'm Sophie, your roommate!" She said all in one breath and grinned widely afterwards. I matched her smile but pulled back from all the energy and freckles she was pushing it. It was like we'd been friends forever. "Oh, hi! Yeah, I'm Amelia,” I replied with a smile as I was a bit relieved. I'd been worried about the roommate situation with all the horror stories from high school friends about weirdos or partiers. But Sophie seemed normal, fun if I may add. We pushed into the room, and she flopped onto her bed, kicking off her sneakers dramatically. "So, third day, huh? How's it going? Classes suck yet?" She asked warmly. I laughed, setting my bag down. "Not too bad. Bio's intense, but I like it. You?" I returned. "Psych major, people-watching is my jam,” she replied, then sat up way to o fast with her eyes lighting up immediately. I shrieked at the sight. Her next words could swing everything.