Naomi Grim

Naomi Grim

Book One of the
Silver Scythe Chronicles

(Part 2)

Naomi Grim

Book One of the
Silver Scythe Chronicles

(Part 2)

Other books by
Tiffany Nicole Smith:

Books 1-4 of the
Fairylicious Series

The Thing About
Scorpions (Scorpions 1)

This is a work of fiction. Names,
characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author's
imagination or, if real, are used fictitiously.

Copyright © 2013 by Tiffany Nicole Smith
All rights reserved. No parts of this book may be copied or reproduced in any
matter whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief
quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. Printed in the United
States of America.

Cover Design by Damonza

Twisted Spice Publications

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Naomi Grim

Book One of the
Silver Scythe Chronicles

(Part 2)

Tiffany Nicole
Smith

Naomi Grim

Part 2

Chapters 11-21

Part Two

Kennedy High

Bram, Dorian, and I followed the herd of
students into Kennedy High’s main building. The three of us received a few
stares. New kids dressed all in black, wearing shades. Three Grims in a public
high school. We obviously stuck out.

Bram took a folded piece of paper from
the pocket of his hoodie. The paper contained Doyle's instructions of what we
were supposed to do once we arrived. "We need to go to the front office to
get our schedules."

As we entered the building, I had a
queasy feeling in my stomach. I willed my knees not to shake.

Groups of kids huddled in different
areas, carrying on conversations. Two loud girls walked behind us. "Oh my
God, when he did that, I just died," one said.

Dorian turned around. "Who? Who
just died?"

I grabbed his arm and turned him back
around. "It's just an expression."

"Oh, right."

Fluorescent lights reflected off the
gray tile. Beige walls decorated with colorful posters surrounded us. Glass
cases filled with plaques and trophies lined the school's entryway. The words
that came to mind were noisy and shiny—the hallway was too much of both those
things. The strangeness of the place made me homesick immediately.

We entered the front office. It smelled
. . . different. That was the only way to explain the odor. It just wasn't a
smell I'd encountered before. I identified the smell as coffee mixed with
something else. The three of us stood at the front counter as adults and kids
milled around the busy office.

A lady in red-rimmed glasses came over
to us. "May I help you?"

"Yes," Bram answered.
"We're the Griswalds. It's our first day." Doyle thought it would be
best if we didn't use our real last names—Grim.

"Oh, yes. First, I'm going to have
to ask that you remove your hoods and sunglasses while inside the building.
It's school policy," the woman told us. We did as she said while she went
to a computer at the end of the counter. "I'll print out your schedules
and then Morgan, our new student liaison, will show you around."

As we waited for our schedules to emerge
from the ancient-looking printer, a girl who I assumed to be Morgan arrived.
She was way too cheerful for this time of morning. She wore all pink—a pink
pleated skirt and a pink polo under a pink sweater vest. Her blond curls were
pulled into a side ponytail.

"Welcome to Kennedy High!"

We stared at her.

I think Dorian finally muttered a
thanks.

"Here we go," said the woman,
whose name we learned was Mrs. Clark. "There's also a map of the school.
Here are locks for your lockers." She handed us the locks, wrapped with a
sheet of paper. "The combinations are on the page. Just choose an empty
one and put your lock on it."

I took my lock, schedule, and map from
her. I was classified as a sophomore, which apparently meant I was in my second
year of high school. Bram was a senior and Dorian was a freshman. I had
Homeroom, Language Arts, Biology, American History, Spanish, Algebra I, and
Physical Education. I suddenly wished I had paid better attention to our
studies the past few days.

"All right, I'll show you all to
your first classes," Morgan practically yelled as she led us from the
office.

Bram folded his schedule and shoved it
into the pocket of his jeans. "You can show these two around. I'm sure I
can follow a map," he told Morgan. "I'll see you guys after school.
Good luck."

I watched him walk away, leaving us in
Morgan's clutches. Dorian and I looked at each other.

"Okay, let me see your
schedule," Morgan demanded, snatching Dorian's schedule from his hand.
"Your homeroom class is right down the hall. I'll take him, and then I'll
take you to your class."

I nodded. Morgan sounded like my mother.
As we walked Dorian to his class, my eyes scanned the hallway for Keira and
Josh. Where were they? Surely they would have to go to the office also to claim
their schedules.

Morgan pointed to the classroom as if
she was showing off a new house. "Here you are. Now meet me in front of
the staircase after your class so I can show you where to go next. Good
luck!"

"Later, Dorian," I said.

"Later," he muttered. I hated
that he looked terrified. I imagined I didn't look much better.

My classroom was upstairs. I followed
Morgan as she shared important facts about the school that I tuned out. There
was no need for me to know any of those things.

"Here we are," Morgan
announced. I got the same instructions Dorian got about meeting her in front of
the staircase after first period.

"Thanks, Morgan. I appreciate your
help," I said, trying to be as nice as I could possibly be.

She left me, and I stood in the doorway.
I remembered Doyle telling us to go up to the teacher and introduce ourselves.
I tried to recall what he'd told us to say.

A woman with short black hair in a
yellow dress sat at a desk in front of the classroom. She typed on a laptop as
students filed into the room. I looked at the silver watch Father had given me
for my birthday. Class was scheduled to begin in four minutes.

"Excuse me," a girl said from
behind me with an edge of annoyance in her voice. I was blocking the door. I
entered the classroom and stood to the side.

I took a deep breath. Mother and Father
were the only teachers I'd ever had. I didn't want to start off on the wrong
foot with my first human teacher. I walked to the desk. "Good morning, Ms
. . ." I looked at my schedule. Her name was long and impossible to
pronounce, so I stopped talking. She must have thought I was an idiot.
Great
first impression, Naomi.

She stood and smiled. "Everyone
calls me Ms. G."

"Today's my first day. My name's
Naomi Grim—Griswald."

Ms. G. offered me her hand. "It's a
pleasure to meet you, Naomi. Hold on a sec."

She went to a cabinet and pulled out a
book. "Here's your textbook, and you can have a seat in the first row,
second desk."

I took the heavy book and followed her
directions. My first class was homeroom, but it would turn into American
History. I slid down in my seat. More students entered just as the bell rang.
No one paid any attention to me, which was a good thing. I wanted to blend in.

Ms. G took attendance. She called my
name last. "Griswald?"

I said nothing. I was busy staring out
of the window. Someone in a security uniform was wrangling up stray students on
the school's front yard.

"Griswald?"

That was me. I would have to remember
that. "Oh, here." The other students had said that when their names
had been called. Now everyone stared at me. Great.

We listened to the morning announcements
over the intercom. I heard something about a bake sale and a basketball game.
After that, homeroom was over. It was time for American History. I tried to be
interested, but I wasn't. The information wasn't anything I needed to know. It
wasn't my history. Grades meant nothing to me. I spent the period staring out
of the window. It probably wasn't a good idea for me to have a window seat—I
fell into daydreams easily.

After class, I spotted Morgan standing
in front of the staircase in all her pinkness. She looked around, probably
searching for me and Dorian. I went the other way to avoid her.

 On the way to Algebra, I spotted Keira
in front of an open locker. I pushed my way through the crowd of students
toward her.

"Keira!"

She turned and smiled, relieved. We
hugged like we hadn't seen each other in years. She was dressed just like me,
all in black.

"I'm so happy to see you," I
said. "Where were you guys this morning?"

"Nay, it took both my parents and
me to pry Josh from his bedroom this morning. All of a sudden he was terrified.
He made us late."

I felt bad for Josh. I hoped he was
okay.

Keira closed her locker. "So, how
was your first class as a human teenager?"

I was about to answer, but then the bell
rang. The hallway was completely empty. "Uh, I think that means we're
late."

Keira sighed. "Great. Look there's
an empty locker there." She pointed to a locker three spaces over from
hers. I removed my lock from my backpack and claimed the locker.

Keira pulled her schedule from her
pocket. "I have Algebra next, Room 308."

I looked at my schedule. "Me
too." I grabbed her arm. At least I wouldn’t have to walk in late alone.

We found the 300 wing. Mr. Bertelli was
our Algebra teacher. The door to his classroom was locked. Keira knocked. A boy
with shaggy hair opened the door for us.

The class was silent except for Mr.
Bertelli, who was explaining something at the front of the classroom. He
stopped mid- sentence and looked at us. "Can I help you?"

"Sorry we're late," Keira
said, "but it's our first day."

Mr. Bertelli nodded. "That's quite
all right, but only because it's your first day. There are two seats in the
back."

Keira and I made our way to the back as
everyone eyed us. I felt totally self-conscious. Thankfully, our seats were
right next to each other.

Mr. Bertelli was a plump man who was
almost completely bald except for a ring of fluffy hair that surrounded his
head looking like brown cotton candy. He was saying something about variables
and exponents and then he stopped. "I think this would be a great place
for our new students to introduce themselves."

Again, all eyes were on us. What was he
talking about? Ms. G hadn't made me do anything.

"Why don't you go first? Please
stand," Mr. Bertelli said, pointing at me.

I looked at Keira. She gave me a small
smile as I stood. "My name is Naomi Griswald." I remembered that
time. I didn't know what else to say. "Can I sit down now?"

"Where are you from?" Mr.
Bertelli asked.

"Nowhere."

Some kids snickered.

Mr. Bertelli frowned. "So you're a
comedian?"

Keira cleared her throat. I looked at
her, and she shook her head.

"Oh, I mean Sacramento,
California." That's what we were supposed to say when we were asked that
question. What was I thinking?

"What brings you to Kennedy
High?" Mr. Bertelli asked.

"My father's job got
transferred." I was happy I didn't blurt out, "Some of you are going
to die, and I'm here to collect your lifestones. Nice to meet you."

Finally, he let me sit and asked Keira
to stand. She gave her introduction flawlessly. Her name was Keira Griffin and
she was from Seattle. We received stares for a long time after that. I hoped it
was just because we were new and not because we looked like we didn't belong.

The bell rang, and we gathered our
things for our next classes, which we didn't have together. I stood and slung
my backpack on my shoulders. I heard Keira gasp.

"What?" I asked, concerned.

She nodded toward the door. "Look
at that girl."

I looked in that direction and spotted
the girl she was talking about. She wore a red dress and black heels. Aside
from that, she was surrounded by a faint yellow light. That glow meant only one
thing—the girl was one of the Fated, doomed to die. It wouldn't be long now.