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jeonstellate · 5 days ago

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the ghost of legacy

a legacy joins the paddock for the season — and oscar is the only one not keen on befriending her.

๑彡 oscar piastri x fem!räikkönen!reader

๑彡 brief mentions of weight, sainz-leclerc divorce, & wound; depictions of insecurity, grid chaos, & confusion/denial

๑彡 paragraph format — 4.1K words

masterlist

[pic’s full credit belongs solely to its owner]

๑彡 direct sequel to the ghost of monza!

๑彡 all italian & spanish words in this are from google! yn is kimi räikkönen’s daughter, but there are no physical descriptions mentioned.

๑彡 remember how i mentioned that tgom might be my first & only f1 fic? well . . . i’ve been persuaded otherwise :D i have some regrets about this, so i’d appreciate it a lot if y’all can share some feedback <3

The dawn of a season carries fresh, untainted hope. It brings a clean slate in most things — and in everything that matters. It resets the clock back at zero, and draws a mint coat for the starting line. It opens a new book with blank pages, awaiting fresh ink to flow and fill it with something worth remembering.

As poetic as those sound, Oscar can’t care any less. A new season’s a new season, meaning — for the most part — another chance at winning either championships.

For the remaining part? It means coming back to Monza, A-K-A where he met [first name] for three years in a row.

The Italian Grand Prix is still a lifetime away, but there are already moments where he finds himself wondering if she’ll still drop by and ask about Fernando’s whereabouts this season as well. With three consecutive years under their belts, it kind of feels like a tradition by this point. It’ll be too much of a shame if they break it so close to the fifth anniversary.

Honestly, he’s a little tempted to ask the older driver about his niece, but he’s also a little scared of what the other might do if he shows interest. Fernando looks like he’ll slash his tires as a form of intimidation. He doesn’t seem to be above purposely making contact during a race to prove a point, either.

It’s not like he can cut the middle man altogether. He only got her first name. There are a lot of [first name]s in existence. An Instagram search won’t cut it, especially if her profile picture isn’t of herself. A browser search will be just as impossible, if not even more so.

Oscar lets out a sigh without realizing. Is it better, after all, to let the universe decide if they should continue their little tradition?

"It’s not that bad," he hears Lando say next to him. They’re currently in the general hospitality, with a tray of free food they were promised for attending the pre-season ‘grid bonding’ and meetings. As the hospitality doesn’t open until the season officially starts, it’s just everyone in the paddock — the drivers and the crews — occupying the floors.

He looks at his teammate for that, silently hoping he’ll get a clue on what he’s talking about, because he has absolutely no idea what conversation topic they’re currently on. He didn’t mean to zone out but, alas, it’s just so easy to.

He decides to take a shot in the dark, after a moment of not perceiving any clues. He assumes — based on nothing — that he’s talking about the food. "The presentation might be intentionally deceiving."

Lando isn’t impressed. "You just need to gaslight yourself and think it’s good, if that’s really the case."

"No need! It’s actually good!" Pierre interrupts from one of the full six-seater tables. "Try the soup!"

Oscar isn’t really sure if he trusts Pierre’s tastebuds but he thanks him, anyway.

He guides Lando to sit at the eight-seater table next to Pierre’s group, albeit intentionally at the further side so he doesn’t feel pressured to socialize in the beginning of his lunch. He sits on the second seat from the edge, diagonally from the laptop he’s assuming someone forgot to take with them. Lando sits directly across him.

They eat in silence. Normally, one of them initiates a conversation over food. Today, though, Oscar lets his teammate clear his tray without a word. The other had — wisely and questionably — foregone eating breakfast to make the promised buffet worth his while.

He munches on his lunch thoughtfully, uninterested in taking advantage of the free buffet to the fullest. He — as the rest of the grid — has to watch his weight this close to the first race of the season, anyway, to avoid the risk of jeopardizing the car’s speed. He’s not really a fan of intensifying his gym workouts to burn extra calories if he eats way past his normal fill, either.

He zones out while looking directly at the stickers on the laptop cover. He’s not completely foreign to such practice, since his own sisters have decorated their personal laptops with a collection of stickers. As such, he knows how the stickers and their placements essentially show a portion of the laptop owner’s personality and interests.

Deciphering the laptop owner’s interests proves to be a good ‘during lunch’ activity. It doesn’t require a lot of thinking since most of them are pretty straightforward. Some are definitely out of context. The rest are completely obscure to him, which he doesn’t think too deeply about.

Then there’s a selected few that Oscar feels he should know, like the W resembling a fire and the RKN, but is currently blanking on.

The third general hospitality floor, by some coincidence or another, houses all drivers — reserved or otherwise — for lunch. They aren’t the only people on it, as there as also crew members scattered around, but it’s a bit impressive that the entire grid chose to settle on the same floor. Perhaps it’s an (un)intentional consequence of the grid bonding they’re forced to participate in.

Oscar gains more tablemates halfway through his first plate when Ollie and Kimi sit on the edge closest to Pierre’s group. He gains a seatmate when Alex sits next to him and George appears next to Lando.

There’s some sort of harmony in the chaos of overlapping conversations. Even more so when the tables talk to each other without bothering to get up.

Oscar thinks the chaos already peaked when the British and French drivers started defending their respective cuisines from the other’s attacks. Unfortunately, he’s eventually proven wrong when someone makes a deal out of someone else’s entrance to the floor.

"—laptop on a table," he hears a voice say. He can’t see whoever it is, though, since they’re blocked from his view by another.

"Go grab it first then I’ll introduce you to our drivers." The person blocking his view — someone from Williams, judging from the team uniform — moves slightly, allowing him to finally catch a glimpse of the other.

He sees the same Williams polo shirt first. Then— the matrix must’ve glitched.

He doesn’t remember blinking nor zoning out, but the next second he comprehends has [first name] diagonal from him across the table.

It feels wrong — and he isn’t quite sure what ‘it’ is. It is the fact that they’re currently worlds away from Monza? Or the fact that she’s wearing nothing that can get her mistaken as a tifoso?

[First name] gives him a wordless nod of recognition before excusing herself to the rest of the table, her laptop tucked between her arm and side.

"Osc, do you know her?" Someone in front whispers to him. He can’t be bothered to identify which gridmate, though, much less give them a reply. After all, his attention has stuck to [first name] like a moth to a flame.

Oscar has no shame about blatantly listening in on a conversation he obviously isn’t a part of.

"Alex, Carlos, this is our engineering intern for this year," the Williams crew member introduces the three. "She’ll be shadowing your race engineers alternatively."

"I’m Alex Albon, car twenty-three." He watches Alex as the latter holds a hand out for a handshake. "Welcome to team Williams."

[First name] takes his hand, "A pleasure."

Carlos reacts late, so it’s almost as if he’s hesitant to introduce himself. "Carlos Sainz, car fifty-five." Unlike his teammate, he doesn’t offer his hand for a shake. He just nods his head once — which she then returns with the same energy. "I see I got custody of you in the divorce."

[First name] lets out a laugh that doesn’t even reach Oscar’s ears. "[First name] Räikkönen — a child of the Sainz-Leclerc divorce, apparently."

Räikkönen?

Kimi Räikkönen?

Oscar must admit, despite understanding that her father is a former Formula One driver since last year, this revelation is still surprising. It isn’t unexpected, as Kimi Räikkönen was one of his top suspects then, but shock is definitely still there.

Probably because he now has an irrefutable evidence that the ghost of Monza is actually an F1 champion’s daughter.

And because there’s also a small part of him that feels embarrassed for not realizing right away. After all, [first name] wears her father’s number proudly — and her favored RKN logo is close enough to his RKKNN. Quite literally, the answer has been right in front of him this entire time.

"Räikkönen? Like Kimi Räikkönen?" Alex echoes his thoughts unknowingly. "That’s so cool."

"Exactly like Kimi Räikkönen," she replies good naturally. "He’s the one who passed it onto me."

The younger Williams driver is handling the revelation better than he is, as far as he can tell. But maybe that’s because Alex didn’t spend a good year thinking she’s a ghost. "No way."

"Yeah, [first name]," Charles pipes up from his seat at Pierre’s table. "No way you broke the Ferrari alliance!"

[First name] looks over to the side to meet Charles’ eyes. "There is no such thing."

"There is so!"

She doesn’t give the Monégasque the satisfaction of responding. Instead, she just returns her attention to the Williams drivers. "I look forward to working with you, Mr. Albon, Carlos."

She gives them a smile so genuine, the media would’ve scrambled to capture it — partly in disbelief that a Räikkönen could smile like so.

And, for a brief moment, Oscar could’ve sworn [first name]’s smile widens a little when their eyes meet.

(Un)fortunately, she’s gone before he can think too much about it.

The paddock stayed the same with [first name] Räikkönen around, more or less. ‘More’ because the fight for the title is still as cutthroat as the last with new rivalries, without necessarily interfering with the civility between them drivers. ‘Less’ because her presence has caused some drivers to gravitate towards her — unintentionally orbiting her every chance they get.

Fernando is a given. As are Charles and Carlos, based on their already-founded closeness in the hospitality. Alex follows soon after. Then Max.

That’s not an exhaustive list. If it had been, most of the grid would’ve been name-dropped, for sure. Maybe even have all— except one. Oscar.

Oscar doesn’t feel deserving of being [first name]’s friend, for a reason he can’t really put into words. [First name] is . . . [first name]. And he’s . . . just Oscar.

He doesn’t ignore her, of course, nor does he pretend she isn’t there when they cross paths. He just doesn’t go out of his way to be closer than acquaintances and gain her favor. He exchanges brief ‘hello’s with her whenever they meet going opposite ways. He returns her nods and waves of acknowledgment from across rooms, and has initiated them on occasion whenever he spots her first.

He doesn’t take detours to drop her off to her destination. He doesn’t sit with her whenever she’s alone, either. Because then, it’ll be a quiet kind of friendship — and he can’t be her friend.

He’s just her acquaintance, at best, and he’s content with that.

After all, [first name] has more than enough new friends. She doesn’t need him — his friendship, that is.

For her part, she seems to respect the invisible line he has drawn between them. Almost as if she can see it as well as he does.

But, perhaps, it isn’t actually as defined for her. For she has no qualms about crashing his pity party on a sidewalk.

"Are you lactose intolerant?" [First name] appears in front of him seemingly out of nowhere.

Oscar takes a second to process what just happened. Even then, he’s still not sure if he’s understanding correctly. ". . . No?"

She nods, almost approvingly, before handing him a paper bag. "Here."

"What’s—" He starts before she can commence her regular habit of disappearing.

[First name], who is already steps away from him, turns back to face him once more. "My dad says it makes everything feel better."

He lets her go after that, albeit her response just made him even more confused.

When he finally opens the paper bag, Oscar finds a spoon, a bottle of water, and a sealed half-pint of gelato in his favorite flavor.

Something in his chest stirs.

The general hospitality is set to house the entirety of the grid drivers for the nth time this season. Another drivers’ meeting is scheduled to start in thirty minutes, and — in true fashion — less than half have made their way up to the room.

By the time Oscar shows up with a pack of others he met on the way, majority of the rookies are already there. Punctuality has obviously not been drained — or, at the very least, influenced — out of their systems.

"George!" Kimi calls for his teammate’s attention as soon as he spots him amongst the crowd that’s barely entering. "Can we adopt [first name]?"

George’s confusion is evident in his stance. Behind him, Oscar needs to stifle an amused laugh. "What?"

"She sang the Italian national anthem for me!" In all honesty, he isn’t following the Italian rookie’s logic. Thankfully, he isn’t the one who needs to respond. "She can also speak Italian!"

He enjoys the view of the older Mercedes driver buffering for an answer from the seat he secured next to Carlos. Even more so when the younger one of the duo pulls out a pleading look with his "please."

He doesn’t know how he found the strength to, but George eventually replies with a non-answer. "You should probably ask Toto about that, Kimi."

"No! [First name]’s ours!" Alex disproves, protectively. "Get your own [first name]!"

"She was ours first!" Charles joins in. The Monégasque likes reminding people she’s a tifoso first, before anything else, during moments like these. He hasn’t quite moved on from the fact that she chose to intern at Williams rather than Ferrari. "Why do you think she knows the Italian national anthem by heart!"

Lewis lets him do all the talking, as Carlos does with Alex. Both seem to have — wisely — figured out [first name] will put a stop to it soon enough, with or without their varied inputs.

And, sure enough indeed, a high pitched sound comes from the speakers built around the room — which instinctively makes everyone cover their ears.

"Princesa!" Oscar can somewhat hear Fernando scold somewhere behind him. "Stop—"

Thankfully, the sound stops within three seconds — and before they actually have to plead for their hearing.

Ever the nonchalant, [first name] merely scans the crowd of betrayed and confused looks before nodding to herself, "Good." It is then that he realizes she used the feedback to silence the room, with the least energy wasted possible.

He knows there’s a chance that might’ve just sent the room into more chaos. After all, they might all be grown up, but they can also a bunch of children sometimes. It was a fair gamble and yet, somehow, she looks like she was completely certain.

He salutes her for that; for having confidence and conviction on par with that of a Formula One driver.

"You’re our race engineer intern, no?" Carlos inquires before expressing his thanks for the printed meeting agenda she handed him and Alex. "Why are you the one doing all of this?"

She shrugs, "Still an intern."

"Do we get one, too?" Esteban asks for the majority somewhere to his left. It’s a fair question, drivers’ meetings don’t usually have the agenda printed out. It’s usually kept hidden from them, to avoid getting them antsy or, worse, letting them organize their protests.

[First name] points to the Williams logo on her uniform. "I’m only required to make Carlos’ and Alex’s lives a little easier."

They find a stack of meeting agenda copies by the front of the room a minute after she disappears. A sticky note on top reads, don’t pass out if they start fighting.

(She becomes their instant favorite to set up meeting rooms. Unfortunately, the FIA has forbidden Williams to let her facilitate their next turn for the same reason.)

The drivers’ rooms are the most private areas in the paddock. It’s where drivers leave their belongings while they’re out and about. It’s where their visitors usually stay to keep out of the crew’s way until the race. It’s where they sneak in a snooze when they don’t get enough sleep from the night before.

However, despite that, the drivers’ rooms can’t be locked from the outside. The McLaren ones, at least, for the time being while their PIN code lock is being updated.

No one knows about the update except for him and Lando, but he still made sure to stash his belongings inside the lockers instead of leaving them lying around just in case. He has faith and trust in the crew, of course, as he has worked with the majority of them for years, but the garage is also an open space. Someone with malicious intent can easily slip in, unnoticed.

In hindsight, it makes the most sense for someone to slip in when either he or Lando wins a race since the garage will be mostly empty then. Thus, a small part of him isn’t surprised to discover that his driver’s room isn’t exactly the way he left it before leaving for the race he ultimately won.

Nothing is taken, thankfully, and the only thing out of place is the sealed half-pint of gelato on the table — which has a spoon tied on it by a familiar handcrafted OP81 bracelet.

[First name]’s.

There’s no meaning behind her very apparent attachment to it. At least, not in a way that is connected to him personally. For all he knows, she only refuses to stop wearing the bracelet — even at the behest of drivers close to her — because of the young fan that handed it to her.

"You don’t have to keep wearing it."

"I want to."

However, nevertheless, seeing the bracelet with his initials and number around her wrist always spark the same unvoiced feeling in his stomach — the one that grew from what stirred in his chest then.

And, somehow, knowing that she intentionally left her prized OP81 fan-made merch behind almost feels like a concession. Like she’s leaving him behind.

That’s an irrational jump in reasoning. After all, they’re not even friends. He knows that — but, apparently, the rest of his body doesn’t. He can easily blame his heightened emotions and illogicality on the adrenaline that hasn’t completely left his body, but that doesn’t make it any less real.

For a reason he is yet to understand, he’s wholeheartedly convinced [first name] isn’t just letting the bracelet go. She’s letting him go, too. And that thought, however illogically sound, doesn’t sit well in his stomach.

He can’t accept the bracelet with the plausible implication it carries. He can’t accept her concession. He doesn’t want to— He doesn’t want her to give up on him.

(He understands nothing. They’re not even friends.)

Thus, like a man with no time to lose and everything in line, Oscar takes off running before he can even comprehend where his feet are taking him.

"[First name]," he calls in relief when he sees her exit the Williams motorhome the same moment he arrives. His voice comes out a little breathless, a little winded from the impromptu run he did around the paddock post-race. He doesn’t care.

"Oscar," she turns with his name on her lips. Her shock is only evident in her eyes. "What are you doing here?"

"To return your bracelet," he admits, "and to thank you for the congratulatory gift."

She makes a sound of acknowledgement as the shock filters out of her eyes. "You’re welcome. You can keep the bracelet."

Her words sting, like alcohol is poured over an open wound.

(Ridiculous. They’re not even friends.)

"I don’t want it." He says abruptly, instantly regretting the words the moment they’re out of his mouth. "I mean— the bracelet looks better on you."

"I don’t really like orange."

Oscar swallows down the instinct to correct. Protecting the McLaren papaya pride is the least of his worries at the moment. "It goes well with Williams blue—" there’s a hint of desperation in his voice now. He finds it difficult to swallow— "and Ferrari red."

[First name]’s silence stretches. He begins to wonder if she’s back into being a mere hallucination; if he didn’t actually catch her on time and she’s bound to disappear in front of him any second.

He unconsciously holds his breath, anticipatory and unblinking. Praying, almost.

(They’re not friends.)

Then, finally, the silence breaks with her laugh sounding like scoff. She walks towards him with amusement dancing almost unnoticeably in her features. "Okay."

Oscar exhales in relief. He slots the bracelet back around her wrist with a silent promise even he is yet know.

(They’re not friends.)

The season calendar ultimately reaches the Italian Grand Prix, as it does every year.

Oscar, for someone who had been looking forward to it before the new season even started, has forgotten about it as soon as the new season actually began. In his defense, his plate filled at an alarming rate, especially with McLaren’s steel determination to become this year’s World Constructors’ Champion as well. It doesn’t help that he’s already seeing his only reason every weekend, either.

Well, ‘only reason’ might be a little too vague. [First name] is certainly part of that reason, but a big part of it is the tradition they unknowingly made. At least, that’s what he’d like to think, anyway.

Even if it no longer rings true, especially since . . . then.

They’re much closer since, having erased the invisible line between acquaintanceship and friendship. They still do everything they used to do, but now they aren’t limited to just those. They occasionally take detours now. And sit together, when they happen to take a break at the same hour. They hide together, too, when they crave the quietness of being away from everyone else.

Yet, despite the undeniable spike in their time spent together, their tradition at Monza has never been brought up. Not even in reminiscence.

As such, any thoughts about their tradition only lied dormant until the day of. More specifically, when Oscar finally finds himself sitting idle in the McLaren motorhome with a view identical to where he had seen her appear for the last two years.

It’s a bit too late to phone her to drop by just for the unspoken tradition’s sake. So, alas, all he can do now is will the universe to bring her to the McLaren motorhome for any reason it can think of.

Oscar lets himself wallow. He figures it’s better for him to do it now, since his brain refuses to let him think of anything else. He can’t risk jeopardizing his team like that, in case his compartmentalizing ability decides to fail him later.

"What are you doing?" A familiar voice pulls him back to reality. He focuses back to comprehend [first name] standing just outside of his personal bubble, clad in her Räikkönen tifoso gear. He almost forgot how she looks in them, having gotten used to seeing her in Williams colors for the past several months.

He spots the OP81 bracelet resting on her wrist. Its black and papaya theme compliments her red and white tifoso outfit.

A small smile forms at the corners of his mouth. "Waiting for you."

She tilts her head slightly in confusion, but doesn’t question him. "Sure."

He decides not to alleviate her confusion. He just starts walking towards the door, completely trusting she’ll follow him out. He gestures for her to exit first. "Fernando should be in the Aston Martin garage at this hour."

She obliges. "I know." Unlike the previous year where she actively fought to not walk next to him, she doesn’t even bat an eye when he claims one of her sides as they make their way to the Aston Martin area. "I’ve always known after our first meeting, actually."

Oscar can’t quite believe his ears. "Seriously?" [First name] affirms. He suddenly begins to question their exchanges during his first two years in McLaren, skimming through vague memories for clues. "Then why—"

"I needed an excuse," she shrugs nonchalantly. Acting as if she isn’t singlehandedly rewriting the way he views their little tradition. "I had quite the crush on you."

At the bluntness worthy of a Räikkönen, Oscar stops working altogether.

๑彡 it’s a little awkward to have an note at the end bc of my tumblr formatting, but it’s important to me that you guys know that yn definitely got banned on purpose. it’s meant to loosely parallel kimi in that grill the grid ep where he lost on purpose so he could leave, heh.

๑彡 also! 5/6th way to finishing this, i realized this prolly would’ve been better if i showed yn’s pov— but that was a lil too late, so osc’s pov had to do. yn’s pov would’ve had more angst in it, too, && idk if y’all dig that. lol. in all seriousness, i hope y’all enjoyed somehow <3

#oscar piastri x reader #op81 x reader #f1 x reader #oscar piastri fanfic #op81 fanfic #f1 fanfic #oscar piastri imagine #op81 imagine #f1 imagine #oscar piastri fic #op81 fic #f1 fic #oscar piastri #op81 #mclaren formula 1 #mclaren formula one #f1 #formula 1 #formula one

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multimagical · 5 months ago

Text

The Ghost of Melbrew

Book 1 of 12 in the Multimagical series by Lillian R.S.

Masterlist

Chapter 5 - "A Strange Book"

Word Count: 3,800

Wattpad / Main: @lillianrs

Friendly criticism welcome

Continue reading below the cut and enjoy! <3

●●●

The next day, It was Wednesday, and I woke up to my alarm blaring at 5am as I went through my usual morning routine. Cameron and Dominik had given me their phone numbers the night before. That morning, I awoke with a text from Cameron.

He texted me at like, two in the morning, to tell me to bring the book they gave me to school that day, and to be careful with it... Well, his exact text was:

"Yo dude u need 2 bring the book tmrw I wanna read that shit w my eyes at lunch n kai ll be back cuz he told me n he never read the whole thin he has his own vers but that aint important rn yea thx m8 b careful bc if u ruin that bk kim ll be mad bc she ws the 1 who had the guts 2 steal it in the 1st place ok ye that it thx"

...I really hope Dominik is the one who types out those reports they were talking about.

I placed the book safely into my backpack, said goodbye to my parents, and headed down the road to school. The morning announcements were as follows:

"Good morning Melbrew students. Today is Wednesday, September 28th, 2016. For lunch today, the cafeteria will be serving hamburgers, tomorrow will be pizza. The breakfast for tomorrow will be French toasts sticks. If you are going on Ms. Hogg's field trip this spring, your permission slips are due before Christmas break. Sign ups for the book and history clubs will be tomorrow, and they will be meeting every other week. Have a good day, Melbrew."

I went about my mundane day, and then lunch time finally came. I hadn't gotten a chance to talk to anyone yet, as the classes were busy, and the teachers were talkative. I was eager to start up a conversation.

"Wassup my dudes!" Cameron said as a greeting as he practically threw his tray on the table, making a loud sound. He slammed it down, causing some of his food to fly off the tray, making a few people to look towards us due to the sound.

"Jesus, dude. I thought you said the school's food was poisonous or something?" I said, Gesturing at his tray of lunch food.

"I like to live life on the edge, gambling with death is my favorite hobby! And if I do get sick I can sue them. They actually stopped giving out broccoli because all of it always had mold on it. It was like that for a few months until the kids decided to start speaking up about it and became persistent. They literally did not care, like it wasn’t a big deal."

"God, that's gross. They really didn't care?" I questioned.

"Nope. Don't get it, never will. Blows my fucking mind, dude." He said, and changed the subject, "Did you bring the book like I asked you to?"

"Yes, but you should be thankful. Trying to decode that message after just waking up gave me a headache!" I said, and pulled the book out of my bag. Dominik took it out of the case he gave me and flipped it open.

"So, what did you think?" He asked.

"It's pretty crazy, but definitely interesting. It feels like I'm in a mystery novel, but maybe that's just because I fantasize about it, like, all the time."

"Well, you're definitely in the right town for a mystery!" Cameron said, "This book is full of all sorts of things. A lot of it is anonymous re-writes of people's experience while being on the property, or in the graveyard right next to it. It's like you're reading some kinda ghost documentary, but it takes place where you live. It’s fucking cool, dude."

There was the gentle sound of a tray hitting the table right next to me, the complete opposite of Cameron.

“Is that the book?" Kai asked, monotone as always.

"Yes! It's here in all its glory!" Cameron said, and slid it over to him.

Kai flipped through the pages, a blank expression on his face. "I've never read this properly. You said it's pretty much a collection of stories, right? The ones that we have, but with a professional analysis?" His voice still monotone, not even changing pitch when he asks a question.

"Yup." Cameron said, "What about you? You bring yours?"

He said nothing, and pulled a book out of his own bag, the same one that he was reading in the library on Monday, on my first day. He placed the book on the table, "Kimi took this from the library a while ago. I only found out about it recently because she didn't want me to know."

The book looked incredibly old. Its grey, hardback cover was peeling back, and I could tell that it was a faded black, worn away over the years. Its thick pages were ripped, brown, stained, and wrinkled. It had scratches, and burn marks, and what even looked like blood stains. The previously golden accents of metal were now dull and bronzed. In the center of the book was the faded lettering of "Lord Lutho" both engraved and written over in black ink.

We opened the book, and were greeted with an unfamiliar language. And when I say unfamiliar, I mean I've never seen it before in my life. It was in some kind of language we couldn't even try to read, it looked like the same alphabet we use, but not exactly, it was slightly different. It almost looked as if the person writing just took a keyboard and just began spam typing nonsense, but with a pen and their hand... while also not knowing what exactly letters look like.

As we flipped through the old dirty pages, there were black ink drawings of different kinds of creatures, and what I assume to be a description of the magic they have, but we couldn't read it. There were pages on what I’d assume to be multiple mythical creatures, different kinds of aliens, different sections of angels and demons, it was weird. There was one page in specific that caught our attention, though. There was a drawing of two conjoined twins, holding a conjoined cat. The title read:

Sah Heirfix Gdrmhz: Prinsezzhz Noctis a Umbra Papilio. Lu sah mrtsg, drgs hszwvhz lu gris, za shadow dzh xzhg, a gsviv dvi gdrmhz.

"The something something, princesses Noctis and Umbra Papilio? Is that what it says?" Cameron asked.

"That's a good guess," Dominik said, "the only word I can make out in the second sentence is Shadow... isn't Noctis, Umbra, and Papilio Latin for Night, Shadow, and Butterfly?"

"Bro who do you think I am, someone who speaks Latin?" Cameron said, "You're lucky I speak English!"

"Are you sure this is real?" I questioned, skeptically.

"Mayhaps." Cameron said. "Don't you believe these creatures can exist? Because if you don't, you're gonna have a hard time here, mate."

"Who wrote this?" Dominik asked Kai.

"Someone named Lord Lutho, I don't know. That's the only name on the book. Just the words Lord Lutho." Kai went and looked the name up on his phone, but strangely nothing came up.

We didn't give the book much attention, it didn't seem real. Something like a fantasy book written to seem real for fun visuals. Couldn't quite figure out why it wasn't written in English though. Or any other known language for that matter. Or why there wasn't some actual name on it somewhere. Guess it was just for visual aesthetics, like an art book or something.

The rest of the day went on, and the dreaded biology class came about. Veronica was very vocal about how much she didn't want to work with me, and how gross and disgusting these projects were. She said she would pay me to do the whole thing for her, by myself, which actually sounded like a good idea to me.

This girl was a bitch, and an even bigger bitch to work with. She offered me 500 whole dollars right then and there if I would agree! You're telling me I don't have to work with her, and also get 500 bucks? Sign me the hell up! I took the deal. I decided to do the plant project, where I have to collect 15 different plants. That seemed like the easiest to me.

Once that God awful class period finally ended, I went and exited through the back doors as I do. Cameron and Dominik met me, but today Kai was with them as well.

"Hi, Emmy." Dominik said, exiting with Cameron and Kai.

"Kai's comin' wit’ us today," Cameron said, "he just told us he's got some good ass story from when he and Kimi were gone from school yesterday. Ya wanna come with? We're going to the apartments again."

"Pfft, you kidding? There's no way I'm NOT coming!"

"Great!" Cameron said, "The more people in on this shit the better! Kimi doesn't seem to agree, though."

"We ditched school and found something," Kai said, "we have to get Kimi now."

He, Dominik, and Cameron began to walk down the street to the middle school, and Cameron gestured for me to follow them. I quickly finished up with texting me mom. I told her I would be going to the apartments again, and then quickly ran to catch up with them.

"So what do you mean you found something?" I asked Kai when I reached them.

He shrugged, "We looked around the woods and found something."

"Okay but WHAT did you find?" Cameron asked, barely able to wait, voice laced with impatient, annoyed excitement.

"We will tell you when we get there."

We walked to the middle school, where Kimi was waiting. She immediately punched Cameron in the arm, gave me a dirty look, and went off down the wooded road leading to the apartments.

I stood confused for a moment, "...Why did she do that?" I asked.

"She fucking hates me, dude!" Cameron said, then laughed. We continued on and I followed the group down the streets, all the way to the apartments.

"Hey Mrs. Johnson." Kai greeted Cameron's mother as we entered their apartment room.

"Hello Kai! Hello Kimi!" She said, "And hello to you too, Emmy!"

"Hello!" I said back, and followed the group into Cameron's bedroom, shutting the door behind me.

"Gimme that juicy ass scoop, it should be illegal to make me wait this long!" Cameron said, crashing down on a blue bean bag chair, "Yo, Dom, pass me the cheese-its! Imma needa snack for this one."

Dominik rolled his eyes a bit, but grabbed the box off a shelf and tossed it to him.

Kai sat at his desk, while Kimi sat on top of it. Dominik took a seat on his bed, and I did, too.

"Well," Dominik said, gesturing to the room, "go on, tell us!"

"Kai and I were out skipping school at the baseball field yesterday. We were taking turns at hits until I got bored of it. We decided to go out and look in the woods around the place, but then we found something weird."

Kai pulled out his cracked old phone, "I took some photos, but the quality isn't very good." He said as he flipped his phone to us. Through the cracks and bad quality, some sort of strange hole could be seen. "We got stuck in the rain so we couldn't stay very long."

"Yo, dude, that looks like a portal to Hell or some shit." Cameron said, taking the phone from him. “Oh my God, I hope it’s a portal to Hell, that would be so fucking sick!”

"I threw a stick down it. It's really deep." Kimi said.

"That's not the only thing that's-" Cameron started, but Dominik threw a pillow at his face before he could finish.

"What do you think it is?" I asked.

"We have no idea." Kimi said, "We wanna go down and check it out this weekend if anyone wants to come with us."

"Aw hell naw." Dominik said.

"AW HELL YEAH!" Cameron yelled.

I scoffed, "Oh, absolutely!"

"Anyone except for you." She said.

"Nope. She's comin' whether you like it or not." Cameron said.

"Can confirm. I'm coming, no exceptions!" I said. "I've wanted this for ages."

"I don't like her." She said, blatantly.

"Well news flash, kid, you're not the person who gets to decide who's a part of this group or not." Cameron said.

"I volunteer to not go in place of Emmy." Dominik said.

"How about after school on Friday?" Kai suggested, changing the conversation.

"Yeah, that should be good." I said.

"I'm down to fuck with death any day!" Cameron said, punching his palm with his fist.

"No." Dominik said. "I'm actually very busy on Friday, how about we change it to uhhh, to..."

"Okay then, so Friday?" Kai asked for confirmation.

"Yup." Cameron and I said.

"I- no! I did not consent to this." Dominik said.

"Friday!" Cameron and I cheered, while Dominik looked defeated. We continued to chant, "Fri-day! Fri-day! Fri-day!"

We all went on to relax a bit. I properly introduced myself to Kimi and Kai, and we got to know each other a little bit better. Neither of them were really big talkers, so it was mostly me, but Kai was much more friendly than Kimi, even though Kimi was much more talkative than Kai.

We all officially decided to come back to the apartments on Friday, after doing a bit of convincing with Dominik. We were going to take the nature trail that's down on that same road and follow it.

Kimi and Kai said that they remembered where it was located, and that it shouldn't be a problem to stray from the path a bit to find it. That way it'd be harder to get lost. At five o'clock we all went home. The next day was Thursday, the day for the club sign-ups.

The speaker beeped, followed by the typical static, "Good morning Melbrew students. Today is Thursday, September 29th, 2016. For lunch today, the cafeteria will be serving pizza, tomorrow will be ham sandwiches. The breakfast for tomorrow will be waffles. If you are going on Ms. Hogg's field trip in the spring, your permission slips are due before Christmas break. Sign ups for the book club, and History club, will be today in the cafeteria, and they will be meeting every other week. Have a good day, Melbrew."

It had brushed over my head for the past few days, but I noticed it now. What was Ms. Hogg's field trip? She hadn't mentioned it at all during class, not even once.

The day was average. I went and asked Dominik, Cameron, and Kai about the field trip, but they said they didn't know what it was for, either. Kai and I both had her as our biology teacher, but he said he didn't care enough to pay attention.

I wanted to ask her myself, but approaching that teacher felt like it was a death sentence. Unfortunately, I didn't have any other ways of finding out. I was curious about it, and if I wanted to know, I would just have to find the guts to do it and ask her directly... oh boy, time to mentally prepare myself, I suppose.

At lunch us four signed up for the history club, and a few other kids did, too. Kai snuck angry glances at them. Because of the presence of other kids, we'd have to hide the true nature of the club from them with a fake meeting. Once ninth period came to be, I took a few deep breaths as I walked down that silent, eerie hallway, thinking about what I was gonna say when I had to face that unsettling teacher.

"Um, excuse me, Ms. Hogg?" I asked, walking into her classroom, then over to her desk. I felt so nervous, which rarely happens to me... yet it's happened constantly since moving here, and it's not even been a week yet!

"What?" She said, voice lightly coated in annoyance, not looking up from whatever she was writing.

"I noticed on the announcements this morning that you are going to be having a field trip this spring, may I ask what it's about?"

She grumbled and mumbled a little bit before speaking, "I'm gonna be taking' everyone down to the ocean by the Pacific to look at all the different critters, but yins gotta pay for it. Ain't taking no one fo' free."

"Oh, how much is the price?"

She mumbled something under her breath, and went to dig through her desk before shoving a paper in front of me, "jus' take this and go sit down."

"Oh, uh, okay, thank you!" I said, and took the paper to my desk. Veronica came in soon after and scoffed at my paper, disgusted.

"Are you really thinking about going on that gross field trip?"

"Huh. It's almost like someone is paying me 500 dollars to do the project." I said, "I think it would be a wise investment to get all the help I can with it." She rolled her eyes at me, the bell rang, and Ms. Hogg got on with her class.

I thought a field trip to the ocean would be pretty cool! It also said the pay fee was only $20! I tucked the paper away into my bookbag, and walked home once the school day had ended. Completely opposite to Tuesday's pouring rain, it was a sunny sky with warm air and cool winds.

"Wow, look hun! She's home today!" My mom said when I came inside.

"Holy cow! Does she actually like us?" My dad said from the kitchen, preparing dinner.

"Of course I like you."

"Really?" My mom said, surprised, "You like us better than those boys?" She winked.

I internally cringed and laughed awkwardly, "Yeah, okay. Is it okay if I hangout again tomorrow, though? We all have plans. Cameron, Dominik, Kai, Kimi, and I."

"Of course you can, sweetie!" Mom said. "As long as you don't talk about murders or ghosts."

"Okay thank you," I said, and ran up the stairs to my room. I rolled my eyes when I was out of sight. Oh, the cringe. I was ready to hit my head off the wall for three consecutive hours now.

I changed into pajamas because I didn't have any other plans that evening. I decided to turn on the little television in my room and see what was on. All of my social media timelines were dry and I didn't feel like reading at the moment. I didn't have the mental capacity to actually do anything… maybe I should've went and hit my head off the wall for three consecutive hours?

I began flipping through the channels, watching for a few seconds to decide if I wanted to stay, but nothing was really catching my eye. That is until I got to the local news station. How strange that the news is the only interesting thing on TV.

I've watched the local station before, but usually it's nothing good. Just a dry old story of, "Wow, look at this beaver dam in the river!" Or, "This squirrel forgets how to climb! #funny" and small town stuff like that.

This news story, however, was very different from the usual local reports. It was about this woman whose house was allegedly being haunted, according to her at least. I flipped to the channel when they were inside the house talking about the supposed spirit. She said that that she'll wake up and find the magnets on her fridge in different orders, or will hear strange bumps in the night. She said everyone in her family denied getting up and doing it.

I wondered who she was, exactly. Her name was Laura Nova. I noticed that she lived in a house down at the base of the hill, by the library and mansion. The same side of town I was on. One of her daughters then came on screen, her name was Ava Nova.

I knew that she was ten years old, and I think that was the age of a fourth grader. She showed the camera her scars on her neck, saying that she'll wake up with them randomly. They were in the shapes of scratches, but they didn't break the skin. Just red marks that seemed to stay. They then brought in a priest and were blessing the house and all that stuff.

They went on to talk about how they found a mysterious little key that they hadn't seen before. Well, actually, it was anything but little, it was two feet long! Ava found it in the basement while she and her older sister, Nora, were cleaning up. It was old, gold, and didn't go with any lock in the house, obviously. They said it was weird but they weren't sure of what else it could be, that thing was huge! Because of that, I assumed it was just a decoration.

Once that story was over, I got out my phone and went to text the chat I was added in. I didn't notice until now, but Cameron had named it, Stupid Name for a Group chat. I rolled my eyes and opened the empty chat.

You: hey first text

You: anyways

You: do you guys know Ava or Nora Nova?

Cameron: yuh ik nora y

You: Ava, Nora, and their mom were just on the local news station. Ava has scars all over her. They think they're haunted

Cameron: YO DUDE DAY SICK

Cameron: DAT

Dominik: I was watching that, I'm casual friends with Nora, she's a girl in our grade. Don't know her that well, though. It's been going on for a few weeks now, but the paranormal activity has only just started recently

You: I think she's in my gym class now that i think about it???

Cameron: u shld tlk 2 her

Cameron: in gym

You: I will

Cameron: Gud I gtg c u tmrw its sleepi time

You: It’s… five in the afternoon????

Cameron: i was up til 3 am yestefr day dont judge me

The conversation ended there, and I turned off the TV. I decided to continue reading my book. I was still relatively at the beginning of the book. I started reading when I got here, called The MMR. It stands for Multicolored Monochrome room. It was about a 9 year old girl named Crynn who could see things that others couldn't, which led the cast somewhere strange, with even stranger people. It was a good book to put me in the mood of strange discoveries.

As I slept that night I wondered if what those two found in the woods could be my world's MMR?

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#lillianrs #the ghosts of melbrew #multimagical #writers on tumblr #tgom #tgom C5

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