alternate title: the beginning of the e n d

morning light filtered through the dusty curtains adorning the windows, casting strange shadows across iris whitlock's cbedroom walls. she'd been awake for hours, the lumpy mattress underneath her only adding to the growing anxiety that settled in the pit of her ribcage, listening to the whispers that never seemed to cease. today, the voices were particularly intolerable - a symphony of noises that ebbed and flowed like an otherworldly tide. first day of high school. the thought alone made her stomach twist, threatening to bring up last night's dinner.

the digital clock on her nightstand blinked 6:15 AM, its red numbers a stark reminder that she couldn't hibernate under her bedsheets forever. iris pushed herself up from her bed, careful to avoid the creaking floorboard near her door - the one that always seemed to trigger a fresh wave of spectral chatter. her room, though technically hers for four years now, still felt temporary. no posters adorned the walls, no photos cluttered the surfaces. everything could be packed away in twenty minutes if needed. experience had taught her to always be ready to leave. iris had been chucked aside numerous times, as nobody wanted an orphan other than for bragging rights in this small town.

outside her window, smallville was beginning to stir. the birds came alive, twittering and cheeping happily to welcome a new day onto all. she watched as mr. peterson from next door collected his morning paper, completely oblivious to the spirit of his late wife that followed him everywhere. iris had learned early on not to mention such things. people didn't want to know that their loved ones lingered, watching, waiting, speaking words that only she could hear.

the bathroom mirror offered no comfort as she prepared for the day ahead. dark circles shadowed her eyes - testament to another restless night filled with ghostly conversations she couldn't silence. her fingers trembled as she applied mascara and smudged some eyeliner on her waterline, the only makeup she dared to wear. looking too put-together might draw attention, and attention was the last thing she wanted. if word got out that a freakish mutation was hiding out in a rural farm town, iris's name would be blasted all over the world.

"iris!" betty fordman's voice carried up the stairs, her tone carefully neutral. "breakfast is ready!"

the teenage girl had forgone attempting to call betty mom or even her mother, for that matter. that woman would never be half the woman iris assumed her real mother was, and to be ostracized within a family that was supposed to care and provide for you was plain immoral.

the kitchen was filled with the scent of coffee and bacon when iris finally made her way downstairs. her adoptive mother stood at the counter, deliberately spreading butter on bread, her movements precise and controlled. gone were the days when mrs. fordman would greet her with a hug or a gentle touch to the shoulder.

physical contact had stopped the day iris had mentioned hearing the voice of betty's late husband, trying to pass on a message about watching over their son, whitney. from that moment forward, iris whitlock was no longer an esteemed member of the fordman household.

whitney fordman's awful posture slouched over a football at the kitchen table, his letterman jacket already on despite the warm september morning. he barely glanced up as iris entered, but his jaw tightened visibly. "mom," he said, voice sharp, "the freak's staring again."

"whitney," betty airily warned, but there was no real admonishment in her tone. she slid a brown paper bag across the counter to iris. "i made you lunch. salami sandwich, apple, a leftover brownie."

the words were kind, but the delivery was mechanical, as if reading from a script titled 'how to be a foster parent: for dummies.' ever since iris had started talking about the voices, about seeing mr. fordman's spirit, the warmth had drained from their relationship. betty seemed torn between her christian duty to care for an orphan and her fear of the girl who claimed to speak with her dead husband.

whitney pushed his chair back with deliberate force, the legs scraping against the linoleum. "i'm out. brent's giving me a ride." he paused at the door, fixing iris with a cold stare. "try not to weird out the entire freshman class on your first day, sis." the last word dripped with sarcasm, and iris felt the sting, though she refused to let it penetrate the facade gently wrapped around her heart.

as she watched her brother step out of the front door, iris silently chewed on her slice of toast and a crispy piece of bacon, relishing in the crunch underneath her teeth. she loved different textures, different feels and different tastes. they reminded her that she was still alive, that she could still feel. that she was still, somewhat, human.

the clearing of a throat rang throughout the otherwise quiet kitchen, and iris hesitantly turned around to see betty staring nervously at the floor.

reluctantly, betty sighed and pointed to the mini table tucked away in the corner. on top of it sat a shiny, jangly pair of keys to the family car. "i'll... i'll drive you. just stay quiet and do not make me crash, so help me god. you hear me?"

iris had never nodded her head faster. being driven by the wicked witch of the east took the cake over ending up an hour late due to walking.

the drive to school was excruciating. iris sat in the backseat of betty's sedan, watching smallville scroll past the window, her foot tapping rapidly with every passing second. the spirits were especially active today, their voices rising and falling like static on a radio. a young man in his outdated letterman jacket, probably from the '60s, kept pace with the car, his spectral form flickering as he repeated something about a championship game. iris squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block him out.

the twenty minute drive felt like three hours. iris would have preferred walking. the car slowed mere moments later, prompting her to open her eyes and be greeted with her prison for the next four years: smallville high. it loomed before them, a sprawling brick building that seemed to pulse with teenage energy. cars filled the parking lot, their drivers calling out greetings and eagerly sharing summer stories, excitedly catching up with school friends. betty pulled up to the curb, her knuckles white against the steering wheel.

"go on, there's the doors," she said, not quite meeting iris's eyes in the rearview mirror. "i'll pick you up at three-thirty."

iris nodded, clutching her backpack like a shield as she stepped out into the morning air. the ghosts were everywhere here - teachers from decades past still trying to conduct their lessons, former students wandering the halls, even a janitor who didn't seem to realize he'd passed on sometime during the roosevelt administration. their voices overlapped, creating a cacophony that made her head spin.

she took a deep breath and forced herself to move forward. new school, new version of her to create. maybe this time would be different. maybe this time she could keep the voices to herself, pretend to be normal, make it through at least one semester without everyone finding out she was a freak of nature.

the main entrance was crowded with students, their energy electric with first-day jitters and reunion joy. a group of seniors held court near the doors, their confidence apparent in their lazy postures and easy laughter. freshmen huddled in nervous clusters, comparing schedules and trying to look like they belonged. iris spotted whitney and his football team stalking confidently through the crowd, whooping and riling up those around them. she ducked her head and closed her eyes, moving on. she did not want to be the first one on his daily hit list.

iris kept her head down as she navigated through the crowd, mumbling a quiet "excuse me" and wincing out a "sorry" as she bumped into people. the spirits parted for her - they always did - creating a bubble of cold air that made several students shiver and step aside. she pretended not to notice their confused expressions, the way they rubbed their arms against the sudden chill. she hated it, hated the fact that she was a human air conditioner who could speak to dead people. iris just wanted to be normal, and she was just skimming the line of blowing her cover.

the main office was her first stop. she needed to pick up her schedule and locker assignment. as she approached the counter, an elderly secretary's ghost hovered near the filing cabinets, muttering about proper alphabetization. iris forced herself to focus on the living secretary instead, a middle-aged woman with kind eyes and a nameplate that read "mrs. henderson."

"hi, ma'am." she timidly spoke, eyes trained on the floor. after years of being yelled at for making eye contact, it was a habit she grew to develop. "i'm iris whitlock, freshman year. i need to pick up my schedule and locker number, please."

"ma'am?" mrs. henderson giggled, a hand on her chest. "oh, sweetie, you have more manners than the other kids i've met today. what a sweetheart," she mumbled absentmindedly, looking down at her computer before pressing a few keys.

mrs. henderson's fingers flew across her keyboard. "ah yes, here we are. whitlock, iris. freshman..." she printed out a sheet of paper and handed it over with a warm smile. "welcome to smallville high! your locker is number 247, combination's right there on the paper. it's on the second floor, next to the science department. do you need help finding your first class?"

before iris could respond, a tall boy with messy dark hair burst through the office door, nearly colliding with her. "sorry! sorry, i'm late for my meeting with principal kwan." he flashed an apologetic yet boyishly awkward grin that made something flutter in iris's chest. then his expression changed, brow furrowing slightly as he looked at her. really looked at her, in a way that made her wonder if he could sense something different about her.

internally, she slapped herself. there was no way he could know. she offered a weak grin in return, feeling scrutinized under his gaze. "sorry," she said, shuffling out of his way. iris didn't pay too much mind to him, deciding to move on and focus on mrs. henderson.

"mr. kent," mrs. henderson said with a fond expression of exasperation. "principal kwan is expecting you. go on in."

the boy - kent, she thought - gave iris one more curious glance before disappearing into the principal's office. the secretary had stopped her muttering to watch him go, a smile of remembrance on her face. "such a nice boy," she said to no one in particular. "just like his father."

iris clutched her schedule tighter and hurried out of the office. she had six minutes to find her locker and get to first period english. six minutes to navigate halls crowded with both the living and the dead. six minutes to start proving she could be normal.

she didn't notice the way the dark-haired boy watched her through the principal's office window, or how his green eyes narrowed thoughtfully as the temperature around her dropped and the way she seemed to skirt around in a certain way in empty parts of the hall.

-----

by the time lunch rolled around, iris was already exhausted from the day. navigating through the sea of students had been a sensory overload in itself, not just from the living but the dead as well. the whispers, the flickering figures in her periphery - she was used to them, but the sheer volume of them at smallville high specifically was overwhelming. it seemed like this school had more ghosts than students. what was going on in this town?

math class was her last period before lunch, and iris hoped it would be a reprieve of every noise that rattled in her mind. numbers were straightforward, predictable. there were rules and formulas and theorems, logic that didn't constantly shift and stretch like the shadows in her vision. she slid into a seat near the window and pulled out her notebook, doing her best to ignore the faint image of an old teacher at the blackboard, scrawling out equations that no one but her could see.

"new kid in town, huh?"

the voice snapped iris out of her focus, and she turned to see an eccentrically blonde girl dropping into the seat beside her, setting down a battered, sticker-covered notebook detailed with doodles and what looked like article headlines. she had an easy confidence about her, one that suggested she wasn't afraid to speak her mind.

"yeah," iris admitted cautiously. "that obvious?"

"thought so. i have an eye for this kind of thing. chloe sullivan." the girl grinned, tapping a pen against her desk. "aspiring reporter, future pulitzer winner, and current writer of the smallville torch - our very own student-run newspaper, one day making it on the front pages of the daily planet. and you are?"

"iris whitlock," she said hesitantly, not used to people actually wanting to know her name. chloe had so many credentials behind her name already, and it was the first day of school. overachievers were weird.

"cool name. mysterious, kind of poetic." chloe leaned in conspiratorially. "so, what's your deal? moved here with your parents, or are you part of smallville's thriving foster system?"

iris stiffened slightly at how quickly chloe had nailed it. "second one," she said, trying to keep her voice neutral. the girl looked like she meant no harm. maybe it was time for iris to finally, after attempting for years, make a friend.

chloe must have noticed the way iris tensed because she held up her hands. "hey, no judgment. just means you've got a story. and i love a good story."

iris wasn't sure if she liked that or not. she wasn't used to people being curious about her in a way that wasn't outright hostile. still, there was something about chloe's energy that was hard to ignore - like she was a whirlwind that had already decided to sweep Iris into her orbit whether she liked it or not.

the more level-headed girl sighed, looking over to the bubbly girl at her side. "trust me, my story's not that great. parents killed in a car crash, jumping from home to home until finally settling with snobby rich people that hate me? no thanks."

chloe giggled and placed a friendly hand on iris's arm. "doesn't seem not that great to me. i'll interview you any time."

the teacher - mr. richardson - finally started class, droning on about polynomials. chloe passed iris a note five minutes in.

you seem cool. if you decide not to ditch this joint, lunch table's open. consider this an invitation to sit with me and my friends. don't worry, they're not football jerks.

iris read the note twice, surprised by the unexpected kindness. she glanced at chloe, who simply shot her a knowing look before turning back to her notes. did she just make her first friend?

maybe this day wouldn't be super awful.