|Anthem Of The Angels
Author: EscapeHollowFieldsClub PM
Follow Claude and his club as they try to escape Hollow Fields! The only two remaining members of this club both have a secret, involving kids in the windmill; and Lucy is determined to find out why this group hates girls so much.Rated: Fiction K+ - English - Adventure/Suspense - Claude M. - Chapters: 4 - Words: 5,848 - Reviews: 3 - Favs: 2 - Follows: 2 - Updated: 10-29-11 - Published: 06-30-10 - id: 6100071
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
This be Tristan! This fanfiction is based off of the Hollow Fields manga. I'm writing this with my friend, who i has dubbed as Trina, since the character Trina is hers. And mine ish known as Tristan. So, yes, there will be OC's. Deal with it. This story is mainly focused on them and Claude. And there will be stories if you havn't read all three volumes of Hollow Fields!
Please reveiw~! Trina wrote this entire chapter, and she was some encouragement (besides me and Claude - my sister). No flames please~!
"So who do you think it'll be this week?" Chris asked, shoveling another spoonful of food into his mouth. Claude shrugged and continued chewing. Trina bit her lip and hunched her shoulders so her black bangs covered her eyes. No one really wanted to know the answer to the question everyone asked every Friday:
Who would be going to the windmill?
It was Nathan who answered. "Probably Francine," he said. "Everyone knows she never does her homework."
"True," Marcus replied, "but Simon's been falling behind lately too…"
"Whoever it is," Claude interrupted, "it doesn't matter, as long as it's not one of us." Everyone nodded in agreement. Trina hunched down further, and then snapped back up as Stinch's voice echoed through the Dining hall.
"Silence you squirts! Miss Weaver wishes to speak!"
The conversation faded away as Miss Weaver, the imposing and slightly terrifying Headmistress of Hollow Fields, rose from her seat. "Thank you, Stinch," she said. Miss Weaver never needed to raise her voice; when she spoke, people listened. "As you all know, the time has come for me to announce the name of the person who performed the poorest this week," Weaver continued. "And as it has been every Friday, please remove yourself in an orderly fashion if your name is called." She looked out into the crowd. "Understand?"
There was silence as a few children mutely nodded their heads.
"Good," Weaver said. She beckoned to a drone, which came forward and deposited a sheet of paper into the headmistress' hand. Miss Weaver looked it over and a small smile came to her lips. "The student with the lowest grade this week is…"
The entire student body held its breath in anticipation.
The only sound in the dining hall was the swish of a hundred of heads as everyone turned to look at the girl. Not even Summer Polinski, the Most Popular Girl in School, had anything good to say about this. The five boys at Trina's table stared at her with wide, disbelieving eyes. She closed her eyes in resignation and rose, her jaw clenched, to accept her fate. Her twin brother Tristan reached out and grabbed her wrist.
"Trina," He looked up at her through his dark bangs, identical to hers, with panicked eyes. "Trina, no. I won't let them." She forced a smile and gently pulled his hand off her wrist.
"Don't worry about me," she assured him. "I'll be fine."
"Maybe I could go instead, maybe they made a mistake," he fumbled, but she held her hand up, stopping him.
"Don't worry," she repeated, "I'll be back." She then leaned close to her brother and whispered, "I'll be the very first one to come back." She grabbed his neck in a fierce, quick hug and walked away from her friends, her head held high. With every eye trained on her, she joined Stinch in the middle of the room.
"Let's go, kiddie," Stinch growled, prodding her with his crook. "Stinch hasn't gots all day." Trina turned to her brother and smiled cheerfully at him over her shoulder as Stinch herded her out of the dining hall. Tristan watched her with unblinking eyes as she disappeared out into the rain and the doors closed with a final boom.
The children chattered and went back to their meals, but Tristan stared unseeingly at the doors in disbelief. He didn't flinch, even when Miss Weaver lead the toast and sat back down. Finally, Claude looked over at his friend, his dark eyes uncharacteristically full of worry.
"Are you okay?" Claude asked, reaching out to reassure him. Tristan shrugged him off, stood and left the dining hall, breaking into a run once he reached the hall.