POTATO MOON, Journal Entry Number 68: “Dear Diary, I Hate Myself today in a way that Makes Me Appealing,” by Noel Thingvall

As he drove up to the school, Edwood’s attention, which was normally drifting about with a steady level of disinterest except when it caught something reflecting his own image back into his piercing eyes with that striking thing he does with his brow and the firmly set lips and … Anyway, his attention was drawn to a swam of crashed vehicles near one end of the parking lot where all of the occupants were fighting one another to make their way to the head of a crowd. This certainly was odd behavior for the teenagers who were supposed to be looking at nothing but him, so Edwood quietly tucked his vehicle off to the side, just enough so its foreign make and expensive model would drive jealousy into everyone still entering the lot, and used his powers of exaggerated leaping to spring from tree to tree until he was able to peer over the crowd to the center of their attention.
 
His eyes, straining against the half-opened pensive appearance they’d become accustomed to, actually widened. They widened so much, in fact, that beads of blood drew from the cracks forming in skin that had met the limit of its developed stretching abilities. He never noticed because all he saw at that point was Bella. She had become … different.