Disclaimer: okay, Disney owns Sky High. Anyone you recognize is not mine. They belong to Disney. Like Lash, Warren, etc. So don't bug me about it.
The Nightmare Begins
The alarm clock went off early one morning for reasons unknown. The girl to whom the alarm clock belonged, whose name might or might not be Anna, but is more probably Charlie and certainly not Bill, ignored it. She would have continued ignoring it and likely gone back to sleep had not two dogs and a 13-year-old boy dashed into her room screaming, and jumped on the bed. Maybe-Anna-Probably-Charlie-Not-Bill can now testify as to the difficulties of attempted unconsciousness when one is violently moved about and occasionally stepped on or licked.
"All right!" she bellowed, kicking off the covers. "I'm up; now get out, ye flea-bitten nags! The means you, too, Sam!" She shoved her way out of the bed, pausing to watch the three tussle. "And you better not shred my new comforter or I swear to God, I will incinerate you." Maybe-Anna-Probably-Charlie-Not- Bill stumbled to her bathroom, the last iota of her morning cheerfulness used up until breakfast.
"I hate Mondays," she murmured, attacking the rats' nest that would eventually pass for hair. She was so getting a pixie cut over the weekend. Or shaving it all off. "I won't freak the other freshmen out just yet. I can be normal. Ish." Washing her face, she debated with the air as to whether or not she could be normal.
"I mean, I brush my teeth. I put on my pants one leg at a time. Heck, I even watch TV," she argued, somewhat unconvincingly. "My name is even normal. Charlie. How much more normal can I get?" she asked her mother, accepting the scrambled eggs handed to her.
Her mother groaned. "Charlie, it's too early for this. Why do you insist on torturing me?" Charlie's Mom wasn't her real mom, but they were both night owls. Mrs. Alicia Newton (AKA Thought Process) was a former sidekick with a day job as a psychologist/therapist. 5'6 and pudgy, Mrs. Newton's wits arrived with the morning coffee.
"Arguing always wakes me up," Charlie mumbled through her eggs. She didn't look anything like her adopted mom, something that displeased her greatly. People always immediately asked if she was adopted. Ms. Newton was plump, and had thick black hair that fell down her back with a graceful wave, plump red lips, a crooked nose and dark brown eyes. Charlie was just under 5'4" and skinny. Pin straight light brown hair (often dyed) with a distinct refusal to allow anything from delicate up-dos to a single curl. Pale green eyes examined a butterfly hovering outside the window. Perfectly average lips and a snub nose completed the ensemble, creating what seamed to Charlie a normal and unremarkable face. She could, however, be very happy to have escaped the worst of the acne battle that plagued most others her age.
"Charlie, you zoned out again."
She jumped. The butterfly... utterly fascinating. The royal blue wings beating the air furiously to stay aloft and at the same time allow the butterfly to enjoy the sweet nectar had completely captured her attention. "Sorry Mom. Hey, gotta run, 'kay? Smack Sam for me?" Her mom always said no, but one of these days he might just be contrary enough for her to do it.
It was still muggy with the remains of last night's shower as Charlie walked to her bus stop. She considered trying out her new rain dance (her last one had been banned when AJ, enthusiastically flipping back and forth, had flipped into her mom's favorite gardenia bush), but again, decided to be nice to the other freshmen. Or rather, refrain from becoming a social outcast and designated weirdo on her first day.
"Hello AJ. I'm wondering." Another girl falling into step next to her laughed.
"You've been wondering something or other since the first grade. What are you wondering now?"
"I get the feeling I will hate freshmen. But since I will be a freshman myself, does that mean I have to hate myself? Or can I be selective in my disdain of my fellow ninth graders?" AJ shook her head.
"Dunno. Don't care either. Not like it affects me. So you can go on hating whoever your heart desires, and I will do my homework." They shook on it. "Okay. Traditional topic of hating your classmates closed. Excited about the new school year?" A sound escaped Charlie that people were unsure whether to term a snort or snicker.
"Alexandria Josephine Vintner. It is 7:45 in the morning. I am standing on a street corner waiting for a bus. I will soon have enough homework to make the Tower of Pisa finish tipping over. And you are asking me if I'm excited?" AJ colored.
"Charlie," she hissed. "Do not call me that! Especially when we get to school."
"What? Your name? You have such an inferiority complex, AJ." admonishing one friend, she failed to notice the other, Rod, come up next to her until he flicked her ear.
"Ow, gimme a break! Gawd, why does everyone feel like it's ok to destroy my soul?"
"Let's go drama queen. That big yellow thing that most people classify as a bus, you know it? It's about to pull up." Charlie trailed her two friends, rubbing her ear.
"I should lift weights," she announced. Ignoring the raised eyebrows, she explained her epiphany. "Our society admires people who look like they can care for themselves; our mate has to be able to protect us or our children if necessary. Now that I'm in high school, and preparing for the 'real world,' I need to begin making myself attractive and available so I don't end up somebody's spinster aunt living in the basement."
"Hey, freshman, you could have just said you wanted all the guys to think you were hot." Charlie turned. Black hair, cut short and spiked, with strange red streaks; fingerless leather gloves, dark jeans, a leather jacket, and an overactive sense of self-importance.
"Are you a motorcycle nut or something?" Charlie always wanted a motorcycle. She didn't know anything about them, but she had convinced herself she could learn. Motorcycles were just about as close as she could get to flying without freaking out the regular people. Spikey looked surprised.
"Yeah. Fixed up an old one I found in a junkyard. I need to get her a paint job," he added wistfully. "Right now my pockets are empty. But she goes like nothing you've seen."
"Mom laughed when I asked. Didn't say a word. Just walked away laughing." Charlie made a face. "She grounded me when I made inquiries as to exactly what she put in her coffee, which, of course, she took to mean I was implying she was on crack."
"Were you?"
"Was I what?"
"Implying she was on crack?"
Charlie looked affronted. "Of course." Then, with rare comedic timing, she added, "in retrospect, not my best idea."
AJ and Rod started laughing. They were still laughing when the bus pulled up, though admittedly it was a bare half second later. Charlie sulked as she followed them onto the bus. They would laugh as half so much if she came to school looking like a juggalo. Although they might pretend not to know her.
Charlie was laughing. If it was petty, and she was pretty sure it was, she didn't care. Oh, the joy that filled her soul when Rod and AJ screamed on that bus ride was worth getting pegged with a notebook. It was almost as much fun as telling them that she'd experienced better. That had earned her another beating.
"Hey, Spikey!" Charlie called. "Get your butt over here."
"Don't call me that," he advised. "I will fry you."
"Apparently there's going to be a lot of scorching other people today. I promised my brother I would incinerate him."
"You're not a pyro. I can tell if people are."
Charlie exhaled and scratched her head. "AJ-"
AJ stopped her before she even started. "I barely understand myself. Leave me alone. Besides, can't he just find out in power placement?"
"She's right," Rod interjected. "You'll be explaining all day. You're here for someone else to figure you out. Let them do their job."
"Thanks for insinuating I'm mental. I really appreciate that."
"I knew you would."
Charlie turned back to Spikey as Rod and AJ walked off; he had been watching them with something akin to amusement but was now attempting to school his face to neutrality.
"Um, yeah, 6th- or is it 5th?- gen on my dad's side, my great-something grandpa got dumped in a vat of toxic waste, except he didn't just get dumped into it he accidentally swallowed it and it started messing with his head. Fun times, I'm sure. My mom was the first in her family; no one's quite sure how she got her powers. So they ended up with me. Yippee. My power- um I guess it's a form of tele-whatever, I can manipulate the elements but I can't produce them. Air, water and earth are easy. There are always some of them nearby. I keep a lighter handy for fire. B-T-W, what's the name?"
"Warren, but what about the fifth element?" he asked. "Some people think it's time, some people think it's spirit or the mind. And what about the lesser elements, like metal, or-"
"Whoa." Charlie cut him off, frowning. "If I had all that I wouldn't need to come here, I'd be locked up in a sparkly white place for observation. As for what the fifth element is, that's up to debate. Most modern pagans call it ether, spirit, and include the mind with it. Some people think it's the person as a whole, mind, body and spirit. And there are so many more that I could name we'd still be standing here at the end of the school day, but right now we are getting left behind, so shut up and walk."
They walked in silence, Charlie's mind churning. After cocooning a boy in the eighth grade literally in an earthen tomb, she was reluctant to try anything outside of the secure reach of Sam, her telepathic brother. He had learned early how to shut people's minds down, a la her major stupidity and immaturity. Despite his antics that morning, he was actually more adult than she was, even if he was only 10.
The freshmen were ushered into a large, shiny gym to be met by a smiling woman who introduced herself as Principal Powers.
"-I hope you enjoy your time here as you learn everything you need to know to succeed as a super hero- or a sidekick. But first you will be examined to see where your strengths lie- class, this is Sonic Boom; you may call him Coach Boomer. He will decide whether you are a hero, or a sidekick, which will determine the classes you take during your time here. So do your best! Comets away!" Dissolving into a shower of sparks, she left them to the mercy of the terror dubbed 'Gym Teacher Man: With an Ego.'
"All right. We'll go in whatever order I feel like. I'm the one who decides what you are and how useful your power is, and I don't want any whiner babies complaining to their mommies how they were hero support because they could turn into a band aid. Acacia Thorn!"
"Here," a girl waved and went back to talking to her friends. Noticing Coach Boomer was still looking for her she waved again and yelled a little louder, "I'm here!"
"And why aren't you here?" he demanded irritatedly. She blushed and walked up to the platform.
"Sorry. What do you need me to do?"
Boomer rolled his eyes. "How about showing me your powers since we are in Power Placement?" He suggested.
Acacia began changing, becoming more and more plantlike until she had holly for a face, briars for legs, ivy for hair and less recognizable plants for the rest of her body. It was a little bit offputting.
"Hero!" Boomer called. "Take a seat on that side of the gym." The gym was slowly filling up. On one side, apparently, sat heroes and on the other sat sidekicks.
"Now I want- you, Hothead." Charlie sniggered. If he hadn't liked Spikey how would he like Hothead?
Stiffly, Warren walked up to the platform. "I have a name."
"I can't use it if I don't know it, Hothead. Or would you prefer Spike?" Boomer taunted him. Warren growled, and flames began licking his arms as Boomer continued. "Oh look, a lightshow. That's just not making the cut, sorry. What else you got?" Warren created a fireball his own size and threw it on the ground. It created a good 10 foot hole. "That's more like it. Hero! What's your name?"
"Warren Peace."
A chilling sensation trickled down her spine. Warren Peace, the son of Baron Battle and Olivia Peace. Son of the first real super villain since The Demon. Son of the man who turned Valiant into Valiant Delinquency. Warren Peace.
Ooh, that sucker was gonna get it. How dare he be cooler than her?
There were some more heroes, and some sidekicks. Then it was Charlie's turn.
Being the last, she walked up before he yelled at her. He'd already sent two kids to the principal's office, and she didn't intend on being the third.
"Hi, so I was wondering, can this place help me learn the full extent of my powers or do I need to attend a different power school because I don't think I fully understand them myself, and I could give you a demonstration of what I know but it wouldn't really be up to par since I don't know exactly what I can accomplish-"
"Hey. Shut up and power up. Tell me your name while you're at it." Boomer looked tired.
"Chamomile for a pick-me-up," she muttered. "I'm Charlie Flitter."
Boomer rolled his eyes. He really wanted to retire. Why couldn't he retire? Live in the Bahamas, never have to deal with a stinking teenager ever again. "There is no Charlie Flitter here."
Charlie gently took his clipboard and pen and scribbled something on the paper. "They spelled my name wrong. So sorry for the inconvenience." Charlie smiled at him as innocently as she could manage, which wasn't very. Then she sat down.
"Wow! What a power!"
"Boom-baby, we got us a killer!"
"Aww, the cute freshman has no powers. Damn, guess we'll have to send her home."
Turn her smile to the crowd, she exploded the floor, freezing it all in midair just as it would have hit them. She then politely returned the pieces to their original position, and for good measure, left it broken. Eh, she was lazy. She then used the water from the basement to make it rain on the heroes. And blew a few of them off the bleachers (and, incidentally, Gym Teacher Man With An Ego). And provided the sidekicks a nice breeze, because hey, it wasn't like they could really defend themselves.
Boomer, from his position on the floor, scribbled 'hero' onto the clipboard, as well as 'detention.' "Bahamas," he lamented.
