It was like any other day in the daily life of Nyla Conners - a 5'2 fourteen-year old with peach-like skin, doe-like brown eyes, and dark hair. The alarm clock beeped at 5:50 in the morning. It intensified its mantra until the teen banged her fist on its hard surface. With her hand stinging, she would rise from her twin bed with a groan, slide out from her covers, and trudge towards the bathroom across the hall in a deep slump. After taking care of her hygienic needs, she'd return to her bedroom, grab her glasses, and make her bed so she'd escape another lecture administered by her mother, who's waiting downstairs, that talked about the importance of cleaning up one's room before starting the day. Nyla was already used to this routine - having been repeating it since she was eleven years old. However, her younger brother, six-year old Hugh, had left his own mattress plagued with undone covers and littered with stuffed monkeys. The boy was already awoken by his sister's alarm and rushed to use the second bathroom downstairs near the kitchen and dining room. The Conners siblings argued a year ago about their timings to use the bathroom until the oldest Conner, their father, suggested to Hugh to move his toothbrush to the lower floor's bathroom. After all, the growing boy wanted to be as early as possible to catch a little game of hoops at the nearby park.
And so, after carefully scrutinizing her clothes through the drawers of her armory, Nyla arrived downstairs in a black zip-up sweater that reached her knees, a white button-up, and indigo capris. Her mother was cooking sunny-side eggs and toasting bread, while Hugh was tapping his shoes impatiently at the wood of the back door from his chair adjacent to the breakfast table. Judging by the wetness of his lips and the unwashed bowl standing on the counter, the sister assumed he had finished eating cereal. No black shoulder bag laid on the coffee table - her dad had left already.
"Mom, I'll take care of the dishes. You go on ahead and take Hugh to the park."
A middle-aged petite women with dark eyes, long eyelashes, and full, slightly frowning lips turned to the teen. If anyone knew better, they'd have thought her mom was from Southeast Asia or Indonesia rather than the Southern Americas.
"Thanks, Nyl' ("Nile"). But I can't seem to find my car keys," Mrs. Conners lifted and dumped a fried egg on a slightly burnt toast - Nyla's favorite.
"Did you check your bag?" The daughter always found it amusing how this was the - How many times has it been now? Oh, whatever. Mrs. Conners manages to forget the keys every morning, which may be because she just wasn't entirely happy with the night shifts she lately participated at the hospital. The most common place she'd misplace them would be the handbag she'd use the previous night.
"Shit," the woman cursed so softly after glancing at the oven timer/clock, only Nyla who was nearest could hear, "Hugh wait out back. Let me get my stuff." Mrs. Conners turned off the stove and dropped the appliances she'd been using into the sink.
Nyla dropped down on a wooden chair and chewed on her toast, occasionally plopping a tomato slice into her mouth from the salad bowl resting on the breakfast table. She absent-mindedly swung her feet back and forth and recounted the materials she'd need for the school day, realizing she needed to check if her Walkman was fully charged or not. Right then, Mrs. Conners approached from the living room with a dark handbag and jangling keys on one hand. Giving a kiss on the side of her daughter's head and receiving back an Eskimo kiss from the teen, the petite woman swung open the back door and closed it softly enough as to not wake up the neighbor's dog, locking it in place. Nyla could hear the backyard entrance gate squeal open and then thud closed.
Checking the time from the oven, she contemplated the timing to catch up to her best friend, Elena, who would be having her older brother drive her to school. Meh, I need the walk, she concluded and chomped the last bit of egg on toast. Chugging a glass of water, she scrubbed the dishes and pans grease-free, ran up the stairs and grabbed her Walkman from its charger. It was fully-charged - Awesome! Releasing the charger from the outlet, she stuffed it in the smallest pocket on her backpack, which laid next to her bedpost. Snatching it, she snugged the straps onto her shoulders. Grabbing her Nokia from its own charger at the endtable, she opened it to see the latest messages she received from Elena.
Get this. Roger suggested the idea of doing the marriage.
That caught Nyla off guard. She knew exactly what her BFF was referring to, though. Apparently, the trio of friends discovered that Elena's Scottish terrier and Roger's dalmatian were gay and in love with each other five month's ago after a coinciding vet appointment - where both dogs were literally licking each others' faces off. The two girls shipped the dog-mance like UPS on a Christmas run.
It was Roger's reaction that didn't bode well. Being the homophobe he was, he screamed, "Holy ape shit outta' Batman!," at the vet's. This awarded a slap from an angry mother and a threat of expulsion from the vet himself. Despite his phobia, he remained tolerant, since Elena promised a good ass-whooping.
Closing the phone and plugging in her headphones, Nyla swiped the device into her right capris-pocket after choosing her personally-made album of B. Ames remixes. Smiling to 4 Werks, she ran back down the stairs on her tippy-toes. Slipping on her sneakers, Nyla fixed the bent in heels and used one hand to open the front door. She pulled her set of house keys from the box nailed to the wall. Slipping out, she stepped into moistness and closed the door, locking it secured. Feeling her phone vibrate, she tugged it out and saw the reminder which was set to 6:10 - Give Roger kick in the ass.
Will do.
The junior arrived to the towering high school in time for her sixth song to start. She then advised herself to save it for today's PE. Seeing her phone's time stencil 6:43, Nyla decided to waste her early period at the library before stopping by the usual meeting place, where she was pretty sure Elena was harrassing Roger's love for the vice-captain of the school's dance team. Little did the boy know, Elena had just the ittiest-bittiest crush on him. Sadly, Roger was so dense, maybe as much as Elena is to the fact that her antics were far too obvious. Just one look at the two of them screamed "NOTICE ME SENPAI." Sighing at this thought, Nyla opened the heavy glass door of the library. Fucks' sake, is this triple-paned?
After a nap against to a huge open encyclopedia on a pedestal, Nyla opened her phone to see she had still 20 minutes to class (7:20). Sweeping herself, she gave a sheepish sorry to the librarian, who shared a knowing smile. Leaving the cold archive room, the teen dodged cliques and bunched friends clogging the hallways in sloppy rivers. Making her way to the wrestling/weight-training room, she found Elena holding a punching bag while Roger swung a punch at the sack. He's getting better at least, Nyla thought as she watched Elena slightly lean backward from the force. Since Roger, as always, punched whilst facing his back towards the entrance, his butt was an easy target because of his stance. Inhaling silently, Nyla spun on one foot and landed a good roundhouse kick - hard enough to break the boy out of position, fall forward, and poomf his head against the sack, sliding down in embarrassing finality.
"Hey Rogel," Nyla pronounced the secret ship name ("Roah-jel") purposefully, earning a glare from Elena before the friend assisted the fallen boy, who recovered with a hazy look in his eyes.
"'Sup, Nyl" Roger rubbed his reddened knuckles and massaged his face, unaware that she addressed him as a ship-name. Guess his head is just as dense as those iron fists of his, she snickered inwardly.
"Wannabe the maid of honor? I picked the priest. But since you and Els both are pretty great singers, either one of you have to sing the theme."
"Opera is not my forte, you know? Besides, did you pick a date?" Nyla cringed, thinking of her past as a soprano soloist.
"This Saturday," Roger noticed his friend's face scrunch up in confusion, "Mom and Dad are leaving to have bonding time with long-distance friends. And, Elena seriously couldn't shut up about it."
Said girl jumped up to Nyla and excitedly confirmed, "That's right! Think of floating bubbles rather than throwing rice, a small buffet of dog food and our own junk food, and a flower crown with a plastic veil! It's perfect! I've always wanted to plan a wedding, but never thought it'd be this exciting and tiring with all these ideas."
"Uh-huh; Personal space, chickity," Nyla pushed the leaning girl with her index finger to the forehead, "As much as all this is pretty extraordinary, isn't it unnecessary?"
Roger secretly agreed to her with a slight nod whilst Elena pouted, "That's what you said to the Harry Potter marathon, but stayed up to the Prisoner of Azkaban."
"Are you kidding me? I had a brain fart trying to digest a giant school with classes of screaming plants, flying books, and kids wearing cloaks that are fire hazards, especially with all those torches around!" exasperatedly spoke the not-so-fan-of-HP.
"Oh come on, it's a magic school," Elena deadpanned.
"Speaking of magic, Mr. Quinn is planning to show us how to change the color of fire using salts," Roger broke in, knowing that Nyla just wasn't as interested in Harry Potter. She was always into the non-mainstream literature and comics. It was comics that always interested her more, since she loved art far more than writing; no thanks to Adv. Lit. and Lang. Even though Marvel or DC didn't appeal to her due to the overwhelming size of their franchise, Nyla had a growing knowledge about the superheroes and side characters. Rather, she liked original comics from local and rising artists as well as manga. Due to her fast reading time and her easily-distracted character, Nyla couldn't cramp enough time to spend watching cartoons and anime. Nor does she like binge-watching - a girl like her loves to sleep. She was always a dreamer.
"You serious?! I thought he canceled that lab because of that last year's fucking idiot who wanted to see if he can make colored ashes!" Elena jokingly showed her grudge on the shortened number of labs she and her class are able to perform this year due to past, explosive incidents.
"He changed his mind. After all, we got Nyl as our patrolman." Nyla only rolled her eyes. She was always known as a "Cop-girl" because she always acted and talked much more maturely than most girls. She blames it on her cosplays as a butler and the long list of historical detective shows that included Sherlock and The Murdock Mysteries.
"Psh, if she was some sorta' cop, she could've packed on cuffs. I wouldn't hesitate to lock Mr. Quinn to his desk and lock the door to ensure our escape. He wouldn't even reach his emergency call button," Elena darkly chuckled and perked her head up at the familiar ding of the pre-class bell.
As much as locking people up was not Nyla's cup of tea, she never enjoyed Mr. Quinn or his teachings. Even she, a person who likes science more than math and English, would fall smack asleep on her desk after hearing seven minutes of his lecture. She shared a long sigh to no one in particular. Fuck, today just gets more depressingly familiar.
"Nyl! You're daydreaming again!" Roger teased the girl who swayed slightly at where she stood in the room as he followed Elena who skipped out. Nyla turned on her Nokia to see that she'd need to be music-free for the next half-hour so as to not waste battery power that she'd need to turn her gears for the six-hour school day. I'm craving some ice cream, or rather some cherry soda. Yeah, I can save sixty-five cents from the soda for a granola bar later. Deciding her future snacks, she turned to follow her two friends to Chemistry class with a stop to the vending machines in mind.
"... so that's how we designate the emission spectrum of each element."
And he still hasn't explained how they can tell which shade of each color the flame will be, Nyla groaned at Mr. Quinn's explanation for spectroscopy. Honestly, she felt like she'd become dumber the more she had class with this guy. But he's far better than Mr. Williams, she reasoned her inner frustration, remembering the "fluff" class she took with him last year for Biology.
She fitted the splash-free goggles over her glasses, hearing her male lab partner, Eric, snicker "six-eyes." And you still have a crush on me, she thought tiredly remembering his past teases. Turns out he found her attractive but was far too "cool" for a bespectacled girl. Oh well, at least he's smart enough to listen to me.
The lab was supposed to be risk-free and Eric actually showed caution despite his usual carefree character. Seeing how quickly he hand the job of starting the fire to Nyla, the teen could only hide a smile at his noticeable pyrophobia. Clicking the firestarter over the Bunsen-burner, a flame manifested into the space of leaking gas. Facinated, Eric leaned close enough to watch Nyla prepare a sample of lithium chloride on a popsicle stick and hover it over the flame. Nearby onlookers gasped as the flame turned reddish-pink. Nyla could've shared a smile with their astonishment until she witnessed someone carelessly nudge a burner's plug out of it's gas exhaust, which was positioned to direct its gas to an array of paper bowls carrying potassium chloride, calcium hydroxide, and sodium chloride. Knowing full well that those salts were highly explosive if near together and exposed to heat, she began running around the desks, shoving people away, and yelling at Mr. Quinn in a hysterical attempt to catch his attention and turn off the exhaust. When she pushed the last person away, she reached to turn the knob was instantly jolted backwards onto the window. Her ears ring and she felt a tear equal to that of ripped papers. Her head hit hard against the window pane, the impact bring black spots into her vision. Despite not hearing the explosion, the aftermath of the reaction allowed her to hear one coherent phrase, "SHIT!"
A/N: Honestly, I can't believe I'm doing this. *Sigh* But I have had so many ideas for my OC story in this one. Might as well try it out. D/C: Transformers does not belong to me!