Chapter 001
Monday
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Costumes and Masks
Marie
First day at Sky High...
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There are all kinds of masks.
There are emotional masks, the kind worn on the inside, just beneath the skin, between muscle and flesh, that hise the pain inside people's hearts.
There are societal masks- those are necessary, because everyone expects you to be a certain way, and if you're not that way, just that way, then everyone thinks you're a freak. To avoid feeling like a complete outcast, you put up the masks society decrees everyone who doesn't fit into the mainstream should have.
Then, of course, there's the masks that I wear. I have many of them- more than a hundred, in fact. And since this is my first day at Sky High, I'll wear the one that goes with my best outfit.
My sister had made it for me- right before everything went straight to Hell.
Right before I'd been forced to leave my father's stronghold and attend Sky High as a Sophomore when I'd never been out of my house except on distress calls before.
Right before my father had told me what would happen if I didn't do well here at Sky High, how Principal Powers would speak to the League about "taking steps." For my own good, of course.
So I walked into Sky High, high school for super heros, wearing the most beautiful things in my closet- my quilted, patch-work, knee-length kimono jacket, in reds and magentas and blacks and pinks and violets. My Arabian-style knee-trousers- made with soft, crimson and gold Indian silk on top of black satin. My black mushu slippers from China. My black leather knapsack from Peru, stitched with gold Comedy and Tragedy Masks. And my silver blond hair tied in a braid so tight I thought my face would get stuck this way.
So I walked in. And immediately thought my life was coming to an end.
I wanted to scream. I wanted to throw things. I wanted to run and hide. I wanted to sneak into the principal's office, curl up under her desk, and sleep forever. I wanted to get back on the bus and talk to Ron about everything and nothing.
There were too many people. There was too much noise. There were too many windows and too many smells invading the halls and too much high pitched squealing as people turned on their electrical equipment.
Every few minutes, I would hear those squeals and I would wonder why no one was afraid of the glass in the windows breaking. Didn't the teachers know you could easily slice open a couple arteries with a simple shard of broken glass from a shattered window?
I double checked the sleeves of my kimono jacket. They weren't long enough to reach my wrists, which is why I was wearing a piece of memorabilia so old probably the principal wouldn't even recognize it- a long sleeved shirt made from my mother's first cape. But now that I was here, I realized that wearing something that would make people look at me was probably a bad idea. They were all staring...
And then I realized I was missing both my backpack and my lunchbox. All I had was my leather messenger back/knapsack.
Reaching into it, feeling my heart trying to claw its way through my throat, I pulled out one of my favorite masks, one of soft black satin and crimson sequins and beads, and tied it to my face.
Immediately, everyone stopped staring, and I felt much better. Masks were made for hiding in plain sight.
Until I saw a gorgeous Junior guy that made my lungs try to wiggle back into the realm of "burning-for-air-because-you-stopped-breathing." And then I saw the new assistant coach working for Coach Boomer.
The desire to run away screaming and hide somewhere safe came back a hundred fold. I suddenly wished the windows would shatter, so that I'd have a piece of glittering jagged sharpness to play with, in case I needed a pick-me-up. I wouldn't cut deep, after all.
Burning Up Inside
Warren
First day as a Junior at Sky High...
.
Everything was on fire. Every nerve in my skin burned, my flesh smoldered, the acids in my stomach boiled and the blood in my veins began to simmer, Inside my skull, my mind and my eyes blazed with this incredible fire, And for once, nothing anyone did was helping to douse that flame.
Liz Whitney- Ice Princess Extraordinaire- had broken up with me over the summer. Something about not realizing just how close to my father's supervillain tendencies I was.
She was right- though all of my friends tried to tell me otherwise. I did have a dark side, closer to the surface than anyone in my group of friends knew. It smoldered inside me, waiting to catch a spark and ignite, explode into a vicious inferno that would destroy everything in my path. It was what my mother was always afraid would happen to me- my fire would burst out of me in some kind of... some kind of... I didn't know. An explosion, maybe, but that seemed like such a mild word to describe what could happen. What would happen if I wasn't careful.
I didn't know everything, and I didn't even know half of everything. All I knew was that I didn't want to hurt my mother again, the way I had as a kid, with my powers getting out of control. But the feelings were coming back from that time, and my powers were starting to flow over again.
"You are one distracted guy," one of Layla's new friends murmured. I was trying to keep them straight- there was Violet Parr, the girl who'd been talking. There were a couple others, but I didn't know them and I didn't care.
Violet had problems- I could see that in the way her sweater hung like a sack on her body, how her bones were stuck out against her paper-thin skin, how they were so sharp you could cut yourself if you weren't careful. Her eyes were lifeless and lightless. It was almost frightening to look at her.
It was frightening to look at all of them. We were being pulled into our adulthood without a warning, and everything was becoming harder than we all expected. It was like we had done what our parents told us, set the world on fire, except that now the blaze was out of control and burning down around our ears.
Ethan had lost his glasses and gotten contacts. He no longer wore sweaters and high-waters. He wore raggedy jeans with holes and ripped up black sweaters decorated with safety pins. He said he was doing it for this girl- a normal girl, a civilian- because she was an artist and he was her canvas. Some bizarre stuff like that. We had all sunk down into strangeness. It was like we were on Mars, or in Hell, or dead.
Even Layla, our shining beacon of hope and the promise of better things and sense somewhere in the world, was starting to fade too. When she used her powers, the plants didn't grown anymore. They died. Shriveled up and wilted and turned to dust and death.
I knew somehow, that if this kept up post-graduation, we wouldn't make it to saving the world more than once. We'd all die, because we didn't have reasons to live anymore.
How did we get this way?
"Warren?" Layla murmured. I saw her and Will exchange a strange look. Almost concerned.
I got up, grabbed my backpack, waved and left.
Oo8oo8oo8oo8oO
I didn't get very far. I had walked off and before I'd had a chance to sort out the burning feeling in my chest so I could douse it before anyone got hurt, I ran into something.
Except I didn't see anything.
"Hey!"
"Sorry, I... great, an invisible girl. Mind becoming visible for a minute so I know who to avoid in future?"
Suddenly there was a girl standing in front of me, staring at me like I had horns. Her eyes were like glass beads of all colors- then I realized it was the residual effects of her being invisible. She was dressed like something out of Aladdin or Mulan- couldn't tell which- and was holding a black and red mask in her hands. She had a small bag, that was it. No backpack or lunchbox or anything. She was sheet white, like she was gushing invisibly from some artery and hadn't realized she was dying yet.
"Who are you?" I asked.
"N-n-no one."
"You don't have a name?"
She nodded quickly, looking around as if someone was going to rescue her. From what? I wondered. Me? What did I do to her? I hadn't been psychotic Warren Peace, son of the supervillain, for almost two full school years. What was her problem?
"Are you going to tell me what it is?"
She mumbled something.
"Didn't hear that."
"Marie." Her voice was like spiderwebs. They could've disappeared in the wind. "Marie Lenaldo." And she ran inside, into the school, before I could say another word.
It was only after she had disappeared from view, and my insides twisted like they were being lit up by a blowtorch, and it felt like I was burning up inside, I realized the minute I'd walked into her, the flames had died down to a gentle smolder. They were waiting, waiting for the moment she disappeared like smoke on the wind, but she calmed that fire for a moment, put it to sleep.
For just a minute, I wasn't burning up inside.
Cold as Ice
Lara
At lunch on the first day back...
.
Who did that little miss nothing girl think she was? She was a sophomore, for crying out loud! What was so great about one of them? And why was Warren even giving her the time of day?! Didn't he know he was ruining his image and reputation by even being seen in the company of THAT?!
Now, yes, Will Stronghold and all of his friends were sophomores, but Will Stronghold was the son of the Commander! And Josie Jetstream! He wasn't an ordinary sophomore. And his girlfriend, that Layla person, well... she had the strongest elemental power in school, besides newly-made senior Liz Whitney, one of only two girls- twins- to exhibit ice powers in over three generations of superheroes.
So why was the sexiest Junior at Sky High even speaking to that disgusting, fashion-disaster of a sidekick?
Well, it didn't matter. Soon enough, Warren wouldn't have eyes for anyone- anyone at all, including his stupid sophomore friends- except her. She would turn his heart to ice, and he would be hers. Hers to love, hers to kiss, hers to keep.
Forever.
Damsel in Distress
Boomer
In the gym during lunch...
.
Hero placement would start again soon. How many more whiner babies would I have to deal with? They just got more spoiled every year. I'm a beachball, so I should be able to be a hero! I can turn into a lizard, so I'm a superhero! It was grating on my last nerve, I tell ya.
"Boomer?"
Oh, it was Ron. What was Ron doing here?
"What d'ya want, Wilson?" I demanded. Ron twisted his cap in his hands and replied, "Have you seen Marie?"
"Marie who?" Did he have any idea how many kids I had to deal with on a daily basis? It was the first day of school, and I had at least thirty new faces to learn! A last name would be a little help. Marie Antoinette? Marie Wilson? Marie Smith? Who was Marie? And why was Ron taking such an active interest in her?
"Marie Lenaldo," Ron said. He was starting to turn bright red. Well, the last name hadn't helped. I had no idea who Marie Lenaldo was, either. "Look, I'm worried about her, Boomer. And that new assistant you've got, you know-"
"What's your problem with my assistant? Ashton Bates is a good kid! He went to school with my kid sister."
"Well... I... I just don't get a good vibe off of him, do you know what I mean?" Ron asked. I almost felt sorry for the guy- he looked... well... almost helpless. Like he was trying to explain the concept of a rainbow to someone who's totally color blind, or the concept of a musical harmony to someone who's tone deaf. But unfortunately, I didn't see anything wrong with Ashton Bates, my new assistant teacher, and he didn't really have a reason to be asking questions about this Marie kid.
"Ron," I began, when Princial Powers strode in, looking positively harassed.
"Ron, I've heard from the other teachers that you've been asking about Marie. You can't show favoritism, Ron, I told you that before she started school."
"Favoritism?" I echoed. "Why would he show her favoritism?"
"Because she's my cousin," Ron muttered, twisting his cap in his hands even harder now. "And Principal Powers, for Marie's sake I think I need to check up on her. She's not used to dealing with so many people at one time- we've got over three hundred kids at Sky High. And now you've hired Ashton Bates!" He added vehemently.
I was at a loss as to why that would be a problem, or at least a problem for this Marie kid, but the helpless fury on Ron's face had me half-convinced that the guy was half a scum-bag already. But all Principal Powers said was, "You can be there for her power placement, so long as you don't cause a disturbance. Also, her father sent this to the school, said she forgot... it..."
Principal Powers had held up what was probably a backpack and a lunchbox, though they looked more like designer bags from somewhere south of Fantasy Land, when a young woman, maybe fifteen, ran into the gym with tears streaming down her face. I saw the silver hair and the kimono jacket and realized which Marie it was that Ron had been talking about.
I couldn't believe how much she'd changed. The last time I had seen her was almost five years ago, before I got the job teaching gym at Sky High. I'd been her baby sitter when her father had gone out on distress calls. Then she'd been a painfully shy, almost delicate child who could spout off the strangest things to you- usually quotes from books and poetry. Her mother had been responsible for that, reading her the things she had- Shakespeare, Mallory, Tennyson, Byron, Kipling, Dickens, Stoker, Shelley. She'd been one of those artsy-craftsy types, doing crochet and knitting and quilting and weaving and stuff. She'd also liked to sing, and dance. And now, after one day of school, she'd been reduced to this?
"Marie!" Ron cried, and scrambled over to where she'd collapsed to the gym floor, clutching her stomach and rocking back and forth. "Marie, what happened? What is it? What's wrong?"
"Ron, I'm sorry, I'm really sorry, I didn't mean to freak out, but I can't breathe, Ron, I can't breathe," she managed to gasp out. She was ghost pale, her face almost gray. She whimpered and pressed her face against Ron's shirt, gasping and sobbing. "I can't breathe, I can't be here, Ron, let me go back onto the bus-"
"Marie!"
It was Principal Powers. Her face, drawn with concern, also looked almost angry.
"Marie, what on earth is the matter? Has someone hurt you?" The girl shook her head. The principal pressed on, "Has someone attacked you? Used their powers on you?" Marie shook her head to both questions. "Then what is the problem? Are you having an asthma attack?" She shook her head. "Are you hurt?" Again she shook her head. Her sobs had subsided while she'd been cuddled in Ron's arms, but she was still visibly trembling. "Then you shouldn't disrupt a teachers' meeting simply because you felt the need to give in to a bout of hysterics."
I barely registered the soft whimper that came out of Marie's mouth, or the way Ron's ears began turning bright, furious red. When I opened my mouth, I yelled, "PRINCIPAL POWERS!" My boss gave me a look, and I got control of my power and instead hissed, "Principal Powers! This girl is obviously upset, and you're just going to ridicule her?"
"She has no reason to be upset. She's been held in forced, nearly total seclusion for most of her life, with a minimum of social interaction. This display only proves further to me that her father has much to answer for."
"What do you mean?" I demanded.
"I'm not going to get into it with you, Boomer. I know your history with this girl. Don't go all unprofessional, super protective on me. She'll be fine, she just needs to get used to being in a public school. So back off and get her calmed down. Lunch is almost over and she's next in line for power placement." My boss shoved the two bags that Marie's father had dropped off for her into my hands and turned on her heel.
"But Principal Powers-"
"Do it, Boomer!" She snapped, her heels clicking on the hard gym floor as she walked out. Helplessly, I looked at Ron, who was still holding the listless, wide-eyed Marie.
"Ron... can you get her calm before the bell rings?"
"I think so."
"Then get to it. I need a drink."
"On the job, Boomer?"
"I meant a Gatorade, Wilson!"
O-Girl
Ethan
In the halls of Sky High, right after lunch...
.
People had strange ideas about normal.
Ethan didn't care what normal was. At first, he'd been a complete nerd. He'd worn glasses with coke bottle frames, had the very beginnings of an afro that would have looked good if he'd let it grow out. He'd worn button up shirts in gross out colors and over those, sweater vests that had come in such sickening, eye watering colors that even his fashion-ignorant sisters had said something. High water pants and Michael Jackson shoes with ankle socks. He'd been a total loser. And unlike Arnie, the kid who could turn himself into a super-rock creature, he didn't have an awesome super power that negated all of his pathetical aspects.
Until he met O-Girl.
That wasn't her name, but she hated her name and so he never used it, even though he absolutely adored it. Odile. She had two sisters, Ophelia and Odette. She had a brother, Orpheus. All three of them attended Sky High. Odile didn't have any super powers.
Except the power to create.
Odile was an artist, or had been. Ethan had one of her paintings hung up in his room, a watercolor of a wraith and a demon embracing an inch past the edge of a cliff. She painted. She made clothes. She drew, she sculpted, she composed, she wrote. She did everything. It was like some dark passenger urged her onward, ever and always onward. More, it said. Make more, make more. Create, burn up the world with your creations. She did all kinds of crafty things. She even made jewelry. And it was Odile who had given him a makeover.
Transformation.
He remembered the way she'd breathed the word against his ear, like feathers tickling his skin. Because Odile was the master at transformation. She could go from laughing willow witch to blazing harpy demon to avenging hellion angel in seconds. One day, she glowed like amber in the sun. The next, she was thin and sickly as a corpse. When he was with her, it was like setting himself afire and becoming a great canvas made out of gleaming, silvered glass. He could be anything, reflect anything he wanted. And if he shattered under her power, then it was no matter because she could show him how all his pieces fit together.
She was the one who made him his clothes- his jeans ripped out at the knees and stitched with images from ancient tales and myths and legends. She made him the shirts and sweaters with the pieces he wore like armor against the penetrating, hating eyes of his peers and his enemies.
Odile, the black swan who transformed everyone she touched.
Metamorphosis.
She was a butterfly, fragile and delicate. He was the glass bubble that kept her safe, the crystal globe that shielded her from everything. And when she finally decided to spread her wings, he would be the jagged pieces of shattered glass that cut and slashed and killed those who would do her harm.
And why was Ethan thinking of Odile as he trudged past the gym, yearning to be set free from Sky High?
Because she was walking down the hall toward him, with tears streaming down her face.
Invisible Girl
Violet
Under the bleachers of Sky High's football stadium...
.
Being invisible had some serious advantages. For example, while invisible, a girl could eavesdrop on conversations she otherwise might not be privy to. She might be able to spy on people. She might be able to see just what her friends and her enemies were up. She could cheat on a test- not that she actually would do that one. But she could.
But most importantly, she could escape danger, and scout out danger, without being seen.
Which was exactly what Violet Parr was doing right now.
She was one of four new girls to the school who weren't Freshmen. She only knew one- Summer Jones, a Senior. She was from the Zenith Team. The other two were a complete mystery, and Violet wanted to know more. A lot more. Specifically about the girl Marie Lenaldo. Violet had seen her when she'd first arrived, looking like a dog that had been kicked one too many times for it to be able to stand on its own two feet anymore. And no girl attending Sky High should be looking like that.
So Violet was going to investigate.
Another reason she wanted to know about Marie was because they had something in common- they could both become invisible. Violet had had to focus her power incredibly hard to be able to see the girl once she'd slipped the mask on. Call it a talent- Vi could see people who were invisible because she could turn invisible. She'd figured it out when she'd realized that, even when she was invisible, she could still see herself, even when no one else could see her. Take it a step further- she could see invisible people and things. Good for her.
Not the point.
The point was Marie Lenaldo. Violet was going to go snooping. No one could see her, because, among other things, she'd be ditching class and anyone outside of the friend group she'd established over the summer- Will, Layla, Warren, Ethan, Dylan, Summer, Ice, Zack, and Megenta- would probably rat her out.
Closing her eyes and focusing, feeling the light bouncing off of her skin suddenly ripple and pass through her molecules, she sighed with pleasure. There was absolutely nothing she loved better than becoming invisible. There was nothing like the feeling of freedom, even when she buzzed around on her scooter, even when she threw up force fields, even when she went surfing a rip-killer wave. There was absolutely nothing better than being invisible.
Was it any wonder that she wanted to stay this way, transparent and unseen, all the time? But apparently, her parents couldn't seem to understand how that worked. Couldn't seem to grasp that, with Tony dead and her parents ripping off her head about the only person she really wanted to be with, invisible was exactly how she preferred to be.
Opening her eyes, she headed off in search of whatever she could find out about the girl who could turn herself invisible by putting on a mask. Curiosity may have killed the cat- or got it beaten up by school bullies and/or suspended for ditching- but satisfaction brought it back.
She didn't see Lia Whitney watching her from above through a crack in the bleacher seats.
I Spy
Lia
Atop the bleachers of the Sky High football field...
.
She was going to commit murder.
Okay, no, she was most certainly not going to be committing murder while on Campus. She'd probably get expelled if she did. But that was not the point. Now, not only was Warren talking to that stupid, start-up Sophomore, but someone was getting to be too much of a problem for her to handle. Which meant she'd have to talk to her sisters.
After all, Liz and Lara weren't the only Whitneys who could cause havoc. Lia Whitney, the mild psychic, could cause plenty of hell too.
Like spying on her sisters' enemies for them.
Behind the Mirror
Liz
In a house somewhere below Sky High...
.
How long had she been dead?
How long had she been trapped in the mirror?
She had no idea.
She didn't remember dying, didn't remember exactly what had happened. Her siblings swore it was an accident. She'd frozen to death, trapped beneath a crushing weight of snow. They'd only been playing, her siblings insisted. They hadn't meant to hurt her. Hadn't meant to kill her.
Hadn't meant to.
Done it anyway.
So she was going to get them back.
Her siblings told her it was practically impossible. They'd barely managed to trap her poltergeist in the icy glass. There was no guarantee that trying to transfer her spirit into a different vessel wouldn't just shred her soul on the spot.
Mere words.
She didn't care about risks or dangers. She was already dead. She wanted to be alive again. And she would be.
As soon as she'd tricked Warren Peace into killing all of his friends, and all the other students in Sky High. Once all the new supers were dead, the parents wouldn't have it in them to take her on. Besides, after Warren was finished doing what she wanted, she'd kill him, too. Only one person would survive.
Layla Williams.
Impromptu Masquerade
Marie
In the gym, during hero placement...
.
I couldn't see.
In front of my eyes a crimson haze blurred the world, so that everywhere I looked, there were faceless caricatures from some kind of horror-movie nightmare instead of the students I knew filled the gym. The gaping blackness where their eyes should have been blazed at me, red pinpricks burning in the tenebrous depths. Serpent eyes, cobra hypnosis, fanged ruby laser light show, piercing me all over. Stabbing into me with their contempt, their ridicule, their prejudice. The scarlet haze ate at my tender eyes, even when I clenched them shut. Everything burned vermillion behind my eyelids.
I felt my knees buckle. I locked them so I wouldn't fall from the wooden platform. I wished I would fall- out of sight, out of mind.
Curl up, turtle shell, hide away... I thought. Scream, scream, drown them out. Don't let them know they frighten you. Call for help, call for Daddy, call for Ron, call for your mother if you have to, but just call! Scream for help! Drown out the whispers...
What a marvelous idea. Except if I did that, then Principal Powers would take me away. I'd never see my home again.
The minute I remembered that, the red behind my eyes disappeared. Instead, there was blackness, blindness, nothingness. Bliss. I didn't want to see the hellish red behind and before my gaze. The tears of pain stung my eyes, but I didn't let them fall. I knew they hung from my lashes like diamond drops. Never falling, like tiny jewel icicles. But I wasn't thinking about how I looked.
Somewhere, music had begun playing. I could taste it, honeyed mead inside my head, amber drops and topaz chips glittering in the blindness that had come over my eyes. There was a song, a lullaby, from a long time ago. "Lula-bye," my mother's song from a long time ago. It was playing over the loud speaker. Why would she do that for me? After everything she'd said? After divorcing my father and telling me that she couldn't handle having an autistic, powerless daughter when she was such a powerful super heroine herself?
"Looooooo-laaaaah bye, oh loooooooo-laaaaaah bye..."
I could hear the whispers now, counterpoint to the music playing over the speakers. I could sense their restlessness. I was the last person, and they wanted to know what was taking so long. Why didn't I show them my powers and have done with it? What was my problem? I could taste their irritation, just like I could taste the music.
"You have to go soon, Marie," Boomer whispered so that my classmates couldn't hear him. "We don't have time. You have to do this now."
Boomer. Boomer was always my friend. His voice had always soothed me. It was like a piece of music, lines of poetry etched into my ear drums. It was easier to deal with the people who had poem voices, lyric words. The things they said didn't rip at me like shards of glass. They washed over me like shades of light, burgundy and violet and marine and pine.
Boomer made me remember the blood rushing through my head, the blood flowing into my hands and on into my fingers, to their very tips. Boomer made me remember what had happened the last time I screamed, how much blood there had been then. But that was because I'd been wearing a mask with black feathers and gold sequins and glitter. A canary mask, a butterfly mask covering me and making me powerful, strong. Boomer made me remember how to be strong, how to be a heroine. Boomer made me remember my masks.
So I reached into my leather bag and pulled out the mask I needed. Not the canary mask, or the invisibility inducing mirror mask. Not my seraphim mask or my cinderella mask. This mask was so special, because Antoinette had struggled so hard to make it.
The Butterfly Mask.
Like cerulean feathers or irridescent turqoise petals, something more than that, like the fragile silk wings of a butterfly, stitched to buttersoft black leather. The thin, gossamer ties ended in tiny, silver kanji pendants for the word metamorphosis. When I touched it, my fingers came away silky and glittering with royal blue pollen-powder. I could taste it, like sugar on my tongue, when my tied the mask's ties behind my hair and let it settle over my face.
Everyone gasped.
I flicked my eyes to Boomer, and suddenly I was Boomer. I glanced at my cousin Ron, back in the back of the gym, and suddenly I was Ron. I looked at a boy with blond hair, who'd shown his power as super speed and had said his name was Dash, and I was a kid who could run over 190 mph. I glanced at the boy beside him, a kid named Tucker, and I was a somewhat chubby kid with glasses and scruffy brown hair. I looked at the girl, Violet Parr, one of the incoming upper classmen, and I had a curtain of ebony hair flowing down my back and lavendar eyes. I went back to my original form, then took Boomer's again, and gave a small cry. The sonic blast echoed as it bounced around the room. I became Ron again, only three times bigger. I shifted again, and sped around the room like a thought, quicker than a lightning strike. I shifted again, and was suddenly so fat I nearly knocked Boomer off the stage. When my black hair and violet eyes came back, I shimmered like a heat wave and vanished.
Then I was myself again.
I looked at Boomer, who grinned and cried, "HERO!"
I smiled behind my mask, and grabbed my bag, eager to get off stage and get the heck out of this gym before the nightmare teens from Power Placement returned and cut me to ribbons with their eyes.
Then I saw him, the man from my nightmares.
Ashton Bates.
Burning Butterflies
Warren
In the gym, under the bleachers, during hero placement...
.
I shouldn't have been here. It was dangerous, in a lot of ways. If they found me, I'd probably get suspended. After all, ditching class was a capital offense in Sky High. If they caught you, they'd march you up to the academic stake, tie your hands behind your back so you couldn't escape, douse you with gasolene that tasted of consternation, condescension, and contempt, and then light you up and watch you burn.
And it wasn't like I had a back up plan, a safety net, to keep that from happening to me. I hadn't taken the time to forge a hall pass, or a pass to class from one of the other teachers. I was a master at the art of forgery, a trick I learned from my mom (most people would be surprised). But I'd been too preoccupied during the brief time I had to do anything so intelligent as give my ass a back door out of trouble. I hadn't even attempted to get in a fight, which could've resulted in an allowed black eye- evidence that I'd been attacked, and the unknown results could've involved a bloody nose- another valid excuse for being late and wandering the halls thirty minutes after class had begun.
Instead, I was skulking under the bleachers, fidgeting like a kid with bladder control issues, because I wanted Power Placement to hurry up and get to the last name so I could see her.
I couldn't believe how much I wanted to see her.
But I'd had to sit through the entire Freshman class first, not to mention the three incoming upperclassmen who'd recently moved to Metroville and were therefore zoned for Sky High.
I finally found out the name of that girl who'd been hanging out with Layla and Violet- Summer Jones. Because she was a government employed superhero already, she already had her superhero name: Wonder. She said her team's second-in-command had picked it out for her. I'd wondered before what she could do, besides kick that pathetic, wannabe villain Penny's ass at cheerleading. Now I knew: she was a telekinetic. She lacked control over anything bigger than a single car, though. But at least she'd managed to keep herself from being flattened.
Some fat kid named Tucker Williams, who could expand any part of his body, was the only person to actually cheer Summer on when she caught the car with her powers.
Then there was Violet. It was almost impossible for me to look at her- she was thin, her skin was like wet tissue paper over a razorblade skeleton. Both her parents and her godfather were superheroes, but were they so busy saving the damn world they didn't see what was going on right in front of them?
Violet could make herself invisible. She could also throw up force fields, but the difference in the ease with which she became see-through versus shielding herself showed even the slowest moron that she had self-esteem issues. Didn't anyone notice this kind of thing? Didn't they see how, just because they were supers, didn't mean they were immune to all the crap teenagers went through?
Including starving yourself to make yourself really invisible.
Violet's little brother was in the crowd of kids going through Power Placement, too. He had a name, too, though Violet didn't. Called himself "the Dash." Little freshman kid with superspeed, yay for him. His name was- raise your hand if you're surprised- Dash. Dash Parr.
Violet's parents were Mr. Incredible and Mrs. Incredible- formerly Elastigirl, until she'd married the superhero with super strength.
Sarcastic yay for them.
There was another girl who'd been called up, Odile Van. But when she'd whispered something in Boomer's ear, he'd excused her to go out into the hallway. The other kids had jeered at her, but she'd just walked calmly out of the room. Kudos for not caring about the masses' opinions.
But I didn't care about them! I wanted to know about the invisible girl I'd run into earlier, who'd calmed the flames long enough for me to form a somewhat coherent thought that wasn't edged with hysteria. Where was she?
Then she came up, and I shivered. The fire in me went out. No smoldering embers, no hot pockets waiting to catch fire and burn everything up around me. Nothing. No heat. At least, not the kind of heat that I was used to dealing with. But I couldn't help noticing... things. Things about her I didn't want to be thinking because if I actually stopped and analyzed my thoughts, the fire was going to come back, no matter who or what I was looking at. If I thought about those miles and miles of long, gorgeous leg and that curtain of silver blond hair pouring like a waterfall over her shoulders, I'd be screwed. I was already thinking about how the dark blue of the mask she wore, a mask in the shape of a butterfly with wings outstretched, brought out the gleaming jewel tones of her eyes and made her lush, rosebud mouth stand out against the ivory of her skin.
Heat flared up beneath my skin, tongues of flame lapping at every inch of exposed flesh, begging me to unleash it, feed it and allow it to grow and consume everything. But I beat it back down by thinking about a butterfly, with gleaming blue wings like peacock feathers or sapphires or stars, burning up into soft gray ashes. The flames went out.
Then she saw someone. The new assistant coach. I saw him, too. The smile on his face, tender look in his eyes. For some bizarre reason, jealously punched me in the gut. But it wasn't until the blood drained from her beautiful face that the ice began creeping up my spine and pouring over my hands. Because suddenly, I was coldly enraged. No burning fury, no hot anger.
Ice cold rage.
Big Bad Wolf
Ashton
From the coach's office at Sky High...
.
There you are, my beautiful one. There you are, in that gorgeous scarlet getup that shows what a seductress you are, underneath that sweet innocence you pretend to. Oh, sweet one, with your crimson kimono jacket so brilliantly and bloody red against that ice white skin, with your tight, burgundy shirt, its sleeves designed to hide the scars carved into your skin, with those vermillion and ebony harem pants, like something out of the Arabian nights, showing off those beautiful legs. My lovely one, I've finally found you again.
My princess. I made that promise all those years ago, don't you remember? I swore that your father could never keep me from you. He could never keep us apart. He might have locked you up in that damned ivory tower, but I got to you eventually.
You've only grown more beautiful in my absence. Seeing you standing there, your silvery hair tied up in that rope, I can't help yearning to let it free so it can pour over your shoulders like moon kissed spiderwebs. How long has it been since you dressed up for me? How long has it been since I saw your lips redder than blood red roses against your snow white face? How long since I was your beast, my beauty? It has been too long since I took you into my arms. And not long enough. The time has not been enough to cool my ardour. Never think it possible, Marie. My beautiful Madame Butterfly, my Lady Marmalade, my Parisian courtesan.
You are still so frail, so tiny, so delicate. Will your skin still bruise, darkening from silken white to velvet black when I strike you? Will the blood still stain our sheets like red wine on white marble? Will you cry from sweet pain? It has been too long since I tasted your tears.
Your mother is no match for me, my dear one, never fear it. She never listens to your father. Why do you think she hired me in the first place? Because he begged her not to. She does not trust him. All to our advantage.
Marie... seeing you up there, spreading your shredded butterfly wings, is enough to drive me mad. When you were yet a so-called child, I had thought you the most alluring, seductive woman on earth. I idolized you, worshipped you, yearned and ached and burned for you. You were my lover, my princess. But now... now, you have grown up. Now, you are my soul mate, my queen, my goddess. And I will have you, never fear. No one will stand in my way. You're mine.
You'll always be mine.
Aftermath
Ron Wilson
On the bus ride home...
.
I'll kill him. I'll kill him if it's the last thing I do, Ron vowed as the bus pulled up in front of the Stronghold house. No one does this to my family and gets away with it.
Marie curled up on the bus seat behind Ron, tears coursing down her cheeks. She pressed against the side of the bus. After Power Placement, she'd loosened her hair, letting it fall around her like a curtain. Ron knew that position. She was hiding from something.
Or someone.
Ashton Bates, the bus driver snarled. If he lays a hand on her, I'll break his neck.
"So," he said aloud, trying to sound jovial. "You made it into the hero category during Power Placement. Pretty exciting, Marie!" His hearty, jolly voice sounded forced, and he knew it. She had been excited when Boomer had announced her rank as a hero... until she'd seen the freak of the year. He'd terrified her, shattered what little self-confidence she'd managed to gain during the course of the day.
Damn him to hell forever.
"Marie," Ron said as the last child walked off the bus. The bus driver pulled back onto the street and headed for the Lenaldo Estate. "Marie, your mom and the other teachers won't let anything happen to you, okay?"
"Sure," she said dully. He could tell she didn't believe him. And why should she? Her parents had allowed Bates into their house and done nothing to help her.
"Marie-"
"Let's just go home, okay, Ron?" She asked softly. She turned to stare out the window, at the passing countryside.
"Okay, Marie. Okay."
Oo8oo8oo8oo8oo8oO
So, what do you think? After receiving a couple complaints about chapter composition, I've decided that each chapter will be one day, usually a school day unless something happens over a weekend. Enjoy.