AN: I should so be practicing or writing my English essay…but I can never resist a good challenge.
Guidelines to Lt. Commander Richie's War-War challenge:
1.) Must be at least a LITTLE angsty.
2.) NO Ocs. There are already too many.
3.) Must have proper conclusion, and must be a one-shot.
4.) Can be a songfic, but the song must match the mood. IE: suicide attempt goes with 'How could this happen to me?' by Simple Plan, not 'I'm a Barbie girl'.
5.) NO SLASH!
So, there they are. It might not be angsty enough…I don't know. It might not be angsty at all, actually…hmm…/
The song, by the way, is FM Static's All The Days. The time of the song and time of the story don't really match (it's a couple months off), but the sentiment is the same.
Warren rubbed the bridge of his nose as he packed his bag for the last day of high school, senior year. He placed the dress shoes his mom had forced him to buy in their shoebox and grabbed the garment bag hanging on his bedroom door. He'd secretly bought his black slacks about two sizes bigger than the ones he should have because no one should have to wear pants that high around the waist. Taking the second garment bag, the one with his uncomfortable polyester graduation robe, square hat, tassel, and colored honor-stole-equivalent, he stepped outside and looked around quickly.
Throwing a leg over his brand-new, cherry-red, turbo-powered Suzuki V-strom, Warren secured his helmet and revved the engine. He took off and headed for the spot in the sky where his soon-to-be alma mater was supposed to be that day.
This is the last day of our freshman summer
Textbooks and essays wait around the corner
Saying goodbye now to our best friends
We'll try, if we can, to get home on weekends
Classes were a joke. There was nothing to do, not since grades had already gone in. Most of the teachers allowed yearbook signing and Warren scribbled his name, along with a semi-heartfelt message, in more than a few. He was a little taken aback that so many people wanted his autograph.
In his multi-level classes, Warren zoned out during the day's lecture, not feeling a bit sorry for the underclassmen who still had a week and a half of school left. He wondered, briefly, what city he'd be posted in and what the people were like. He wondered if anyone he knew would be his sidekick.
A pang of loneliness swept over him. He wondered if any of them would be killed before their ten-year reunion. Or who, if any, might turn out to be a villain. A nag in the back of his mind, which he brushed away quickly, wondered if he'd end up like his father.
The bell rang, snapping him out of his reverie. Warren grabbed his bag and headed his locker to stash it until later. He'd opted for staying in school until the grad ceremony instead of going home to shower and change. Mostly he wanted to save gas, but also he wanted the school to himself (or as 'to himself' as it would ever be) before he made the walk.
Stepping through the doors, he seated himself near the bottom of the steps and watched his friends as they got on the bus or went to their cars. He waved at Will and Layla as they soared over the school, heading towards the Stronghold residence.
I gotta run now, go home and take a shower
We all can meet up at your house in half an hour
I can't get ready any faster
We'd better make it quarter after
Twenty minutes later, Warren re-entered the Sky High main corridor. His footsteps echoed off the walls as he remembered.
Their table in the cafeteria had been wiped clean, but a little heat would show the specially-formulated lemon juice that depicted multiple games of tic-tac-toe and a tally sheet for how many times Will had accidentally squashed his milk carton while trying to open it. Warren had to think for a moment before remembering that he'd reached seven hundred forty-two before deciding that milk just wasn't worth it. Will had then switched to twist-top soda bottles which were a little more resistant to his absent-minded strength.
Exiting through the cafe's back door, Warren sighed and looked around. That was the locker he had sophomore year; the one all the others thought it would be hilarious to stuff full of unsigned valentines and watch as he got more and more irritated, burning most of them when he couldn't find his Aerodynamic Physics book. He chuckled wryly, remembering how he'd repaid them: heating all their combination locks just enough so they would pull back, cursing, when trying to get at their belongings.
There was his swimming trophy from junior year. No one had believed him when he said he'd joined the swim team. Not at first. Then he started showing up at lunch smelling like chlorine and, a couple months later, the trophy appeared in the main hall cabinet. "Warren Peace," it read, "State Champion, 400 IM." He'd gloated in his own special way for weeks.
Warren reached his current locker and spun the lock, sighing.
Running through the high school hallways
This is all we've known until now
And I don't ever wanna slow down
Packed up and I'm ready to go now.
Hauling all his clothes out, he made his way to the bathroom, thinking to change before the mad rush of everyone else arrived. Dressing in everything but his robe and hat, Warren looked at himself in the mirror. He wondered if he looked different. He wondered what he'd look like in his hero costume. He wrinkled his nose; he wondered if he'd have to wear spandex.
Shaking his head, Warren shrugged his leather jacket on. He'd have time to put his robe on later. After a moment's hesitation though, he tossed his gloves in the shoebox containing his sneakers. He didn't have anything to hide…not yet.
It was funny, he mused, how he said he wasn't into labels but took such great pains to be seen as a loner, a rebel, some force to be reckoned with. He was and he wasn't. He wondered if he'd retreat back into his shell once his friends were stationed away from him. He wondered if the rumors were true and he was headed for New York.
Now we all meet up and go our own ways
Pro'ly won't see each other the same ways
But no matter what happens we'll never
Forget all the times we've had together
There was much laughing and back-slapping and secret handshake-ing when Warren entered the gym's side corridor. The graduating class was small compared to regular high schools, only thirty-two graduates, but they'd done it, and that was something to be proud of. Warren knew that about two hundred guests were crammed into the gymnasium bleachers; somewhere in that two hundred was his mom, his cousin Bailey, and his grandparents.
Coach Boomer had rounded them up to go through the procedure one last time. Warren rolled his eyes; it was so simple: walk to your seat, sit down, walk up for your diploma/sidekick/name/colors/costume, sit down again, and stand at the end for the class song and alma mater. But, of course, Coach Boomer was Coach Boomer. Warren mentioned this to the girl he was partnered with for the march into the gym and she, too, rolled her eyes before agreeing with him.
The gym door opened. It was time.
Running through the high school hallways
This is all we've known until now
And I don't ever wanna slow down
Packed up and I'm ready to go now.
They marched out to Pomp and Circumstance, taking their seats as Principal Powers ascended the stage and gave her parting speech. She gave mention of the events during their freshman year, saying how far they'd come and how far she expected them to go from here. How the cities they received under their protection would be better places to live, that they would be well-protected by such fine, upstanding individuals.
Ethan ended up valedictorian; not that anyone had expected otherwise. He gave a far better speech that emphasized their individual potential, regardless of power inheritance and familial descent. He finished his speech to a thunderous applause; a few people, not including his family, even gave him a standing ovation.
All the days we've been traveling together
I won't even look over my shoulder
'Till I've found a cure for getting older
Principal Powers began calling the graduates to receive their diplomas. First a hero; then, their corresponding sidekick. Layla, who had been transferred to hero class after freshman year homecoming, was given the name Rosewhip and the colors white, a soft pink, and a deep forest green. Alana, a girl who could communicate with flying insects, was to be her sidekick and given the name Ladybird.
A mirage-artist, Brett, became the gold and white Excalibur and, to his delight, Zach was partnered with him as Searchlight.
Warren's name was called and he ascended the fold-out steps to get to the platform. "Congratulations," said Principal Powers as she handed him his diploma, "Huo Long, the flame dragon." He was presented with a traditional Chinese Tai Chi Kung Fu suit of black silk and matching silk slippers. Embroidered up one pant leg in vermilion was a Chinese dragon erupting into flame. Stitched over his back was the han zi for strength; the thread changed color in the light, seeming to blaze when hit. For once in his life, Warren had nothing at all to say. Prompted to be traditional, he bowed to her, accepting the gift.
He was surprised to hear Magenta's name called after his. She smirked at Warren, taking her place beside him as Zi Wu, the violet mist, in her matching suit embroidered with, what else, violets, and the han zi for stealth.
As they walked back to their seats, an unspoken spark of happiness was formed. Neither of them would encounter what they most feared: the biting loneliness of new places and the inability to cope.
Will and Ethan were also partnered together. Will becoming The Rocket, to the colors red and white, and Ethan The Fuel. Warren smiled wryly at the gimmick, knowing it would tickle Ethan though many others thought it a little banal.
Finally, it was time for the class song. A surge of pride flooded Warren's ego as the opening lines thrummed out of the speakers; he had suggested it on a whim to the student council and, miraculously, it had been selected as the perfect graduation song for all of them.
As he took a deep breath to begin the first verse with the rest of his classmates, Warren wasn't sure how things would end up. If any of them were ready, really ready. He glanced over at Maj, at Layla, at Zach, at Will and Ethan.
Running through the high school hallways
This is all we've known until now
And I don't ever wanna slow down
Packed up and I'm ready to go now
He knew they couldn't ever go back. But, said a little egotistical voice in the back of his mind, you know you don't want to.
All the days we've been traveling together
I won't even look over my shoulder
'Till I've found a cure for getting older
AN: Okay, as a side note, I really, really wanted this to be our graduation song. Sadly, it was not nominated. But I have squeezed it in here. Take that, authority! Haha! I'm sorry if it didn't really fit the guidelines. Stories never end up the way I envision them in my head. They always run away with themselves. Tsk tsk. I need to get them leashes. Anyway, please leave a comment of some sort. Thank you much! I'll be going back into hibernation mode now in preparation for auditions…