Retching out half a lung, throat dry and sore and raspy, what was left of her threadbare clothes thick with sweat and blood, one side cold and the other itchy, she woke up. Coughed and wheezed; rolled over under stiff muscles; dug at the dirt and mud that stained her. Opened up her eyes to a violet thundercloud of a sky.
For a moment, sore throat forgotten, she just stared up, eyes vacantly following swathes of purpled mist. Let her breaths even out as the sky above her boiled. Then, wincing only once, she rose and looked around.
The landscape about her was glass, rising in a natural echo of spires and cavern walls that caught, tore and scattered light from the odd flash up above. The effect made it look like shadows were flowing everywhere, thick and almost corporeal, gathering in the dips and shallows of a pockmarked surface. A clutch of bluish fin-like structures swayed, each to their own rhythm, in a few of the patches she could see. Gloom hid the rest from sight.
Earth Vet in all its beauty.
She moved to stand and froze, black claw resting on black knee, parts glossy and parts chitin, nails a rusty orange that covered half the finger. A moment passed before she brought it to her face. Curled each talon and creased the palm.
'Oh God. They were right,' she thought, the realisation inching towards her as if across some vast distance. 'I've triggered. I'm a cape.'
Black hand clenched into a fist, Taylor Hebert smacked the ground and swore.
"–and time travel just doesn't make any sense at all; like, if Scion could do that then we wouldn't be having any problems, ever, so we can just rule that right out." Greg made a cutting motion with his hand. My smile twitched. "Which just leaves the Simurgh, really. I mean, the Meteor was only seen here in Bet in the first place, and she is right up there in space. Our space, that is. What's to stop her from pulling one towards us then dealing with Scion when she's got him away from everyone? It makes sense."
"Maybe," I responded, "but I don't see what that's got to do with how the end of the Cold War affected the military outlook of the United States."
"Oh come on, Taylor! It's interesting, right? Right?" He leaned over and slapped Sparky on the shoulder. For his turn, Sparky stopped rapping his pencils against the table, flashed us both the peace sign, then went right back to it. Unabated, Greg continued: "And, like, it's kinda related. Scion got rid of all the world's nukes and stuff cos they were a threat to mankind, right? That's exactly what the Meteor was: a threat. The Simurgh probably profiled him or something, knew just what to do to get him up there, then bam!" He slapped the table. "No more Scion."
"Er, Greg? Hey!" Mr. Gladly shot an exasperated look at us from two desks over, the bevy of girls he was 'helping' watching me. Us. Us. "Like we discussed last week, huh?" The bell on his santa hat jingled.
"Sorry, Mr G!" he called back, wide smile and a hand lifted to his cheek. I cringed internally as the girls tittered. "I just got a bit too into talking about… er… I, um… right! Perestroika," – I blinked – "y'know? Won't happen again, I promise!" His attention turned back to me. "So, yeah, Simurgh: she's been weird lately, right? Just floated on over above Madison, hung around a bit and left. Reason: she's already hit us, and taking out Scion was that hit. I should show you my timeline at some point – it is so much clearer then."
"Look, Greg. It is interesting, you're right, it's just… I've worked really hard on this." Was that too nerdy? Did I come across as a dork? Needed to make a decent impression, here. "And I want to get a good mark in World Issues. You seem like you know your stuff. Kinda. Somehow. Can't we talk about that?"
As Greg opened his mouth, the look in his eyes in no way someone excited to talk about the Cold War, and Sparky kept on a rat-a-tat-tating out his own little beat, I decided to just throw it in. "We could talk about it after if you like? The Scion stuff, at lunch? You could, erm, show me that timeline?"
"I… um… well, you see I haven't, y'know, aha –"
"Girl, not even he's that crazy," Sparky interrupted.
"No! No, it's not that, it's...erm…"
Greg flapped his hands as if trying to snatch excuses out of the air. He really was a terrible liar.
"It's fine," I cut in, pointedly not glaring at Sparky's little smirk. "Let's… let's just get on with the lesson. Ok."
I let him babble on for the rest of the class without really putting in the effort to respond. What was the point? I'd hit what should be rock bottom only for the people there to tell me I've got further yet to go. Might as well get used to being alone.
"Smooth," some girl whispered at me as the class broke up and left. She was gone before I could see her face, but not before I could see the group she walked with, hear the giggling. Hunched over, I left for lunch.
The hallways were packed, clogged up with groups of teenagers and cluttered at the sides by people making conversation. It was hard to navigate through, even for someone as rake-like as me, openings popping in and out sporadically. Eventually, however, I made it to my locker and bought myself a few minutes of peace.
I fiddled with my things while I thought through which groups were left. Shuffled a few of the books and made just enough noise that it wouldn't seem weird. The unpalatable answer was 'not many' – the entire sports wing was out, company aside, given how unathletic I was; book club was an early day mess after I inadvertently insulted the organiser's taste; drama was full of meth heads, cooking was the ABB's and the Nazi's owned politics; my computer couldn't handle much, so most of the nerd stuff was out, and the nerds' nerds just told me to take a hike. What was left was photography – no camera – and the charities.
Or I could try approaching some of my classmates again.
My stomach roiled sideways as I followed the thought through. I could do that. I could be a happy Icarus, strap my wings on and try again, just keep trying and trying. Not give up. Or I could call today quits, find that bathroom on the second floor and just not deal with people for a while. I wasn't giving up entirely, not really: just for today. Try again after the holidays: new year, new me.
One more day in which the friendship groups already forming would calcify and coalesce; one more day to let all the sludge thrown up by the rumour-mill sink into the collective truth. I throttled a sigh as I realised what I was going to do, what I had to do before winter break made it all immutable. Humiliation, woo.
"Seriously. It's been over five minutes, now – how many drugs does she need to stuff her fat face with anyway? She's so weird."
Ah.
I took too long.
"Maybe she's on chemo? Nobody could be that scrawny naturally."
A half-glance back found four girls on the opposite row of lockers. A few other hangers-on skulked about, not joining in but not moving on either, tight little smiles and disgust in their eyes. A month ago, they'd looked away when our gazes met. Not so much anymore.
"Pfft, please. She'd be mining it for sympathy points. Bet it's coke."
"You don't eat cocaine."
"Does she look smart enough to know that?"
The locker didn't even slam when I closed it, instead giving me a dull squelch of a thud to storm off to. My current life in a nutshell.
A bubble of space had opened up, enough time having passed that everyone normal had either made it to lunch or was heading there. I pushed off to join them, only for Sophia to step into my way, arms folded and with this annoyingly calm and placid look on her face, like she hadn't just blocked me for no reason.
I took a step to the right; she followed. Left was echoed too, like a dance. The snide talk behind me changed to laughter as I was stalled each time. I thought about trying to side-step, trick her, but gave up on the idea quickly: I'm fairly sure she wouldn't fall for anything I could pull off. Easier to just turn back and go all the way round: she couldn't be both in front of me and behind me, right?
I caught sight of Emma as I turned. She was leant against a locker, head angled down as if studying the floor or bored out of her mind. I'd have bought it if it weren't for her eyes – they were glued to me, flared so that the sclera seemed unnaturally large. Her lips twitched up as she caught me looking, the smallest frown on face. It still stung.
"Hey!" Sophia apparently wasn't willing to let this end. She didn't lunge at me – that would be too much effort, something I'd been told more than once I wasn't worth – but she was quick, far faster than you'd think. I hadn't even made it halfway out before her hand was stretched towards me.
Her arm spasmed just before she managed to grab hold, jerking like it had been caught on wire. It surprised me enough to stop, gaze darting up from her arm to a wide-eyed Sophia.
"That... Her hair touched me," Sophia muttered. She half-shook her head, black hair whipping round. "I… It was so damned greasy, I pulled back without thinking." Her voice crescendoed back to normal. "Jeez, Hebert, you ever head of shampoo? That's fucking disgusting."
Her other hand kept stroking her arm, idly, as if she couldn't stop. "You know what?" she continued, "If you can't have the decency to wash yourself before coming into school, you should get it all cut off. Look less like a mop that way, too. Yeah." She jerked her head up like a backwards nod. "Someone get me some scissors."
"W-what?" I tried to step back but Sophia caught me, properly this time. "That's… You can't do that?" One of the girls – not the hangers on, who were firing looks at each other, but the inner circle – swung her backpack off and started rummaging inside it.
"Let go!" I tugged hard, but it didn't free me from the bear trap of Sophia's grip, only made her eyes settle back on me, gaze seeming to jump around, never settling on one place for long. "Seriously, this isn't funny, let me go!"
"It's kinda funny for me." She flashed a grin with too many teeth. "Shoulda kept better care of your hair, huh?" Her hand came back into view with scissors in it. Panicked, my free hand shot out, whether to slap, push, hit her, I didn't know, but it didn't matter – she caught my wrist anyway, the scissors biting even through my hoody's sleeve.
"Rude. I'm trying to do you a favour here, Hebert, so just –" She pushed without letting go, and my back clanged into a locker, lock jabbing into my side "– settle down."
"Look, this is insane. You can't think you'll get away with this." My tongue flitted out fast, wetting my lips. "People will know what happened. There's… there'll be evidence, not just hearsay, this time, you hear me? You won't get away with this!"
"You don't want your hair cut? Seriously?" Someone, screw them, laughed. "Well, you need it." She pulled me down till our eyes were level, then leaned in, forehead to forehead. I looked down. "Don't struggle too much and it might even be pretty, huh? Might even want to pay me for it at the end."
My arm clanged into the locker as she threw it down, freeing her hand to bunch up into my hair. She let the other go more gently, lifting the scissors up to snip once, twice before my nose, sharp as the smile cutting into her cheeks. My fingers rolled up into my palm, nails digging in.
I couldn't figure out what to do with my thumb. Tuck it in, jut it out? It was stupid, not something I should really be focusing on, not something worth bothering about because I was probably going to screw it up anyway, but I wished I knew more about how to fight, how to even form a punch. But I hadn't, and there was nothing left to do now but regret it.
Slowly, I let the tension leak out of my fist. What was the use: I'd screw it up anyway. It was just hair in the end. Maybe, finally, they'd at least take me seriously this time around.
"Soph? Don't you think this is a bit public?" Emma, arms folded, had decided to interject. "I'm not saying don't cut her hair off, but…" She started twirling a lock of red hair between her fingers, still short from when she'd changed entirely.
"Relax, I'm not going to cut it all off." She didn't even turn away from me. Loomed, somehow, our relative heights be damned. "Just enough."
"We're in the middle of the hallway. What if a teacher comes?"
"Like they'll do anything," Sophia scoffed, and Emma paused with the twirling, tugged at the strand, then carried on, still not meeting my eyes. "Nobody gives a shit about Hebert. Hell, she doesn't either. Not even bothering to speak now, are you?" My fingernails drilled back up into my flesh. "Weak little coward."
"Whatever. Fine. Just don't take too long, ok?"
Sophia frowned abruptly, bringing my eyes back to hers before I pulled them downwards and away. She huffed, quiet enough that I couldn't hear it, but close enough that I could feel the warmth on my skin, smell the mint. It struck me, stupidly, as unfair that her breath didn't stink.
"Emma?" She didn't react to her name: just kept on twirling the strand. Sophia's hold on my hair tightened, enough that I almost gasped, before releasing me entirely. My head rocked back as she turned.
"Am I boring you?"
"What?" Now Emma looked up, hair strand abandoned. "No, Soph, of course you're not, it's just that..."
She stopped. Paused for words. I could only see the back of Sophia, not only seemingly taller than I knew she actually was, but broader too. For a moment, I wondered if I should take this chance to shove her and take off. Get some pay back, somehow. I might not know much about fighting, but I should be able to figure out how to sucker punch or something.
"Fine then."
Sophia left before I got the chance to, striding off abruptly without ever once looking back. Slowly, in dribs and drabs, the others followed after her – Emma first of all. The hallway emptied out, leaving me alone. The tension that had built up and up inside me didn't find release; it wound down uncertainly.
I straightened up, back twinging as I do so, stretched once and then hunched over. My glasses had slipped down to an awkward angle, so I pushed them back and put the world into its proper focus. I took a few deep breaths and tried not to think about what just almost happened. And I failed.
'It's good that I didn't hit her,' I told myself as I walked through the hallway to the lunch room. 'I'm not a violent person. I mean, yeah, sure, sometimes you have to hit bad people, but that doesn't make it ok. It's not like it would've done anything, anyway. I mean, look at me: I'm fine. It was the right decision. Everything turned out ok in the end.'
I paused by the stairs to the second floor. Loitered. Kicked my heels and fidgeted with my fingers.
'It was the right decision,' I told myself. 'It really was.'
I took the steps up one at a time, silence above and uproar below, and as I whispered in my head, 'It's only just for today,' I tried my hardest to believe it.
A\N: I'm expecting zero eyes on this thing, so if you're reading this, er, good job on proving me wrong. Mainly just posting it here piecemeal so I can get it out of GDocs as well as my head. Flames appreciated more than compliments: some twisted part of me gets more motivated by a desire to prove people wrong than by giving them story to read.