Hope you like it, I revised a little.
Disclaimer: I do not own Sky High...or Warren Peace. Most unfortunately...
Warren walked up the steps to the front door of his house. Dreading what he knew he would find in there. She's going to kill me, he thought as he unlocked the door slowly and opened it. Poking his head around the door to see inside, he saw that the hallway leading to his room was empty. Seeing his chance, he slipped in the door and shut it softly, hoping not to be overheard. After locking it, he turned and began walking quietly to his room. He got halfway down the hall when suddenly his mom seemed to materialize out of nowhere in front of him.
"Just where do you think you're going?" His mom asked him. She was an inch shorter than Warren, had a bit lighter skin and black hair. Her hands were resting on her hips and her shoe clad foot tapped impatiently. The look her eyes held told Warren that he was screwed.
In the brief second it took before his mom started yelling, he glanced longingly at his bedroom door which happened to be only about five feet from where he was now standing. Dammit! I was so close.
"I just got off the phone with Principal Powers. She said you got in a fight during lunch today, and with the Commander's son no less! What were you thinking? What could the poor boy have possibly done for you to try to burn him?" She huffed and rubbed the bridge between her eyes agitatedly.
Warren sighed, She never holds anything against anyone. "Mom, he was talking about dad." He said, trying unsuccessfully to explain himself. She can't be mad at me for defending him!
"Oh he did, did he? Or did he mention him and you overreacted...like you always seem to do." She sighed exasperatedly. Taking a deep breathe and she calmly said, "Listen Warren, you can't fight everyone who says anything at all about your father. You've been doing it for years now, and since you started Sky High its only gotten worse." He was about to speak but she held her hand up so she could continue. "I know you don't like what people say about him, but you can't let them get to you. They know that it bothers you when a word is said about him, why do you think it keeps happening?" She smiled a tired smile and began walking towards the living room motioning for Warren to follow her. He followed her unwillingly.
Once in the living room his mom sat down on the worn, old couch and patted the place beside her for Warren to sit down. His mom sighed and looked off at the picture hanging on the wall of her, Warren and Baron Battle, before he was arrested. She smiled at the six year old Warren, squashed between a younger version of herself and a man who looked much like Warren did now, only older and with curly hair. The Warren in the picture was looking like he was trying not to laugh at something his father had said right before the picture was taken.
She looked back at Warren and saw him looking at the same picture, she cleared her throat and brought his eyes back to hers. "Warren, I've debated on weather to do this for awhile now, and today just decided it for me. You have anger issues. Shh..." She covered her son's mouth as he was about to protest. "Please let me finish." She sighed heavily and continued. "You do honey, and I don't want you getting into anymore fights at school. It's only the second week of school and you've already destroyed the cafeteria. So, i'm scheduling you for a few sessions with a counselor that's trained to help you deal with stuff like this." She waved her hand around helplessly. " I know you don't want to, but please try." She had taken his hands in hers now and was looking at him with her brown eyes.
Warren just nodded, not really sure what to say. What she had just told him hadn't sunk in yet. His mom smiled, stood up, kissed him on his forehead and walked out of the room. He watched her walk out of the room. After a few more seconds of his mind processing what had just happened, he inwardly yelled, She's putting me in anger management! The logical part of his mind told him that it might actually help him, and it would make his mom happy. But he wasn't really listening to that part of his mind.
He got up, stomped to his room and slammed the door. He threw his bag, that he was still holding, on the bed and turned his music up loud enough for it shake the walls. He screamed in frustration. His arms automatically lit on fire, and he threw three fire balls at the flame resistant wall. He then fed the flames all of his anger, and they grew. The flames licked their way up his arms until they covered his whole arm. He threw whatever his hands came in contact with and burnt most of it. Objects and flames were being launched around the room, his bookshelf broke due to the intense heat melting the nails. The music was slowing down since he was standing to close to his small stereo and he was unintentionally melting the CD. Somewhere in his mind he knew he was overreacting, but he still wasn't in the mood to listen.
He continued burning and throwing things for several more minutes. The flames finally died on his arms his energy was almost completely gone. He was trembling slightly from overexertion and he felt like he could sleep for ages. He stumbled over the burnt debris now littering his floor and unplugged his now useless stereo. He sat down on his bed and stared dejectedly at the burn mark on his floor. "I don't have an anger problem." He denied halfheartedly. He glanced once more around his smoke filled room, and not even being able to think because he was so tired, he fell back on his bed and promptly fell asleep.
His mom, who had been standing outside his door for the past several minutes, shook her head amused. "Stubborn boy, he's going to have to go without music and a bookshelf for a little while." She smiled slightly as she glanced at the door before walking away, "Goodnight Warren."
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