Disclaimer: Not mine
Author Notes at the end.
American Soldiers
By Katcin Lee
Chapter One
****
The world is screaming.
Bodies everywhere and the dust swirls, choking your sand-papered throat. Run. Fast. Fast, fast, fast fast fastfastfast-
Standing in the distance, a black-haired girl in red, scowling through the blood, sparking as she spins around.
"Where's the Princess?"
Voices everywhere, shouts and commands, desperate urgency, a siren starts shrieking. Standing, face to face, a world of pain in violet eyes.
where's the princess?
"Seventh Battalion is down!" "Gates holding. Control Tower rerouting Third and Fourth to the gardens." A cool voice over the radio, as welcome as a sip of water. "Queen ready for evacuation, no sign of the princess."
Where's the Princess?
The sound of the world cracking and a fountain of fire in the distance. Part of your soul sliced away. A whisper beside you "Anamercury..." "The control tower's down! We've lost the gates!"
WHERE'S THE PRINCESS?
this is the way the world en
****
Lita launched out of the bed, her hands clenched in fists. She gasped for air, glancing around frantically. White lace curtains stirred against the pale yellow walls as a breeze whispered into the room. Outside, she could hear birds and the sound of sprinklers.
A minute passed by. Lita took a deep breath, trying to relax her muscles. Slowly, she uncurled her fingers. In each palm were five red marks, like crescent moons, and Lita blinked as tears welled up in her eyes.
"What the hell is wrong with me?" she growled quietly, wiping at her eyes with her hand. "Like I don't have enough shit to deal with already." She drew in a long shuddering breath, feeling the knowledge of her messed-up life descend on her shoulders. Already the dream was fading, leaving behind nothing but the sense of pain, loss, and fear. Lita shook her head, knowing from experience the feelings would fade. "Too fucking old for nightmares," she muttered, bending down to peer at the bedside clock, only to jump at the sound of a knock.
"Lita? Are you awake?" The voice was muffled by the door, but Lita recognized it as her new foster-mother after a second.
"Yeah," she called back, swallowing to clear her throat. "I'm up." She wondered apprehensively if the woman would open the door. Just her luck if this family was one of those that didn't respect privacy.
The door stayed shut. "Breakfast is ready downstairs. Your ride to school should be here in about 45 minutes. Is that enough time?"
"Um, yeah. Yeah, that's cool. I'll just take a shower first, if that's okay?"
"That's fine, dear. There should be shampoo and conditioner in your bathroom already, but if you need something just check the bathroom in the master bedroom down the hall. Do you remember where that is?"
"Uh, sure," Lita said, remembering what seemed like endless hallways and millions of doors. "No problem. Um, I'll be down in a bit."
"All right. If you need anything, just use the intercom." The voice faded out as the woman went down the hall. Lita looked blankly around the room. There was an intercom?
Deciding she'd search for the intercom later, Lita walked over to the attached bathroom and slumped against the sink. The bathroom was decorated with a nautical theme. The crisp white walls were decorated with blue stencils of sailing ships. The handles and faucets of the sink were a warm gold color. Everything was frighteningly clean - no toothpaste dribbles, smudgy mirror, or bathtub ring in this house. Lita stared at the mirror and grimaced at her reflection. Her short pink hair stood up in spikes like a half-mowed lawn and clashed with her blood-shot green eyes. Her boobs were practically falling out of the ratty wife-beater she slept in and she hadn't shaved her legs for a few days. She looked as out of place in the bathroom as a cockroach in vanilla pudding. She narrowed her eyes and turned her body sideways. Had her butt always been that big? Turning away from the mirror in disgust, she peeled off her clothes and stepped into the shower, turning the water as hot as it would go.
It was nice to take a shower without having other people in the room or banging on the doors and complaining that she was using all the hot water. And having clean, fluffy, BIG towels was something she could definitely get used to. Lita toweled her hair dry and luxuriated in the feel of a towel that covered her from breast to thigh. To bad she hadn't had these at the group home.
Her mood soured at the thought of her former residence. She didn't want to think about it. She really didn't want to think about any of it, about her friends, about her enemies, about Kayla kissing her boyfriend, about the sound of Mark's nose crunching against her fist... Throwing down the towel, Lita marched over to her suitcase to get dressed. Grabbing the first clean things that came to hand, she shoved on some jean shorts and a black tank-top that had 'devil girl' emblazoned on the front in silver. Rummaging around in her makeup bag, she pulled out some black mascara and eye-liner. The bruise on her cheek was a little puffy, but it wasn't bad enough for concealer.
It made her so fucking mad. Mark was the asshole at fault, but she was the one who ended up at the police station in front of a judge. Lita's hand slowed and she stared down at the mascara. And now she was here.
Lita still wasn't quite sure what had happened. The fight was all a jumble in her head of screams and punches. They'd finally locked her in the so-called "safe" room while they waited for the cops. She could remember being dragged down to the police station, her arms hand-cuffed behind her back. The cops had plunked her down on a metal bench to wait for her social worker, while they whispered words like 'unmanageable,' 'bad influence,' and 'disruptive element.'
And then things went-weird. Her social worker hadn't shown up. The Judge had scowled, barked at the police officers, and scowled some more. She remembered sitting there, feeling the anger slowly drain away and wondering if Mr. Herrera had told them to just leave her there. The bench was hard, and she'd kept shifting, trying to find a comfortable spot. Every time she moved, one of the cops would frown at her until she was still again. Finally, when she was ready to scream, a woman had walked up and introduced herself as Lita's new social worker, Ms. Myer.
Things started moving after that. Lita had no idea who her new social worker was, but she apparently believed in getting things done fast. Lita found herself sitting in a comfortable chair with Ms. Myer explaining to her that the judge had agreed to settling Lita with a new foster-family, with the understanding that this was her last chance. Ms. Myer had paused then and studied the girl in front of her carefully. The woman's eyes looked almost red under the flourescent lights.
"I can't get you to agree with this, Lita," Ms. Myers said. "But I hope that you will take this opportunity. The choice is up to you."
Lita had agreed. Anything was better than Juvie.
Lita gave her head a little shake, closing the mascara. Of course, Ms. Myer hadn't mentioned that the foster-family lived in the Heights or had a house bigger than her last school. Most of the families she'd lived with before had been in foster-care for the money. That obviously wasn't the reason here. So why'd they do it? Shrugging aside the question, Lita pursed her lips, outlining them in a bright pink that matched her hair. She'd find out their motives soon enough. All things considered, she was luckier than any state-brat had a right to be. Grabbing her old backpack, she opened the door and strode down the hall.
Lita dawdled on the stairs, trying to remember the names of her new foster family. Last name was Parson, she was pretty sure. A dad, a mom, one girl-it was like something out of a sitcom. She paused at the doorway of the kitchen and wrinkled her nose at the smell.
"Mom, the toast is burning!" The daughter sat at the kitchen table, a half-eaten grapefruit and a bagel in front of her. Lita flicked her eyes over the girl, noting the pressed white blouse, khaki capris, and wavy red-brown hair half pulled back. Definite preppy, she thought dismissively. The girl turned her head and looked straight at Lita. There was a pause as the two girls surveyed each other. The preppy was the first to speak. "Hello," she said coolly.
Lita raised her chin a bit at the implied challenge. "Hey," she paused, ransacking her brain for the girl's name; "Molly," she remembered. The girl, Molly, looked at her for another moment, her head cocked to one side.
"Lita, you're up!" Mrs. Parson came bustling in from the dining room. "I'm so sorry Jim isn't here, he has to do quite a lot of work at the store before we open. What would you like to eat? I hardly ever make breakfast, but I wanted to do something special..." At that point, she noticed the toaster, which was smoking quite heavily. Lita slung her backpack from her shoulder and sat down at the table as her foster-mother proceeded to try and salvage her toast.
"Would you like a bagel?" Molly offered. Lita glanced at the girl. The preppy looked back at her calmly with a hint of wariness in her eyes. Lita felt a corner of her mouth twitch up in response. She'd been in homes where the foster kids were considered the enemy by the 'real' kids. Molly apparently wasn't ready to welcome her with open arms, but that was okay: Lita didn't really go for the whole 'sister' thing herself.
"Sure," Lita replied.
Molly nodded and handed over an untouched half. She gestured toward a tub of cream cheese. "This is raspberry flavored, but I think we have original in the fridge."
"Honestly!" Mrs. Parson had succeeded in shaking out the blackened pieces of bread from the toaster. She threw up the kitchen window, fanning her hands at the remaining smoke. "And this was supposed to be such a good toaster. You can be sure it will be going back to the store right away! How do they get away with selling this, this junk?"
Molly leaned over to Lita and whispered, "This is our fifth toaster in the month. I'm hoping Mom will either get off the homemaking kick, or figure out that she's the problem, not the toasters." She rolled her eyes as Lita choked back a snort of laughter. So maybe the girl wasn't quite as cookie-dough cutter as she'd thought. Molly's expression changed and her eyes flicked over Lita again. "Hey, Lita, do you have anything else to wear?"
Lita's eyes went hard and flat. Then again... "What's wrong with my clothes?" she snapped.
Molly didn't react to the bite in Lita's voice. "Our school has a dress code," she explained. "No shorts, no sleeveless shirts, no jeans."
Lita's hostility drained away as quick as it had come. She glanced down at her shorts and tank-top. "Oh," she said, feeling a little foolish. "Um, what can we wear?"
"White shirts with collars, including polos, khaki or black pants, or skirts that are at least knee-length." Lita looked at Molly with disbelief, who simply shrugged. "It's some kind of policy to avoid gang-stuff and to promote equality between the students."
"Shit," Lita muttered, glancing down at her clothes again. She knew she was blushing. "All I've got are jeans and t-shirts."
Molly bit her lip. "Mom!" she yelled. Lita stared down at her bagel and tried to recapture that feeling of power and opportunity she had felt earlier. So much for this 'brand new start.' she thought fiercely. You can take the girl out of the ghetto, but you can't take the ghetto out of the girl.
"What is it?" Mrs. Parson called back.
"Lita doesn't have any clothes to wear to school!"
"Oh no!" Mrs. Parson stepped back into the kitchen, her face filled with dismay. "Lita, I didn't even think... What with all the paperwork... There was so much to be done and I was so pleased that we were able to get your records accepted by the school at such short notice... Molly, I don't suppose you could loan Lita anything?"
Lita and Molly found themselves looking at each other with twin looks of disbelief. "We're not exactly the same size, Mom," Molly said sarcastically.
"Oh, of course, that's true, I wasn't thinking..." Mrs. Parson trailed off again. Lita wondered if the woman ever finished a sentence. A horn beeped outside.
"Crap," Molly exclaimed, standing up in a rush. "Niko's here. Mom, if we're going to school, we have to leave now. I need to go brush my teeth. Can't you just write Lita a note or something? She doesn't have time to change anyways." She darted off to the downstairs bathroom.
"Hmmmmm," Mrs. Parson considered. "Well, I guess that's what we'll have to do. Now let me just find some paper..."
Lita stared at her half-consumed bagel. Briefly, she imagined standing up and running out of the room, down the street, finding a bus... Darien would put her up for a few days and she could lie about her age and get a job, find an apartment, find a place to belong... God knew the state would probably be glad to be rid of her. Ms. Meyer's cool stare popped into her mind and she frowned. Since when did she care what her social worker thought?
"All right." A small piece of paper covered with neat cursive handwriting was put on the table in front of her. Mrs. Parson continued briskly, "I've written a note, explaining the circumstances. As it's just for one day, I don't think it will be much of a problem. And I'll come pick you up after school and we can go shopping. How does that sound?"
Lita smiled weakly, and pushed away from the table, sliding her backpack on one shoulder. Molly came rushing in again. "Mom, have you seen my sunglasses?"
Her mother sighed with exasperation. "Honestly, Molly, if you'd just be a little more careful..."
"Never mind, we've got to go. Ready, Lita?" Molly kissed her mother on the cheek and then bounded towards the front door. Lita gave a half-wave and followed quickly.
Stepping outside, she blinked. Pulled up in front of the house was one of the ugliest cars she'd ever seen. An old two-door VW Bug painted in puke green with the doors standing out in a decaying orange. Lita looked up at the house she'd just come from. White pillars framed the entranceway in the most elegant of plantation styles. She stared back at the Bug. Looking at that car in this neighborhood was like finding a sourball at the center of a chocolate.
Molly opened the door and smiled at the driver. "Lita, you don't mind the back seat do you?" she called over her shoulder.
Lita walked slowly down the front path. Molly pulled at a lever and bent the seat forward, leaving a slice of space for Lita to wiggle through. The taller girl tossed her bag in first, then ducked into the car.
What the interior lacked in ugliness, it made up for in clutter. The floor was covered with flyers for different bands, and a huge cardboard box took up most of the back seat. Lita squirmed into a corner, tucking her knees to the side to avoid being hit by the front seat. The curve of the roof kept her from sitting straight up. She gritted her teeth to keep from swearing with frustration.
Molly threw the front seat upright and climbed into the car. "Are you excited to be getting back to school, Niko?" she asked.
"Want to introduce my passenger first?"an amused male voice inquired.
"Oh, I'm such an idiot. Niko, this is Lita. She's," for a split-second Molly faltered, "staying with my family."
Not a bad save, Lita thought cynically. Hard to explain that your family's suddenly decided to take in a foster kid who was destined for Juvie.
"Lita," Molly continued, "This is Niko. He's a senior at our school. He lives just about a block away and our families have been friends for forever, so he's nice about giving me a ride so I don't have to take the bus." Lita looked up and saw Niko looking at her from the rear-view mirror. He wore small round sunglasses that hid his eyes from view, but she liked the shape of his face. His head was shaved, with just the barest fuzz on the top. Lita wondered idly if it was as soft as it looked.
"Pleased to meet you," he said, the barest of smiles on his face. His voice made her think of honey being poured out of a cup and she felt the back of her arms prickle. She nodded briefly, before looking at the window.
The car rumbled noisily, then pulled away from the curb with a jerk. In the front, Molly began chattering about all the people she wanted to see. Lita pulled her bag up to her lap, and folded her arms on top, watching the stately houses slide past.
Author Notes:
Greetings all! Welcome to my AU. This is not a story about original characters. The focus here is on the senshi, or at least versions of them. I've tried to adapt the senshi to their new surroundings while still keeping the core characteristics the same. I'd love to know your opinion on how I'm doing grin. Any encouragement would be warmly received (I could definitely use it!).
Warm thanks to my beta-readers, Lady Fenix and Waterlilly.
Email me at Katmarie@cmbfamily.org
May 3, 2002