M!na does not own Sky High. She only owns the character Marissa Bruttenholm and herself.
Pairings: Mainly LashOC and WarrenOC, with some hints of WillLayla, ZackMagenta, and EthanOC
Author's Note: The story is pretty boring at the start(at least in my opinion). It's mostly adventure and humor, but a lot of romance is thrown in as the story continues. Thus, is is placed as adventure and romance. And it has been rated M due to future content. So... yeah.
Prologue
I died once.
And no, not emotionally or anything like that. No, I literally died. I was a freshman at Sky High, a school where the kids of super heroes went, or for kids with powers.
They have this stupid 'Hero and Hero Support' placement thing, and I was stuck in sidekick because my power was 'stupid' as phrased by Coach Boomer.
And if you have ever known anything about Sky High, you will have heard of Lash Livingston and Speed Markam. Lash and Speed aren't their real names, but it's the only thing anyone knows them by. Heck, I think the teachers don't even remember their real names.
And you would know that tormenting 'sidekicks' is their favorite pastime. Unfortunately, as freshman, they couldn't exactly torment upper classmen. And for some reason, they saw me as an easy target.
I was shy, and I rarely spoke. I always walked quickly and kind of hunched, as if bracing myself for some blow. Good idea, because there was always an unexpected blow. Usually to my face or my legs.
For the first few weeks my parents and older brother noticed the bruises. However, I would always insist that I was just clumsy, and that the halls were more crowded then one would expect. Of course, when I started walking through the front door with a black eye on occasion, they became even more worried. But still, I insisted that everything was alright.
Lash and Speed did not discriminate on gender. They would shove me against lockers, shove me in lockers, they would dump the throw-up sand from the janitor's closet on my head, they would make fun of my frizzy blonde hair, my braces, my glasses with bifocals(look it up), and my 'chunky' body. They would do everything in their power to make me miserable. But those two jerks loved nothing more than to see me in physical pain.
They would call me out in Save The Citizen, Sky High's favorite sport, and they would just beat me mercilessly, because I had a power that couldn't be used as an offensive. Heck, I couldn't even use it as a defense. But one day, they took it to far.
I dodged a punch from Lash, which connected with my shoulder and dislocated it.
I popped it back into place, tears still in my eyes.
Immediately after that, Speed ran past and knocked me off of my feet. My fall was pretty nasty; it broke my ankle. In a desperate move, I tried to make a run for the citizen, but Lash wrapped his arms around me like a boa constrictor and threw me into a wall. The blow snapped my neck.
Not 'broke', snapped.
You know in some movies when one character grabs another character's head and then twists it, and it kills them instantly? That's what happened when my head hit that wall.
The last thing I saw was the timer at the top of the gym that counted up to 7:39.
Next thing I knew, I was floating in this dark, empty space. I was scared, and lonely, and every part of my body hurt. I was cold, and I heard sobs of despair around me; I'm pretty sure it was mine. I was folded into the fetal position, with tears running down my eyes and my entire body shivering with fear, cold, and pain.
But then I heard her voice. The voice of my best friend. Marissa. Marissa Bruttenholm. Marissa Elizabeth Bruttenholm. I don't know what she said, but as I heard her voice, I felt a small pushing at my back. Next thing I knew, I felt like I had been sucked into a vortex of light.
I saw a gym timer that read 3:03.
I was crying like a newborn baby when I realized that I was laying in the arms of my best friend, and we were still in the school gym. I lunged forward and locked my arms around her, clutching onto her as if I would be sucked into that dark, cold, lonely abyss if I let go. She held onto me the same way.
Later, as I sat in a hospital bedroom with Marissa, my parents and brother, and two government agents, something replayed in my mind over and over again:
When I died, the timer said 7:39. When I was revived, the timer read 3:03. From seven minutes and thirty-nine seconds to three minutes and three seconds, I had been dead.
I had been dead for exactly four minutes and thirty-six seconds.