Ch 2: My Disastrous Life

It was times like these when Andy knew she was an interesting person.

The girl knew who she was. She was an outgoing, charismatic, and intellectual person with a large portion of sarcasm and dry humor. She had to admit that she had a gnarled side. A trouble magnet was super glued to her fists. Despite that, Andy moved through her school days with a goofy smile and an attitude, though her afternoons always seemed to be a little more negative. She believed meeting new people was always a good thing and never let a chance go by on greeting a new student at her school—even if those confrontations meant something bad would happen to her later. So maybe she wasn't eager to meet new people. Maybe she was eager to piss the new kid's new friends off. The offside to it all was that Andy's witticisms and "friendliness" didn't always attract good thoughts.

It was on that basis that I found myself in the middle of the school soccer field, touching my lip gently. "That's blood, bitch," I thrust my crimson fingertips toward a furious, tan girl. "Blood."

"Yeah, it is, idiot. And you're about to see a lot more," Selena growled and lunged for me, Andromeda Opal Ryder.

A. O. Ryder was a well built girl with toned muscles from sports and constant workout. She wasn't exactly quick on her feet, but discus training kicked in at that moment and pivoted her body to the side. Selena went flying past but regained her ground quickly.

"Fight! Fight! Fight!" Selena's gang shouted, eyes wide in fury.

Get 'em, Andy! We can beat this bit—

Just shut up already.

I knew the situation was bad, I knew it all too well. Selena's four friends would gang up on me and the fight would crumble quickly for me, the troublesome Ryder. So I acted quickly and grabbed Selena's shoulder as she was recovering. A hard, swift knee to the stomach doubled the tan girl over. I grabbed Selena's curly mass of hair and wrenched her head up so the girl's brown eyes stared into my black ones.

"You wanna try that again, Kusta?" I snarled, anger bubbling inside me, threatening to overflow. Selena Kusta lashed out and her foot connected with my shin. A smile twisted onto my lips. "I guess we'll have to talk about this then, won't we?"

"Let me go and we'll have a chat," Kusta sneered.

I pushed my opponent backwards and waited impatiently for the girl's first attempt. It came slowly and clumsily and I stopped Selena's fist with my palm easily. Twisting my opponent's wrist sharply, I pulled backwards and let Kusta stumble to the ground once more. Dodging two more punches, my body took the offense and struck the tan cheek of my adversary with an iron fist. There was a crunch and a grunt as fist connected with foul mouth.

"Damn it. You got blood on my knuckles, Kusta. Be a little more careful where you put your mouth," I snapped at the girl cowering on the ground, clutching her lips. "Now," my fingers slipped a shiny blade out of my pocket as the gang began to creep around me, "let's all stop and think. I won, fair and square. So back off," I brandished the knife threateningly. "And when I see you assholes tomorrow, we'll be mates, eh?"

"You're not from damn Britain, Ryder. Drop the knife and we'll finish this our way," a tall, ugly one spat.

My eyes rolled. "How many times must I tell you? I'm from Scotland. And—oh! Is that Devontrey?!" I exclaimed and pointed behind them.

At the sound of the dark-skinned, sexy senior, the girls turned and I broke into a run, pushing against the ground desperately with my multi-colored shoes. As I covered more ground, the girls realized that Devontrey was nowhere to be seen and began to race after me, the girl with long hair due for a beating. My red hair was getting all in my eyes as I ran, and I fumbled to pocket the knife as I tore across the soccer field. While distracted, I didn't see the barrel-chest of the school principal rising up to meet me, and slammed into Dr. Kent's muscled frame.

"Whoa! Dr. Kent, sorry, man. I, uh, gotta be goin'," I sidestepped and began my escape once more. A strong hand grabbed the hood of my sweatshirt and pulled me back. "Erm, yeah?" I asked hesitantly, a bit disconcerted by his strength.

"What's all this, Ryder?" Dr. Kent gestured to the five furious girls, one of which was bleeding.

"Uh, they had a fight over Devontrey. He's in such high demand right now, ya know? It's like he's a new phone." My brain was seriously struggling for an excuse and a getaway.

"And that, on your knuckles and your lip? Ah, blood. And what's that shining in your pocket?" His fingers deftly plucked out the knife. "I see."

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"Unruly, disrespectful, unmanageable…the list of your daughter's attributes goes on and on, Mrs. Ryder. Sadly, the faculty and I cannot manage your daughter's misbehaving any longer. We can't have her here," Dr. Kent removed his glasses forlornly.

Alright, I admitted tiredly, I'm not charismatic in the best way. Outgoing in a disruptive way—maybe. Meeting people is my thing though…alright maybe that's not in the best way either. I never said I had a great attitude. My attitude happens to include some bad behavior…But this junkyard is pointless anyway.

That's positivity if I ever heard it.

"I'm so sorry about her, Dr. Kent. But do you think this is necessary?" my mother asked calmly, though I could plainly see she was furious. The principal had just said I was being expelled and mom was infuriated.

"It is most necessary. We do not want your daughter in our school. She is an embarrassment to me and the county. She can clean out her locker now. Goodbye, Andromeda."

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"How many times have I said 'sorry' to you, mom?"

"Four times," Rachel Ryder snapped. "And you've got nine hundred ninety-nine thousand nine hundred ninety six left to go."

A sigh escaped my lips as I hefted more books and trash out of my locker and into the grocery bag mom had found in the back of the car. Years in the school system were being deposited into one plastic bag.

Currently, mom was blowing a gasket. Later, dad would blow five.

"Andy, haven't we talked about these?" Ms. Ryder snapped and tossed an empty box of cigarettes into the bag.

"That was from years ago, mom! I quit, I swear!" I insisted and shut the ruby red locker for the last time.

Mother and daughter were halfway out the school door when a deep voice shouted. "Mrs. Ryder! Wait a moment."

My mother stopped and turned. She walked swiftly but cautiously back to my former supervisor. "Yes, Mr. Kent?" she asked icily.

Dr. Kent muttered a few words and my mother's head jerked into a nod. He put a hand on her shoulder and said something else, something harsh by the way his lips moved. My mother walked back to me and, with a steely glare, pulled me out of the school.

"Your father will be elated. You're going to military school," she grinded through her teeth.

I stopped dead in my tracks and watched my short mother walk. After a few seconds of utter shock, I ran after her shouting, "Wait! What?!"

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"I'm sorry, dad! They were gonna—"

"You know better than to even talk to them, Andy. And a knife, Andromeda. You brought one to school. You know better," my father roared, his cheeks as red as his beard.

"Dad, you keep saying that I know better, but I obviously don't. They confronted me. It was five to one, I had to defend myself!"

My fingers curled into my palms as my anger grew. His thick head could not comprehend the situation I had been in. It was an absolute disaster zone, our living room.

Dad sighed. He knew I was right but still thought I could've run away. But running was something I could not lower myself to, not in a fight.

"Just…go to your room, Andromeda," my mother commanded, rubbing her temples with an exasperated sigh.

Full of pent up anger, I stalked into my white room and slammed the door. I slid down the back of the door. Tears began to flow down my cheeks as my parents' voices began to grow in volume. The two adults of the house had never yelled at each other before. They always seemed like such great friends. A great fountain of red hot anger was being spilled onto the floor now. And it was my fault.

"She is NOT going there, Rachel!" my father yelled and I was surprised. He was always so gung-ho about me going into the army, but now he was rejecting military school. What was this?

"It's the only thing left, Brock! She has to have a life and this is the only one left!" That was the loudest I had ever heard my mom speak.

She was usually all calm and controlled, never allowing an emotion through her shell. It was with that cool composure and strained love that I was raised. The only things I inherited from my mother were her depression, her sadness, her terrifying calm and her intelligence. All that woman had ever done was hurt me. The depression that always seemed to curl around my heart pushed me toward the smoking. The sadness had torn at my body and the frightening calm had made anyone willing to love me run. Intelligence put A's on my report card but made me furious. I didn't want to be like her.

Dad and I were best friends. We worked out together and spent most weekends talking. I had his thick red hair and heavily muscled build. I'd inherited his height and love of exercise. His bravery and his happiness were inside me forever. Sadly, mom's attributes canceled out the happiness most times. But Dad was the only one I could relate to in this house.

The house shook and I figured my father had slammed a fist into the coffee table. There was silence for a long time.

Then, my father spoke. "I'll call him. But I doubt he'll be happy about it."

Sitting against my door, rubbing tears off my cheeks, I was at a loss. Were they really going to send me to military school? Would my parents do that to me? And who was he?

No one came to talk to me after that. So I stared out the window and into the night. A terrifying chill crawled up my spine, slow and cold.

Something was coming.

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The hour was twelve, the minute was five and the second was unknown. I was lying in my bed, staring at the ceiling forlornly. My stomach growled and I wished I'd been brave enough to step outside my room for a piece of toast. My parents had quieted down and a telephone call was made. If only I had a phone in my room, I could have overheard. The call had ended and my parents had gone to bed.

Throughout the night, I'd felt the urge to sneak out and do something fun to relax. Take a walk around town, sneak into a friend's house for a chat, or maybe simply lie under the stars for a little while. But my body was nailed to the bed. I didn't have the will to lift myself out of bed.

After a heavy sigh and a discontented frown, I inched off the mattress so I was sitting on the floor. My gaze stretched past the glass of my window and into the night sky. The color was pitch and the stars twinkled white. An orb of pale light hung tiredly in the sky, above the conifers outside my home. As I stared, a bright red dot appeared in the distance. At first, I assumed it to be the light of an airplane coming in for descent. But it got closer and closer, building in speed and luster.

Slowly, I began to inch backward. Then my inch became an all out scramble as I stumbled to my feet and fumbled with the doorknob. The roar of fire crashed through my window and glass crashed into my room. Pieces of sharp window sliced into my back, my shoulders, and my chest and I fell to the floor, writhing in hot pain. The shards of glass were swirling around my room like sharp throwing knives. Some fell out of formation and dug into my back, sending me into spasms of hurt.

The torrent of wind that had shaken my room died down, sending a few more fragments of window into my skin. I was vaguely aware of three forms standing atop my carpet but was in too much pain to acknowledge them.

"Shit, Quinton, look whatcha did! We weren't supposed ta hurt her, idiot!" a high-pitched, male voice exclaimed.

A deep voice bounced back. "I didn't know, Jasper! How am I supposed to know where she's standing?"

"Ya just are, numskull, ya just are. Now pick 'er up. We gotta get goin."

"Wait!" a third voice chimed in. "Let me help her."

The others grumblingly agreed and the slighter, younger man stepped nimbly toward my body. He crept down close to my face. "Hello," his blond hair waved, "I'm Ryan. I'm here to help you."

My lips were dry like my throat and I could do nothing more than to nod slightly. His hands reached to my back and pulled a shard of glass out in one swift motion. Pain ripped through my back and my body curled slightly. Ryan's fingertips pressed against my back and the pain slowly decreased. A sigh broke through my chapped lips as my body relaxed slightly.

"Good Lord, Ryan, get it over with. Ach, forget it. Quinton, just get the girl and let's go."

The other man muttered a few words before stepping over to me in big, lumbering steps. He pushed Ryan out of the way and leaned down. His hands were inches from my arms when another blast shook the house. Quinton's large frame crashed into my wall and Jasper's feet ran toward his comrade.

"Get lost," a male voice instructed solemnly.

"Holy shit, Quinton. It's Scar," Ryan squeaked.

Quinton spat, "He's just a boy in tights, Ryan. I'll take care o' this."

The man named Quinton charged across the floor and slammed into the wall. "Damn it," the large man spat.

Slowly, I pushed my body off the floor to see a dark form clasping the back of Quinton's neck. He was around my height, maybe taller and his hair faded into the night. "Yes, Quinton. Damn it." As the last syllable disappeared, a terrific blue shock sizzled throughout the towering man's body.

Quinton crumpled to the ground and Jasper and Ryan dove for the window. The dark person in my room let them go but his hands were clenched tightly. After kicking Quinton, he stepped over to me. I had dropped back to the ground, too tired to sustain that position. A leather-clad hand reached down and grabbed my hand.

The stranger pulled my body right up off the floor without me having to move. "Come on," his voice was hoarse. "We're gonna get you out of here." He took my arm and slung it around his shoulder and began to drag my limp body across the floor.

Pain was dulling my senses and fogging my vision as Scar pulled me out of my bedroom. Mom and Dad were standing outside the door, looks of utter terror on their faces.

"Folks, there's nothing to worry abo—Raven?!" the boy exclaimed and nearly dropped me.

My mom had flipped the light on and my hero looked shocked. Mom stepped back into my father's arms. "Are you?" her voice was hushed and breathless.

"Your daughter is dying. We need to get her to the…"

Their words were lost to me. My hands were starting to feel fuzzy and lifeless, I couldn't move them. A dark shadow was creeping into my vision and supporting my body was becoming more and more of a strain.

I heard and experienced one last thing before passing out.

Someone—my mother—wrapped their arms around my bleeding, glass speared body. My mother's purple eyes stared into mine and she whispered, "It's going to be okay, Andy."

A shivering shadow encased my mother's limbs and all that I could see. Darkness overtook me and the ground disappeared from beneath me.


okay, hope you liked. It's definitely different than any other 'Raven's daughter story' but I hope someone likes it! R&R

~writingtitanslove