Ten minutes.
I tapped my pencil on the desk top in time with the clock above the door. Tap tap tap. I couldn't pay attention to anything except the minute hand that was ticking away the last of the school week, the last of Friday. Not Mr. Bannister prattling on about the mythology unit next week or my best friend lobbing wadded bits of paper could tear my eyes off the savior of this dreadful week. Though I suppose it wasn't totally wonk.
Eight minutes.
After my display in the cafeteria, it had been the talk of the school. Howard's sister, Heidi, already had her report up on the school feed not even 24 hours later. Somehow she had also managed snap a grainy photo. Students and teachers alike were whispering about an angel or ninja who was watching over the school. Yet others insisted he was the cause of the rampaging student. I was being completely level-headed about the whole business… who am I kidding. THIS IS THE BRUCEST THING TO EVER HAPPEN TO ME.
Six minutes.
Let's face it. I've never been popular, but throughout elementary and middle school I've always had Howard. That was good enough for me. Even though they didn't know they were talking about me, I knew and it's cool to be the cheese ya' know? For once in my life I was noticed positively and not as that 'shoob who totally wonked that thing up…' but enough of that. That was the one, small, good thing of the first week of school. When the Bucky-Lizard threw me into the cafeteria wall, I started… seeing things.
Five minutes.
I'm pretty sure I have a concussion. I looked up the symptoms on my McFist Pad and one of them was double/blurry vision. My eyes feeling fuzzy and seeing colors could fall into that category, right? There is no way I could tell my mom though. A doctor visit is not on the top of my to-do list. The only thing between my wings and discovery are Howard's humongous hoodies. My backpack trick just doesn't cut it at home.
Three minutes.
I'm going to his house after school. He said that we were long overdue for a Grave Puncher 3 rematch and I agree. It has been a whole week since we last played! A whole WEEK. I hate school. Only two hundred and some more days until summer.
One minute.
Thankfully, there was no repeat of Monday. Was the Sorcerer's interference a one-time deal? I know it's terrible of me to wish for him to attack again, but I miss the excitement. I also want another chance to use the ninja scarf; my room is on the small side for ninja-y activities. In fact-
RING RING RING.
The screaming and the mad scramble out the door begin. The weekend begins. HECK YEAH. I am proud to say that despite being in the back of the classroom, I was the first out the door.
"Don't forget to-!" Whatever the English teacher tried to cram into the class time was lost.
"Hey, Cunningham!" Howard had found me by my locker. Eh, there's nothing pressing to take home. I shut the metal door. "Are you ready to get your cheese kicked?!" He punched my arm with a greasy fist. Just where did he get that bag of chips from.
"Oh, it's on!" I yell.
I wish I could spend every day in Howard's basement room staring at the television screen punching graves mindlessly until drool is falling from my mouth. Wait, gross; forget that last part.
Howard is beating me. Maybe if I could just distract him for a second…
Those funny colors from earlier? They suddenly came back in full force. It's like when you've been staring at a light for too long and close your eyes. Except mine were still open and it physically hurt to concentrate on them. My hands drop the controller and flew to my eyes on reflex.
"YOU HAVE PUNCHED ALL THE GRAVES" a mechanical male voice announced.
"Ha! You see that Cunningham?" Howard's voice rose. "I won and now you owe me nachos from Charlie Cluckers…" He trailed off. Huh, I wonder if he noticed that I'm curled up on the floor in the fetal position. It feels like a million spiders are crawling up my arms and I still won't open my eyes.
He grabs my shoulders. "Are you okay? Tell me what's going on or so help me-"
I open my eyes. All the colors from before are in focus and it no longer hurts. For some strange reason, they form arrows and squiggles and other pictures that flit around too quickly to recognize. They glow too.
"Howard, do you see those?" I sit up and gesture around. He looks at me doubtfully.
"See what? Did the grave punching fry your brain?" I'm pretty sure this isn't a side effect from a videogame or else it would have happened a lot sooner.
"No, look! How can you miss the glowing symbols?" By then end of my sentence I was yelling.
"For the last time Cunningham," Howard grabbed the wrist of my hand that was pointing at the squiggly flying around his head. "There are no… What the juice bro! When did you get a tattoo and why didn't you tell me?"
"Whaaat?" I don't have tattoos. I've thought about it before, but there's no way Mom would ever let me get one.
He pushed the hoodie sleeve up past my elbow and there it was; the source of the spidery feeling. They looked like my imaginary floating designs, except they were on my arms. There were more shiny doodles, plus Japanese (Chinese?) characters, two small ninjas and stylized clouds. The battling ninjas faded to reveal the words 'To win dishonestly is to loose'. Whatever that means.
"Howard I swear I did not get tattoos." He eyed me suspiciously.
"Does this have to do with your ninja thing?"
"I- no? Maybe?" Probably. The tattoos swirled away from his prodding finger. I wonder if the images will ever go away and if girls would find them hot. While lost in my thoughts, my best bud had locked the door. "Howard, what are you doing?"
"You promised me some bruce ninja moves and so I expect to see some." I had said that, therefore I whipped the scarf out of my pocket (my McSkinnies have surprisingly large ones) and wrapped it around the lower half of my face. Black gloves and long sleeves hid any trace of the new tattoos, but I could still feel them.
Despite having seen my wings before, Howard's eyes widened if only a little. The next hour consisted of me pulling out my various weapons. We found two different types of swords, a chain sickle, and throwing discs, but I couldn't find the balls the other ninja had used. It was a strange concept, to reach behind me and pull items I didn't know existed out of nowhere. The smokebombs were up the suit's sleeves and were too smelly to test out in the confined space. With each weapon I pulled out, Howard found something he could throw at me to see if I could cut it in half.
It was fun up until our activities got too loud and Heidi knocked on the door.
"Howard? Andy? What are you guys up to in there? Can you keep it down, it's past eleven and some people have to get up tomorrow!" Actually, it was still fun, if not more, to have annoyed her. I do wish she'd get my name right though.
"Fiiiiine," Howard whined. When her footsteps were gone, we both proceeded to laugh uncontrollably. It wasn't that funny, but after eleven everything becomes more laughable. Believing enough damage had been done for one night, I untangled the presumably ancient scarf from my neck. I seriously hate research and all that jazz, but maybe the ninja suit is worth looking into.
"I want to try it Cunningham!" He was already reaching for the balled up fabric.
"Sorry Howard," I used my height on my shorter friend advantageously, lifting it in the air as he jumped for it, "That's a no can do."
"Oh come on, I swear I'll give it back." I can't explain it; I just got a bad feeling from the thought. Ignoring me, Howard began to chase me around the room. It was hilarious how badly he was failing, but then I tripped. The fall to the floor was a short one and my pursuer snatched the scarf in victory.
"Sucker." He said, striking an action pose. Nothing happened. Howard tried wearing it a couple of different way and still no reaction.
"What the juice!? Is it broken or something?"
"It doesn't like you," I deadpan, snatching it back and tossing it at the bag of stuff I brought.
"Whatever," he retuned, huffing.
I lightly punched his shoulder. "Rematch on Grave Puncher?"
Funny thing is, it wasn't until next morning that I realized my wings had also been turned into tattoos. They spread across the tops of my shoulders down to my elbows. Also a red, tilted G-shape had appeared over my heart. Those two were my only permanent ones, but it's still a little ridiculous. Ninja powers are cool and all, but I feel like a walking five year-old's drawing pad. Thank cheese for the cooler weather that allowed me to wear hoodies and long sleeves all the time.
Oh, in case you're wondering, I beat Howard at the second round of Grave Puncher.
We spent the rest of the weekend together too. Just like usual we switched between houses, went to the Game Hole, and generally walked around Norrisville. I kept my eye out for anymore stank'd people, though I saw none. Although I still like my made up verb, I need a word referring to the people. 'Monster' would technically work, but it seems a little offensive. I learned the term 'Chimera' in science once; it'll do.
Monday eventually came again, as it always does. Somehow, it was actually worse despite that I could lose the awkward backpack. My troubles could be summed up with a single name: Bash Johnson. He's the step-son of the richest man in town, Hannibal McFist, and he's also a bully. In the first week of school he had already picked on all the band geeks. In fact, I think he was responsible for Bucky's lizard status last week. He looked like the typical bully/jock combo: big, surrounded by followers and often sneering.
Normally, I am able to avoid him and he almost never looks specifically for me. Almost never. Today Coach Green had thrown together a particularly dangerous game of three-legged dodgeball. Able to choose our own teammate, I, of course, paired up with Howard. We work well together, unlike Bash and his ally Mick. Bash doesn't co-operate with anyone well.
For once in our lives, we dominated the game! In spite of our height difference, we got so many people out; including Bash. Having never lost at anything sports related Bash was hella mad and out to get us after class. That shoob Howard managed to disappear; then there's me, with my head hovering above the porcelain schnastiness that is a toilet.
"YOU SHOULD FEEL HONORED THAT BASH JOHNSON WHO IS ME IS GIVING YOU A SWIRLY!" Bash also likes to yell a lot. At that point I had a choice to make: sacrifice my stylin purple dyed hair or do something. Before last week I would have just given in. Now… I could easily have my wings materialize and knock him off balance, then slip away. Bash might even think he was attacked by a bird; keeping my secret safe.
But that's too reckless, right? Screw it. I briefly saw a tattoo flash on my wrist before I knocked the bully into the stall divider. His cry of surprise was totally worth it. Getting out of the bathroom as quickly as possible, I ran down the hall to lunch.
"CUNNINGHAM!"
I was feeling pretty good about myself and as if in response, the telltale green smoke was curling down the corridor. Maybe this is just a Monday thing?
a/n: Im so happy from all the feedback on this! It's been a year so maybe you've noticed a change in my writing style? I hope this isn't too OOC…. How does one write immature teenage boys? Also, I swear more plot stuff is coming; I just had to set a few things up. edit: thank you TheFanGirl11!
example of tattoo i described: bit. ly/1zqQOnn