c.. 3)~
"Word Up!"
WordGirl was off, and awkwardly having to carry her book-bag at the same time. There was no dry place to set it down before takeoff, so WordGirl decided it would be best just to take it with her. She could set it out of the way when she got to the cause of the trouble.
The cry sounded like it came from the edge of town being it was so faint. But as WordGirl approached the outskirts of the city, she was greeted by an even darker sky and a fiercer wind and then, something unexpected happened. It started to hail.
"Ouch-ack!"
WordGirl took refuge under a small group of trees.
"It's summer time," WordGirl brushed the bits of ice from her costume. "Why is it hailing?"
She didn't have time to muse over this however, the person was still screaming for help, but how could she fly in this weather? Well she couldn't do it with this book-bag, that was for sure.
WordGirl placed her bag on the driest spot she could find. It was under the thick canopy of the trees so it shouldn't take too much damage. WordGirl could only hope she would remember where she had left it, mostly for the papers that were in it.
WordGirl took the edges of her cape and covered her head. Regardless of the weather she could not leave that person alone when they needed help. She took to the skies once more, but at a much slower pace. Her cape blocked most of the hailstones from hitting her head, but those penny-sized spheres were really starting to hurt her back.
The wind began to pick up, so much so that flying was becoming impossible; WordGirl was just being pushed back.
It was at this point that the hail increased in size. The lumps were now about the size of golf balls.
Without any other option, WordGirl landed and again took shelter. These trees were not as protective as the ones she left her bag under.
Why had the weather gotten so bad?
"I'd better call Huggy."
Back at the Botsford residence, Bob had just settled back down into his warm, safe bed for some light reading. He pulled his favorite book from under his pillow and positioned his reading glasses perfectly center on his face.
There was nothing like reading to make one feel better on a rainy day.
WordGirl pressed the button on her communicator belt several times. She was hoping that even though Huggy wasn't in uniform, he may still hear the beeps from his belt. Unfortunately
WordGirl's plea fell on deaf ears. Huggyface had tucked his super suit under the bed since he wouldn't be using it for the next couple of days.
WordGirl sighed as she gave up. Huggy probably didn't know the weather report anyway.
The wind gave out a howl as the hail began to lighten.
"Now's my chance." WordGirl focused her attention to the rallying cry and took to the skies. The atmosphere had become peculiarly darker. It was only three in the afternoon and yet it could be mistaken for about seven in the evening.
Squinting, WordGirl peered into the distance. There was an old farm house which appeared to still be in use, but it was what lay beyond the house that caught WordGirl's attention.
Tornado
With all her might WordGirl pressed forward to the home landing close to the cellar in time to see a family of five struggling to get in. The father was fighting a losing battle to shut the door.
WordGirl gazed up once more at the twister heading for the house and this family's livelihood.
"Is everyone okay?!" WordGirl found herself screaming at the top of her lungs and barely being heard. She repeated herself and received a negative head shake from the father.
"My youngest son," The wind blocked out some of the message, but WordGirl could understand enough that the boy was last seen by the horse stables. WordGirl nodded as a promise to find him and then she assisted in shutting the door.
Flying was no longer an option as the winds had gotten strong. WordGirl was going to run out of time if she didn't hurry.
Holding onto farm equipment and firmly rooted plants, the tattered superhero made her way to the stable. The door just flung open at the slightest touch and, to WordGirl's amazement, about a dozen horses sprang out of the stables running off into the country side.
The wood creaked and bent to the harsh winds pounding upon it. WordGirl reluctantly stepped inside half expecting the building to crumble around her.
"Hello," She didn't have to strain so much to speak here. "Is anyone in here?"
"I . . . I am." The voice sounded petrified.
WordGirl followed the sound quickly to one of the stalls. It was apparent now that the boy must have been the one to release the horses from their enclosures. He looked to be about twelve years old and he was very shaken up.
"We need to get you back to the cellar and fast."
He was seated on the floor of the stall with his knees drawn close to him. He'd never seen such weather before nor had he ever been expected to do such a job before; free the horses and then save yourself. He had been so nervous while trying to open stalls that it took him too long.
"I can't go out there."
"You have to."
"I'll be blown away."
The boy had a point. The tornado was too close now for him to go outside.
The stable began to lean a bit.
How could she get this boy to safety? She was as strong as steel and was still getting hurt out there, there was no way she could move him through that wind. . . Somehow, she had to stop the tornado.
WordGirl left the stable shielding her eyes so that dust wouldn't be blown into them. She looked at the monster wind not knowing the full extent of its power; it was a category three.
Tornados were just spinning columns of air right?
She could kick herself for not listening during science today; it might have come in handy.
What could stop wind . . ? Think, think. If the wind hit something large maybe, but there was nothing large enough to stop a tornado. What about more wind? Maybe WordGirl could blow it away. . . But not on her own, maybe with a fan!
WordGirl looked around. There was a tin roof that was being ripped off one of the chicken coops. She tore the metal off and, with great difficulty under the circumstances, folded the thing into a large Chinese style fan.
Getting into the air proved more difficult than folding the fan.
The pint-sized heroine positioned herself as close as she could to the twister without being sucked out of the sky. She began fanning.
Up, down, side to side, nothing seemed to phase the devastating storm; there was no way she could combat it.
WordGirl let go of the tin allowing it to be ripped away by the wind. She watched it swirl around the dark vortex before it disappeared into the cloud of dust. Who was she kidding; she wasn't strong enough to blow a tornado away.
The tornado was now at the gate of the farm, it would be bearing down on the stable and the boy inside it in no time at all.
Well if WordGirl wasn't strong enough, maybe she was fast enough. If she could fly clockwise around the twister, perhaps she could stop it.
Perhaps? No she had to stop it.
There was a lot of stuff being kicked up by that tornado, if she intended to get close to that massive dust-devil she would have to brace herself for a lot of hurt.
Time to roll up her sleeves, so to speak and do what needed to be done.
The closer she got to the storm the stronger its grip on her became and the sound was unbearable. WordGirl was thankful her super hearing only kicked in when she wanted it to. Every object in the air, even specks of dirt, acted as missiles against the girl.
WordGirl tried to pick up speed, but the pain was very acute.
With visibility almost nil, WordGirl was completely taken aback when she was hit by a rather large object. Whatever it was threw the super hero off her flight path and into the mercy of the wind.
She was tossed about like fruit in a blender. Only this wasn't going to end with a nutritious snake but rather the death of a civilian.
Just then something snagged onto WordGirl's cape. Her body was pulled into a completely different direction as the contents of her cape rushed out and into her face.
Slice.
The pocket mirror had shattered and cut across her cheek; clean.
In some ways this storm seemed to embody her day. Too many things were going on all at once and she was getting tired of it, literally considering she hadn't gotten much sleep in the last few nights. With all this serving as her motivation, anger seemed to provide some hidden strength WordGirl was not aware of before. No one was going to die on her watch.
WordGirl stopped herself in mid air and held steady, several objects knocking into her but never moved her from the stationary position. Then suddenly with a loud boom, WordGirl was off.
She had never moved fast enough to cause a sonic boom before, but as she finished eight full rotations around the twister she felt she might never use this speed again.
Round and round she flew, fists out front to penetrate any object that got in her way. In no time at all the tornado began to weaken.
Without a minute to spear, or rather a yard, the twister dissipated dropping its contents and leaving the farm untouched; messy but untouched. All that was left were the dark clouds that would linger for several hours more.
The family upon hearing the violent wind stop exited the cellar to survey the damage and pray their son wasn't a part of it. To their utter amazement the farm house was still standing, everything was still standing.
The boy also came out of the stable and was warmly received by his family. It was a grand reunion and a joyful moment to see the house and farm still intact, but the family was not too overjoyed to notice their hero's spiral into the corn field. They quickly made their way out to her uncertain how hurt she maybe.
WordGirl's head was spinning. It seemed like such a good idea at the time to fly around that storm, but now she was so dizzy it was a wonder she hadn't fainted. Everything in the field was spinning; such a sickening sight.
WordGirl was laid out on her back when the family arrived. She had closed her eyes in hopes of regaining her equilibrium.
"WordGirl," the father knelt down. "You alright? Do we need to call a doctor?"
The mother joined her husband for a closer examination.
"She's all cut to pieces," a slight exaggeration. "We should take her to the house."
The family gathered around her, but WordGirl quickly protested.
"No, I'm fine." WordGirl was not too fond of doctors' visits; one blood test could revile her less than human disposition. "I just need a minute to rest."
The mother tired to help WordGirl sit up, but the girl's wooziness kept her down.
"Jeremy," the mother spoke to her middle son. "Go get her a glass of water."
The boy took off for the house.
"And grab a blanket too!"
After about five minutes WordGirl could sit up and was able to explain to the group how she had managed to stop the storm.
"Thank ya so much, WordGirl." The father extended his hand to help her up. "Without your help . . ."
"Oh it was nothing."
As WordGirl took hold of the man's hand she felt a sharp pain surge through her arm.
"Ow!"
"What's wrong?!"
The family huddled in again as the girl withdrew her right hand.
"I think I might have fractured something."
"Fractured means ya broke it right?"
"Yes, I think it's broke."
The mother bent over and helped the heroine to her feet before looking the arm over.
"Ya didn't break it dear; if ya did, you's wouldn't be able to move it, plus it would hurt a whole lot more."
"I must have sprained it then." Oh the irony.
"Are ya certain ya don't want us to call a doctor for ya?"
"I'm sure."
It was then WordGirl gave herself a good look over. She did look terrible. Her cape was missing and her costume had several large gashes in it with the left pant leg partially torn off. That leg also had a few cuts which remained WordGirl of the decent size cut she had received on her face. And though she couldn't see the cut, the stares the oldest daughter was giving it confirmed its severity. There were numerous bruises she could feel throbbing in varies places and to make matters worse;
Exhaustion.
But despite all this, Becky still needed to deal with her lie. WordGirl's eyes were still too blurred to read her watch so she turned to the family again.
"Do you know what time it is?"
"Why it's three forty-eight."
WHAT! That only left thirteen minutes before her mom would get home.
"I'm glad I could be of assistance good luck with, everything else." WordGirl took off, in a very crooked flight pattern.
What was she going to do? She had spent the whole hour battling the elements. She didn't have enough time to conjure up a new plan for staying home. If only Mrs. Heaslip would let her stay.
She needed to get home and . . . Huggy might have an idea. She could ask Huggy.
It would have been nice if he hadn't gotten his ankle sprained, then he could have been helping her out all day. Stupid Tobey and his robots . . . and machines.
This was going to be one of the worst ideas she would ever think up, but with the situation teetering on the edge of disaster, who was going to keep record anyway, and if she were willing to drag her friends into her scheming, why not her enemies as well.
(A/N) I hope everyone reading this on the date it was posted has a Good Friday and a Happy Easter. Just another reminder that this story was written for season 1 and may not perfectly line up with info from season 2, though I'll try.
